I spent the last week in Brookline with the colorful residents of 154 Thorndike- Aviv, Masha, Allison, Tori, Justin, Urs, and Eleanor & Michelle (not pictured). Somewhere between the vegetarian family dinners, David Bowie dances, foreign phrase-book pickup lines, and Jäger bombs we fell in love.
The weeks events included Boston’s Critical Mass bike ride; Exploring the tastes of Japan with Anthony Bourdain (who, while not busy being Messianically idolized by those of 154 Thorndike, is a chef, adventurer, smoker, crime novelist, bad-ass and smart-ass) ; Conversing with Allison’s “special” T-train friends; and Learning Urs’ less-than-orthodox, Swiss method of making mashed potatoes.
It is weeks like these that leave one smiling, basking in the romance of being young.
Earlier in the week Eleanor and I had a conversation- sharing our experiences living abroad… She gave a half-laugh at our respective travels, at how they were not quite as romantic as the smoky jazz clubs where American expatriates secretly and unconsciously pieced together a revolution of arts and literature; or as sententious as the “finding oneself” stories of the 1960’s-
But thinking back on the past week with a smirk, Eleanor and I may have been looking for these romances and meanings with astigmatic vision. Trading the French accent for the less-sexy New England elocution and the Cafe Delmas on rue Mouffetard for Herrell’s on Brighton Avenue- one can see that “expat” and “student” are just words… that the romance and meaning are directly in front of us.
If only we could just watch ourselves just being ourselves in this strange movie.
While taking off I remembered how to laugh and never forgot it again.