Journey to enlightenment.

The advert on the ‘T’ says “follow the path to enlightenment” with a picture of three gowned and mortar-boarded people smiling and walking together already on their journey to enlightenment.  My own journey to Harvard and enlightenment leaves every weekday, Monday to Friday, from the Joy Street apartment.  Today the sun is shining, and I head into the light, bright crisp air, towards the light of knowledge.  I head downhill out of historic Beacon Hill, with its steep brick paved and gas lamp lined streets, to Cambridge Street, a far more modern, fairly typical American street, with restaurants, laundry, and liquor stores.  I  turn left along Cambridge Street past Ladder 24 Fire Station, past the flower shop, and the people all rushing to work at this time in the morning.  Many cars travel slowly into town and work; a helicopter is taking off from the roof of Massachusetts General Hospital, having brought an emergency patient for treatment, and the occasional ambulance rushes, siren howling, to or from the hospital, on an urgent mission.  I cross the road, and into the glass covered station entrance, attached to the side of an old brick and steel viaduct, which carries the train across the Charles River on the Longfellow Bridge.  The Chief Inspector is standing there, looking stern and official, arms crossed and legs apart, dominating his entrance to his Massachusetts Bay Transport Authority (MBTA) domain.   Only last week he helped me and Anji get our “Chaawr-lee” card (Charlie card) - the sternness is a veneer, he is there to help - a man with knowledge and wisdom to those willing to learn; a professor and a mentor with a willingness to share his knowledge to aid others’ journeys.  Thanks to him I have the card that gives me access, and touch it to the pad, and the electronic gate opens and lets me through like a regular Boston commuter.  Past another flower-seller, and up the escalator.  A busker is playing classical music on a flute, he’s a regular, and some of the travelers shout a  hello to him, but give no money.   The official authoritative voice on the tannoy says “Attention passengers, the next red line train to Alewife is approaching”, and as promised it arrives, climbing out of the tunnel onto the viaduct, and into the station.  The doors close, and the train, with its promise of enlightenment, crosses the Charles River, and then drops back into the underground tunnel, stopping at Kendall / MIT, and Central before reaching Harvard Square. 

Off the train, I climb out of the darkness through the barriers and up the slope, past the underground bus station, where the buses collect passengers on the 77 to Arlington Heights and the 75 to Belmont Centre, via 700 Huron Avenue - each bus using overhead electric power assistance whilst underground.  I go up the steps, and cross the road and into Peets Coffee shop for my morning Cappuccino.  The cafe is Californian, with the relaxed coffee house atmosphere and smells, students and professors sit around, some reading, others on laptop computers, yet more chatting.  The barista is quick and efficient, calling my name and handing me a coffee: I leave and head down past the inevitable Irish pub and enter the Hauser Center, to figure out how the hell I get to this enlightened educated place that Harvard is - now that I am here - no one to help me, I am on my own, with all of Harvard’s resources at my feet - I just have to to find my own way....