Revisiting Those Cobblestone Streets of My Beloved, Self-Created Former Life: What it was Like and What it all Means.

I begin this entry lovingly with this: if you have not read Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love, please immediately get yourself to a library, bookstore, second-hand bookstore, Amazon, or a friend-who-has-it and do. It will speak to you if you are the gourmande (ahem, I live to eat, so yes, I fall in this category, as further evidenced by how much of my long-weekend was spent doing just that). Or if you've ever suffered any sort of heartache (I was once a pre-teen, teen and sophomore -literally, a "wise fool" -and continue to be human, so of course, count me in this category too). Or if you've ever even so much as attempted a philosophical, spiritual or existential self-search (if I'm writing this blog... well, enough said). And finally, if you have just been craving a darn good read, you will fall in love with the author / protagonist, her writing and her story, with every part of your being. Now, I do have to admit that I had to stiffle my giggles in the bookstore when I came across a memoirs that clearly sought to mock Gilbert's fabulous work, this mockery entitled, "Drink, Play, F@#!", but nonetheless, as the infamous athletic-wear brand would say, "Just Do It".

"Getting There"

As the anatomy mnemonic for the 12 cranial nerves goes "Oh, once one takes the anatomy final, very good vacations are had!" And so they were. I began my precious week off with a drive down to Plattsburgh, NY with my Mum (which was a lovely mother-daughter time) last Thursday, from where I boarded a nine-passenger aircraft to Boston. If you want some idea of how tiny the airport was, know that the free parking lot is infinitely larger than the actual airport, that one need only arrive at check-in 15 minutes prior to departure, and should you arrive any earlier than that, you may find yourself seemingly the only person in the whole airport until you ring the little bell and the one check-in-lady/luggage-porter/seating hostess emerges from behind some back-room. If you want some idea of how tiny this plane was, think of it this way: they asked me how much I weighed when I checked in, everyone one the plane had a window and an aisle seat, the lightest people had to sit in the back, it was like piling into a van where once you're sitting, that's it, there's no "moving around". However, the ride was absolutely stunning. At first, I was just stunned with the bumpiness of the ride (almost like the flight to Flagstaff, AZ). But then, suddenly, only sheer beauty all around.

We were weaving our way through the sky on an invisible current, just beneath a canopy of grey and pearl cotton. The steel Adirondacks held their own below, still dusted with snow, and the plateaus of New York and Vermont stretched out brown and hungry for life after a harsh winter. Water canyons snaked their way, cutting through the land, leaving behind silver mirror shards for lakes. A warm spring sun scattered it's light between the cracks of canopy, over my arm and face, and blessed the Earth below. 'Made you wonder 2 things: firstly, whether Heaven truly lies above in the skies or in the Earthly beauty on which you looked down, and secondly, why anyone would ever pay hundreds of dollars for those silly helicopter tours that last all of 5 seconds, when they could get the same spectacular view for a mere $108 US (return!), for a whole 75 minutes, while actually traveling to a real destination.

"Awkward to Be Back" and "Moving on More Than You Thought You Had"

I arrived to a warm, sunny, familiar Boston, and surely had a ridiculous, stupid smile plastered on my face the whole Silver-Red Line journey "home" to Harvard Square. It was so good to be back! First things first. Paid my visit to the dear old Kirkland House security guard that we all know and love -cynical and endearing as ever. Saw various K-House people walking about between the JCR and D-hall, lounging around the courtyard... it was exactly as I remembered leaving it. Except now, I was a ghost... everything was the same, but the graduate no longer belongs there. Not because anyone is unfriendly -in fact, people are quite friendly and welcoming (well some are, others are their usual arrogant, awkward selves -and let me tell you, if you managed to desensitize yourself to it during your four years of undergrad, even to the point where you were denying the "awkward turtle" as myth, it is painfully in your face upon revisitation... so I must say that in true Harvard spirit, it was awkward to be back. Which was fitting and quaint in many ways) -it's just that you realize that you have changed, you have grown (yes, even in that one measly year since graduation), you've moved on more than you thought you had (a perfect example of this to follow shortly), and thus, you no longer belong there. Because you belong exactly right where you are in life now -that is fully your rightful place, and what you really, truly miss is not something you can "go back and visit". This closure was very important for me and the timing was quite perfect. I think I'd even venture to say that the visit as a whole, was perfectly self-revealing, perfectly exhilirating, and perfectly FUN (oh sooooo much fun!)!!!

Most of all I enjoyed the company of my ol' peoples, my ol' haunts, and even some new discoveries. Right here, I would like to again thank the three generous friends who lent me their spare beds, their roommates' beds and their couches for the five nights I spent in Cambridge -nothing like sleep-over style chatties, bonding and... sleeping. Remember, mi casa es tu casa tambien. Anyhow, back to food and friends.

On that first evening, I spent five hours catching up with my Quincy-blockmate, exchanging stories, advice, gossip, mozzarella sticks and french fries (at The Pub), and tastes of different mochi ice cream flavours at Boston Tea Stop. Of course, I had been craving the best bubble tea in the world for eons by now, and thusly purchased a rose-flower-black-milk-tea-with-boba, despite the fact that it was after 4:00 pm and I thus risked a sleepless night due to that crazy Asian black tea (which did in unfortunate fact prove to be a poor choice as I found myself tossing and turning restlessly until about 5:00 a.m.). Now after taking that first, what should have been "divine" sip, you know what I found myself thinking? Brace yourself for this blasphemy: "Naila, it's great, but really, what's the big deal?" What's the big deal? Seriously? Clearly I had moved on more than I thought, right!

"YUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMM!!!!" said the Glutton

Oh, but I ate delicious food and had a wonderful time back in my former home -really, a full-out Harvard / Cambridge / Boston / me experience. From the tasty smoked turkey, Swiss, tomato and lettuce "Fayerweather" sandwich on garlic and rosemary bread at Darwin's to the light grilled chicken, buffalo mozzarella and red pepper thin-crust pizza at Cambridge One -oh, I did indulge! Rich, dark hot chocolate at Burdick's. Sweet, creamy chocolate chip cannoli at Mike's. Succulant lamb and cinnamon-brown rice Qablee pillaw, and Afghan Kadoo (sugary pumpkin, with yogurt, meat sauce and various chutnees) at Helmand. My favourite Greenhouse Cafe chicken wings (little known gem of this Science Center "restaurant"). Burnt sugar ice cream at Christina's. Steak quesadilla with rice, guacamole, "fresh" salsa and jalapeno hot sauce at Anna's Taqueria (near MIT), where I also tried their almond-milky Mexican drink, which tastes like Turkish rice pudding in a cup. Sesame fried shrimp rice rolls, and yummy butter chicken at Super 88 across from khane.

And that's not including the new places I tried! I went to Henrietta's Table (in the Charles Hotel) for the first time, for brunch with one of my almost-little-sister who suggested that fabulous book that I just finished pushing on you (above). Yummy, surprisingly reasonably-priced breakfast food indeed! Also fabulous freshly-squeezed orange-carrot juice. Really, this little sis has impeccable taste and I am so very proud of the beautiful, confident, strong woman she has become!

And then another morning, I went to Zoe's for breakfast (also a first). Omelet with smoked salmon, asperagus and cream cheese equals almost to die for, really. I thought I would get too full to finish. This turned out to be false. I laughed the hardest with the friends I was visiting over this meal, as we discussed how crazy it is, not just that so many people we know are getting married (I actually found out 3 more of my friends got engaged while I was in Boston -in fact, I was having dinner with 2 of these friends when word and photos were received via crackberry regarding the third "fresh" engagement -madness indeed, but congrats all around of course!), but how ridiculous some of the websites that some engaged couples make for themselves are. We thought it would be particularly hilarious if the three of us girls made a "spoof" website with a play-by-play of the divorce (a la "this was the first straw" -with a photo of a faux-slap -and "this was the last straw" captions) of a polygamous lesbian marriage. Moreover, we thought it would be additionally funny to have a "hoodlink" to the site (a la Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up"), so that people actually think they're clicking on a link called "somethingconservative.com". Oh what a partay that was... =)

But back to food and drink. Believe it or not, but I had never been to Tealuxe before, so also tried that -what a quaint place with lovely blueberry white tea indeed (and with yet another sweet friend)! And catching up with friends -we talked about it all. Sex, boyfriends (or lack thereof), jobs (or lack thereof), med school (or lack thereof... i.e. waits and apps), philosophies on healthcare, medicine, history of medicine (again, or lack thereof... at least in our professional school programs, which is a tragedy in our humble opinions), food, reminiscings, life outside Harvard, life inside Harvard, life after Harvard, life at the end of Harvard (i.e. Commencement speakers past and future), good books, interesting ideas, dumb economies, amazing and crap and convoluted politics (is that just redundant?), good TV (i.e. the Food channel), good movies, great travel... I also visited briefly with a few of my professors which was wonderful.

So basically, I was a glutton over Easter -a glutton for conversation, food and general pleasure (including some shopping in bookstores, Downtown Crossing, Little Italy, and various "Squares" -Harvard, Central, Inman, etc -roaming around Boston and Cambridge, watching the magical and excellent-in-every-way foreign film "Faubourg 36" or "Paris 36" in Kendall Theatre on the one very rainy day, enjoying the company of a very attractive male, Harvard grad total stranger at 'Noch's over a mutual penchant for the spinach Sicilian pizza, hearing stories about the Aga Khan's visits to Afghanistan "When the King is Good, the Rain will Come" and how even in that arid, mountainous place, everytime he goes to visit, there is rain, even in the unlikliest of seasons...)

Luckily, I am not a Catholic, though, so I will not perish in purgatory (or is it perish in Hell and something else in purgatory?) for my indulgence. However, I did go to St. Paul's Catholic Church in Harvard Square on Good Friday (first time going to mass in Mass.) -I sure as heck chose quite a day to go! To call it "heavy" would be putting it lightly, although it was still an interesting and enjoyable experience... I've never heard "The Passion" read (or should I say "sung") like that before, so that was cool. Anyway. I can appreciate the beauties of other religions and forget the intolerances and ugly politics. Every religion's got 'em. But I firmly maintain there must be at least an infinity of paths to spiritual peace, enlightenment, God, the Universe... whatever it is you believe in. And if Science is your only God, then so be it. Just "live and let live" as the old cliche goes.

"The Revelation" (no prophets involved)

I leave you now with the following revelation that I had during my break:

If God came down and said that I could only be one thing in life, I would choose being a writer over being a doctor. But. I am blessed because in real life, I don't have to choose -I can have many passions and many things that bring me (and thus those around me) happiness. And working as a physician is still 1000% my calling. Just if my physical body were burned to ash, the essence left behind is a writer first. So in my life, I will write, and fall in love, and travel, and go to the ballet, and enjoy delicious food, and have a wonderful family, and pray, and read for pleasure, take hikes in Nature, maybe one day swim across a very large body of water, and also be a doctor and serve others the best that I can. If I could not do all of these things, I would not be whole and my life would not have meaning for me. It is my hope, prayer and intention that all these may manifest for myself and for anyone else who may desire these as well. And I thank all the forces that be in advance for doing their best by my dreams.

p.s. okay nerds, for anyone who was dying to know what those 12 cranial nerves from the mnemonic are: Optic, Olfactory, Occulomotor, Trochlear, Trigeminal, Abducens, Facial, Vestibulococchlear, Glossopharyngeal, Vagus, Accessory, Hypoglossal. see? you didn't really want to know did you.