Words &c.

Today the plan is to hit the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, which is on the Harvard Campus.

Ashmont station was closed due to construction. Free shuttle bus to JFK. Still surprised at just how damn long these subway trains are.

Like in New York, seeing abnormally high amounts of attractive women. Beginning to suspect they're robots.

We pass by the animated subway mural. I realize it's not an explosion, but people moving. Haven't been able to adjust my eyes so I can actually see the animation.

The subways here are swift, efficient, and surprisingly clean. However, I realize the Screaming Child threat is as pervasive as ever, and I should remember to bring the iPod.

The subway train only seems to be underground about half the time.

Today it is sunny, with primarily decorative clouds. I realize the neighborhood of newer buildings near the Museum of Science is actually MIT. Hopefully I can visit the MIT Museum of Technology on the way back from the Peabody.

I wonder if I'll be able to find a time machine in the Peabody.

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The subway stations are like marketplaces, with fruit stands, Dunkin' Donuts, souvenir stands, magazine stands, and even more fruitstands. There's a lot of fruit in East Coast cities.

I emerged up into Harvard Square (which is not square at all), and began to wander around in a daze. By pure luck, I ended up after a half-hour trek back in Harvard Square.

There's a guy playing Sultans of Swing and doing excellent spraypaintings.

Was not ambushed by the CarTalk brothers. Fears thusfar eased.

There's a WiFi network all over, but it's very inconveniently restricted to Harvard students. This means I might actually have to resort to asking someone to find out where I am in relation to 11 Divinity St.

I eventually wound up outside the Harvard Museum of Natural History, and decided I may as well spend the day there. They have dozens of exquisite glass flowers, with paper-thin leaves and detailed anatomical models, all made by one man. Next door to that is the mineral exhibit, with such attractions as a 1600 pound amethyst pocket, numerous crystals in bulbous formations, and a tiny sample of zyvagintsevite ( (PdPtAu)3 (PbSn) ).

In a show of excellent fortune, it turns out the Peabody Museum is in the same building as the Museum of Natural History. They have an excellent exhibit on the Tuareg and Amazigh, including clothing, a camel saddle, and a few swords. Next room over is dedicated to a huge collection of Moche vessels, which are rendered with expert detail into numerous forms including faces, animals, and a crayfish. It expands into a section of Aztec reliefs, which dot the stairs down to where the American Indian artifacts are stored.

Currently I'm sitting in the Northwest tribes exhibit, which is surprisingly well done. There's some examples of masks I've never even seen in a northwest museum.

It looks like I might need to get a disposable film camera. This digital one is too dated to find another memory card for.

Some inconsiderate vandal appears to have hacked the genitalia off this particular Northwest statue, which looks to be depicted with a handlebar mustache.

The Oceanic exhibit is eerily silent, and the wood floor creaks loudly. Automatic lights suddenly burst to life as you approach the displays. I wonder how long until that sents some octogenarian professor into v-fib.

There's a selection of war clubs, one of which looks suspiciously like a Sand People staff from Star Wars.

I buy a couple of shirts from the gift shop, which eliminates the last of the original twenties in my travel money. I'm down to small bills and a fistful of dollar coins.

Walking back to the station (where I can finally buy a CharlieCard) I expend the last seven photos on a cathedral, then turn around to see another building just as worthy of photography. It is a cruel thing.

I'll be glad when David is back in Boston. Riding the subway is fun, but the amount of time spent in transit from Milton to anywhere else takes a sizable chunk out of the day. Though car transport might be just as lengthy.

After an hour of staggering around lost, I found myself at Central Station - one station further in from Harvard.

There's a heavily made-up and formally dressed girl the bench over who looks like a German doll.

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I end up wandering around Downtown Crossing station, only to discover that MBTA customer services closes sometime around 5.

There's a restaurant called Au Bon Pain here. It sounds like the French Die Hard.

I refuse to eat at any restaurant that calls itself a 'lifestyle grill'.

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Back on the shuttle to Ashmont. The Vietnamese-American Community of Massachusetts has been having a volleyball tournament in the park for about the whole day now.

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Returned home at 7. Plan to see the North End and Chinatown tomorrow.