New England: the most wonderful place I have ever lived. With its rich history, changing seasons, and endless caches of toll roads and strip malls, it really is the only place I could see myself living upon graduating Harvard. How could a born-again northerner like me ever return to the dregs of SoCal?
Personally, the largest selling factor is New England’s unprecedented history. It’s as old as shit. In my free time, I often take part in tours of old buildings! There really is nowhere I feel safer than the decaying outdoor wooden staircases built by 13-year-old alcoholic Irish kids in the 1850s. But the colonial architecture goes beyond quaint, charming looks. The insulation in my bare brick wall works rigorously to keep room temperatures an impressive 1 degree warmer than the ongoing blizzard outside.
Not to mention, “seasons” exist here. Every morning I’m met with the thrill of uncertainty of whether I’ll need my winter coat. In Southern California, the only noticeable differences between summer and winter are the holiday decorations people smother all over their boats or the inflatable snowmen that my neighbors think will turn their front yards into a Hallmark postcard.
But in Boston, there’s nothing I love more than witnessing the slow death of the trees or the beautiful transition of white snow into a gray slush. On my first snow day during my freshman year, I could not believe how much fun it was to try to ride my bike or skateboard in the snow. It’s also way more convenient when you add a layer of ice onto Cambridge’s already uneven streets. Who wants to commute on a smooth surface?
Another one of my favorite things about the East Coast, and especially Harvard, is how much the students here value their education. Freshman year I was greeted by several students who were kind enough to introduce themselves by the high schools they went to. I had never heard of these epic institutions like “Exeter” and “Groton,” but it truly comforted me, knowing that I was surrounded by people who cared about learning just as much as I did. When it came time for me to flaunt my high school alma mater, my friends all (understandably so) immediately felt inferior to me. They had never heard of CDM High School. I mean who has? It’s so exclusive and small and only graduates the most promising leaders of tomorrow.
Everyone here must have ugly feet. As someone who grew up wearing exclusively Rainbow sandals, it was a massive shift to see people sporting close-toed shoes all the time. I unfortunately learned the hard way that Rainbows are not as versatile as I had previously thought, given that I’ve once had to run my feet under hot water for 15 minutes to return any feeling to my toes after wearing them on my snowy walk to morning practice.
But footwear is not the only thing people wear differently on the East Coast. Never in my entire life had I seen someone wear a long-sleeve button-down shirt to class than on my first day at Harvard when half of my classes looked like they were pulled out of a Vineyard Vines catalog. Rolling in with my possibly stained white t-shirt and beach shorts, I felt like I had entered some alternate universe.
As much as I might miss the authentic Mexican and seafood from Southern California, I must say I am impressed by New England and Harvard’s cuisine creativity. I hadn’t realized how versatile “lobster” was as a flavor, or why I would ever seek any other midnight snack than whole wheat Brain Break bagels and shredded lettuce and carrots.
The biggest difference between Southern California and New England is the culture. New England is a “work hard, play hard” environment that I had never experienced, coming from one of the most laid-back areas of the world. In Southern California, in the rare occurrence when we aren’t hanging out on someone’s boat or in someone’s garage, we would go to a local bar with cheap fake IDs to people-watch our high school classmates.
But Cambridge, and especially Boston, is so much better. The excitement of spending $30 on an Uber across the River to see if our fake IDs will grant us watered-down gin and tonics, and the myriad people I meet in the hour-long line for a margarita pitcher at Felipe’s, are second to nothing.
But being 3,000 miles from home truly shows you how much you value the best parts of your childhood and where you grew up. While my move to the East Coast was dramatic, it showed me that experiencing different cultures can shape you into a better person and make you appreciate your life back home even more.
Ryan McCarthy ’24 (ryanmccarthy@college.harvard.edu) can still be seen wearing Rainbow flip flops everywhere he goes.