SENA KAYASÜ (ARCH/III)
sena.kayasu@ug.bilkent.edu.tr
Happy new semester, everyone! New Year’s Day flashed by us in a frenzy of snow, project submissions and final exam preparations, but we can now celebrate this new term that has so far been drenched in…winter. I can hear some of you asking, “Why would we celebrate a new semester filled with the prospect of more work?” I hope there are at least a few people out there who like the work enough not to say this. Or, at least, some who are counting the terms they have left until graduation. Fear not, this is going to be an easy one.
Spring terms always go by so much more quickly than fall ones. I love fall, but it isn’t particularly pleasant for the weather to be worsening in direct proportion to the amount of work. Because it’s only the first half of the year, there’s also a pervasive lack of light at the end of the tunnel. Moreover, in the past few years, the religious holidays have been coinciding with the fall semester, causing it to go by in stop-motion.
The spring term is the exact opposite. Week after week passes by with very little interruption, so that the Fridays melt into the weekends and the Saturdays are more and more often spent outside. Whatever happens, there’s the prospect of summer coming up. I always look forward to the spring term.
Of course, it’s also depressing how little pieces of you die studying while the rest of the world is coming to life. In a cruel way, everybody else’s suffering makes us feel better. I read a book over the break that was all about transforming our thinking so that, no, we don’t feel happy only when we have company in our misery, but also when others can thrive. I’m planning to elaborate on this “Happiness Project” in the coming weeks.
My newfound perspective on this issue, meanwhile, was created by my interesting vacation. For the first time ever, I spent winter break abroad. In fact, I think this was the first time I’d been away from Ankara in the dead of winter. Unfortunately, unlike some luckier people, I didn’t go somewhere warmer. I went to Boston, where they’re famed for snowstorms blowing in from the ocean at this time of year. Aren’t I a clever girl?
My reasons for going were independent of the weather, and I’m glad to have seen the city in any case. It’s very “European,” as my resident friend described it, down to the cars stopping at every pedestrian crossing (even when it’s a green light for them). It’s filled with higher education institutions (a total of 53 in the greater Boston area, including MIT and Harvard). Simply put, Boston is more sensible than New York City, for example. It’s easier there than it is in most cities to find joy in taking the subway or relaxing in a coffeeshop. And despite its many good qualities, it’s unpretentious and tolerant.
This is also true for its architecture. As the in-house architect, I can hardly be expected to talk about Boston without touching on its many buildings by various “starchitects.” These buildings may not be as well known as other works. They may not be revolutionary. Like the rest of Boston, they’re simply there, without wanting or expecting to be noticed.
One such structure, possibly my favorite in the city, is the Boston Public Library. As a writer/reader, I guess I would be expected to say that about a library because of the warm, fuzzy feelings that a collection of books gives me. Well, the reason I liked it so much was partially because of the very nice courtyard between the two wings. Mostly, though, it was because of Baker Hall. This space is lined with books, but in terms of quantity, there aren’t actually that many. My instant love of the hall was rather evoked by its quality as a study area. It’s covered by a nice, large barrel vault (basically, a semi-cylinder made out of concrete). A large barrel vault is usually a good sign. It allows for lots of light and a very open space. There were many people studying there, but also many people just reading books or newspapers, probably because it’s a comforting space to be in. They didn’t need coffee or tea or phones. That’s architecture for you.
The library was also cozy. Of course, I was biased; I’d just walked in from the presnowstorm cold. Practically any indoor space I entered felt cozy. After the trip, looking back, I think its greatest charm wasn’t the “American experience” with the coffeeshops, ready-to-go food and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but the experience of winter in a new town. Snow is the same everywhere, but so many factors pitch in to influence your perspective on it.
What’s most obvious about the difference in regard to anything is its effect on daily life. With all the love there is in my heart for Ankara (I’m not one of the haters), I will admit that that kind of snow would have paralyzed the city for three days at least. Traffic jams, accidents, people trying to go out on the streets as little as possible. Personally, I would probably have avoided driving as much as possible. Here, there weren’t only cars out and about the morning after it snowed—there were also people doing some cross-country skiing. Basically, everyone who had a pair of skis grabbed them and went out onto any of the unploughed sidewalks that did not have a single degree of inclination. A giant snowball fight involving thousands of people was quickly organized. I even saw a couple going to a snow-covered mini-amphitheater (in front of the Stata Center) with the sole purpose of sliding down on a tray to entertain their baby. Such a bothersome way to entertain a baby, especially when so many people I know wouldn’t have taken their children out at all in that weather. Of course, I wasn’t thinking that at all. I was thinking, “Oh, how endearing and original this is.”
It’s all about the attitude, you see? We can adapt to anything. We can plough magnificent quantities of snow or have fun while all the roads are blocked. Or we can sit at home, gloomy, depressed and deprived. Our choice. Let’s make the fun one.