Templar Knights and Treasure

Templar Knights are the Christian protectors of pligrims during the Middle Ages, considered to be the most “pure” of the knights of the crusade. Legend has it that they possesd two great treasure: the Holy Grail, and the Shroud of Turin.

-The Grail is either not in existence, or it was lost through time. The Grail itself is said to be a cup (or plate) used by Jesus at the Last Supper.

-The Shroud of Turin now exist in the Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist in Turin, northern Italy. It is said to be the cloth with which Joseph of Arimathea wrapped the body of Jesus in. There is a picture of a cruxified man on the cloth, and scientists are not sure whether the picture is a real likeness to Jesus.

Roanoke Island Colony: Gone?

In 1584, a group of England settlers settle on the coast of Roanoke Island, Virginia. The leader of the group, John White, went back to England for help after a conflict with the Native Americans, and when he came back (which is a long time, because of the conflicts between English and Spanish),he [[FOUND]] the whole colony gone, with only the word “Croatoan” carved on some trees and doors. Croatoan was one of the tribe who lived on the island.

Stonehenge: What is its Use?

Built by the Neolithic people who inhabited  the Salisbury Plain in Southern England, this monument has survived countless centuries of wind and rain. But what is its use? Why did those people built them? The fact that this monument was built only with stone tools and hands, without animal labor…..impressive.

Jack the Ripper…Murder

In this one of the oldest unsolved murder case that took place between August and November, 1888, 5 prostitutes were murdered (some say 4, some say 9, but generally it’s known as 5 victims) by an unknown person. This mysterious fear affects not only Londoners, but the rest of the United Kingdom as well. From then on, Jack the Ripper became a symbol of the poverty, crime, and all the evil of Victorian England.

The Ark of the Covenant :Real or Myth?

This Ark,mentioned in the Bible in Exodus 25, is made of acacia wood covered by gold, and two cherubs sat atop it, with their wings covering what is called the Mercy Seat. It is said to contain the two stone tablets of the ten commandments, the Rod of Aaron, and a golden pot of Manna. It is supposedly contained in the Temple of Solomon until the temple was destroyed by Babylonians in 586  A.D. The Ark was never seen again.

-The Rod of Aaron: The rod hold by Moses’ brother, Aaron.

-Manna: The food sent by God to the Israelites during their fourty year living in the desert after their escape from slavery in Egypt.

The Priory of Sion:

To every Dan Brown’s fan, the term should be a familiar one. It is said to be the pagan goddess worship cult. Supposedly founded by a French King in 1099 who charged them with keeping his secrets, this club have as its members some of the most prominent people of history, including Da Vinci and Victor Hugo. Some people say its a fraud, but the myth is still popular.

Jimmy Hoffa: Disappeared

This US trade union leader disappeared on July 30, 1975 while on his way to meet two Maffia leaders. The popular myth is that he was buried under the Giant stadium. No trace had ever been found of him, though.

Steve Fossett: Gone

American business man, aviator, sailor. First man to fly around the world in airballoon non-stop, solo. He disappeared on September 3, 2007, while flying over the Nevada desert….not a good place to crash. No trace has been found yet.

The End

P.S. To all those people who hate history, I hope you can see how fun history can be after reading this.

1.) Brutalisation
You are herded together naked, you wear the same clothes, with your head shaved. You lose your sense of individuality. Every day it’s violent trainings, until you start to accept the violence as part of your normal life. Some even start to take pride in killing.

2.) Classical conditioning
Soldiers were told to kill someone, usually a prisoner. His friends cheer him on, and afterward he is treated to good meals, and fun entertainment. He associate killing with pleasure.

3.) Operant conditioning
A stimulus-responsive training. Soldiers were train to shoot at men-shape shadow on the field, and the shadow will fall down. On the real battle field, the soldiers will shoot without a thought, even if they are terrified or nervous.

Here’s the URL for the article:

http://istopviolence.org/Article—Stop-Teaching-Our-Kids-To-Kill.php

c. Tri Angle Records, 2011

I like to focus mainly on the actual music on an album or EP when I write about it, but it’s hard to ignore the cover of Warn-U, the debut EP by the Senegal-born, Kuwait-raised singer born Fatima Al Qadiri.  Simultaneously eerie and eye-watering, the image shows a woman, face obscured by a white veil, bathing in an aquamarine, computer-generated pool of water.  Garish, stylized Arabic writing zooms out of the peach-pink background and forms a halo around the bathing figure.  The picture hits you in the face, but the sense of exotic mystery and the indeterminate identity of the figure makes the image seem bizarre and alien, like an advertisement on some street in Dubai 50 years in the future.

Though there’s nothing commercial about Ayshay’s music, these songs ooze mystery, exoticism, and religion.  Three out of four tracks are interpretations of Islamic worship songs with which Al Qadiri presumably grew up, arranged for intensely manipulated voice.  Al Qadiri layers her voice at different pitches, sometimes chipmunking them and other times dropping them to sub-Barry White levels, while keeping an unaffected vocal track in the center to hold it all together.  When free of effects, Al Qadiri’s voice is eerie and mysterious but not quite “ghostly” or “unearthly”–she sounds thoroughly like a human, albeit one enrapt by the power of God.

If anyone is thinking of Julianna Barwick, the Christian church singer who released the brilliant The Magic Place earlier this year, it’s not an unreasonable comparison.  Both are fascinated with their respective faiths’ religious vocal music and use their own voices to interpret them impressionistically.  Yet there are two key differences between Barwick and Ayshay, both of which contribute to the latter’s music becoming significantly less effective than that of the former.  Firstly, Barwick does not process her vocals–even the most alien and animal-sounding shrieks on The Magic Place are nothing more than Barwick in the raw.  Secondly, while Barwick’s compositions have clear form and structure (usually building up to a musical climax), Ayshay’s are more free-form and can thus be very difficult to follow.

The songs on Warn-U are more or less shapeless, drifting through the listener’s consciousness without finding a place to settle.  Though this only heightens the inherent mystery present in Ayshay’s music, it may also distract from its enjoyability to listeners that are not well-versed in music as avant-garde as this.  In addition, many people familiar with the works released on Tri Angle Records will be surprised.  Tri Angle is best known for fostering the microgenre known as witch house or drag, which is essentially instrumental crunk with goth and shoegaze influences.  There isn’t much beat on Warn-U, save for what sounds like beatboxing on the title track.

That’s where L.A. production duo Nguzunguzu comes in.  The album’s final track is their 12-minute megamix of the other three songs on the EP, with beats and instruments added in to support Al Qadiri’s layers of vocals.  It’s certainly the place in which the album is most accessible–there is a solid form to Nguzunguzu’s mix, and there’s no shortage of rhythm.  Yet with Al Qadiri’s vocals regulated to the background, the qualities that make the other songs so intriguing disappear.  The religion is gone, as is much of the exotic allure.  All that’s left is a twelve-minute groove that might be more effective did it not contrast so dramatically in both style and feel from the rest of the EP.  Despite this split between the original material and the Nguzunguzu mix (which takes up over half the EP), there is something to be found in both.  Though the songs may be difficult to follow, they are nonetheless memorable and consistently interesting.  Anyone interested in experimental music with an international sensibility should consider taking a listen.

But recently, my nightly homework and facebook chat routine has had a predictable soundtrack. “Cosmic Love.” “What the Water Gave Me.” “Shake it out.”

All of these are the product of Florence+The Machine, which consists of Florence Welsh, a woman described by The Sunday Times as ”the latest in a line of great English pop eccentrics”, and whatever lovely people are backing her at the given moment.

Welsh’s peculiarities certainly add to my appreciation. Her fashion sense is more Virginia Woolf/Anne of Green Gables playing dress up than the glitter trash of Gaga or Ke$ha or even Adele’s regal gowns. In music videos, she almost always ends up in contorted, emotive dancing. Her voice sounds as pure as a young folk singer even through the typical layers and additions of a pop song.

Perhaps it is that honest vocal quality that makes labels like soul or r&b feel like necessary qualifiers to her top 40 pop (at least in Britain) status. Perhaps it is that her songs are amazingly catchy and melodic, but her voice sounds ready to veer just a bit off course. (This seems least evident in the overplayed “Dog Days Are Over”, one of a few reasons it’s not on my personal list of favorites).

But I think my favorite aspect of Florence+The Machine is that Welsh never attempts to be a girl. She sounds like a woman, and her lyrics don’t contradict that. Welsh is only a few years older than Taylor Swift, whose persona and music leave her seeming like a teenager. Katy Perry is several years older, yet her songs focus on partying and “Teenage Dreams”.

You could argue that it’s an unfair comparison to make. Adele, Amy Winehouse, and Kate Nash are more properly her peers, and English female pop imports seem to avoid the girlish pitfalls of their American raised counterparts. However, it’s Welsh’s songs, with allusions to Greek Mythology, Vrginia Woolf’s suicide, and Shakespeare, that set her apart for me. Whether I crave the rebirth of “Shake it Out”, the mystic turmoil of “What the Water Gave Me”, or the disturbingly pep of “Kiss with a Fist”, Florence+The Machine is the perfect combination of clever and commercial.

*Disclaimer” I don’t know anything about music. I don’t buy records at Amoeba. I don’t go to very many concerts. Please don’t kill me.

Let me answer my own question. I have experienced such things, eaten such food, and having fulfilled such necessary criteria proceeded to have my mind blown.  Alex Pardee, at Oakland Art Murmur.

For all of you who have experienced something similar let me pose another question.  Have you ever wanted to buy art from the artist instigating the mind blowing?  I mean have you ever truly desired to possess a piece of art all for yourself?  I don’t mean the “you thought it was really pretty but a little bit weird and you could kind of see it in your house and it might look good on your wall and maybe blend in with wallpaper” sort of thing.  What I do mean is the sort of thing you would display prominently on your wall,  the sort of thing that you would touch softly as you exited the house every morning, a wistful look in your eyes as you silently mouthed the words, “Till next time.”

Well I had never experienced any such desire until I witnessed the work of Alex Pardee at Oakland Art Murmur recently.  I almost bought one of his pieces.  Oddly enough, it was the strange reminder of a childhood hobby that spurred me towards thoughts of a transaction.  Let me see if anyone can guess what the hobby was by the picture.

I could not include the image nor could I include a direct link to it so see if you can identify the image or images I am speaking of on this page http://eyesuckink.com/gallery/commercial-art/

Disturbed? Think my childhood must have been horribly twisted and grotesque? Then you obviously don’t know what hobby I’m speaking of. I’m speaking of the noble sport of Warhammer!   For anyone who engages or at one point in their distant past engaged in the beautiful game, this applies in particular to the Demons of Chaos Army.  Just a little tip for those interested… moving on!

For those of you who recognize these as another character from pop fiction, this is just the kind of caricature that Alex Pardee specializes in.  To find out more visit http://eyesuckink.blogspot.com/

and here’s a link to the festival http://oaklandartmurmur.org/

This past summer I, Karin, had the great opportunity to travel to the alleged land of leprechauns, the country where faeries are real and sheep block traffic, the Emerald Isle itself, Ireland. And really, who would say no to a two-week adventure in Europe? First there was the problem of getting there from an ocean (the Atlantic) and a continent (North America – which Mexico is a part of, by the way) away. So, on to a plane I was shepherded. After 10 hours and nearly 6,000 miles, I arrived at Heathrow International Airport in London at 7 AM local time. The flight that would take me over to St. Patrick’s homeland was not until 9:15. Time slows to a dead beat when you haven’t slept enough and have consumed enough caffeine to keep a small country – like Ireland – awake for a week, but finally it was boarding time. Finally, I thought, In an hour I’ll see my friend and won’t have to deal with airplanes and airports for two weeks. Famous last words, I tell you, famous last words. No sooner had those jinxing thoughts popped into my head did I see a final security check point I had to pass. No problem, I just have to show them my boarding pass and my… And my passport that had, in a span of two hours, disappeared from my bag.

Long story short, I had the worst travel experience anyone could ever have the first time traveling alone.

So with that long introduction, I would like to introduce Karin’s Tips for Teens Traveling to Foreign Countries Alone. Don’t mind the long title.

Before Leaving Home:

• Make copies of your passport. You know, that page with your photo on it? No matter how bad the photo of you may be, be sure to leave a copy with your parents and one in your carry-on.
• Pack your phone charger in your carry-on. My phone ran out of battery during my crisis and I had packed the charger in my suitcase. I ended up running around London ID-less with a dead phone.
• Carry cash out of your wallet as well. Have enough to get you through at least a day.
• Have the phone number / address for your country’s embassy or consulate handy. And pray that  you won’t need it.
• Pack a book. Traveling always means long lengths of time sitting and/or waiting, whether on a plane or the sitting room of Heathrow immigration…

On the Plane:

• Sleep. It is honestly the best thing for jet-lag.

While Abroad:

• Walk the streets. It’s the best way to learn about the country and culture you’re in.
• Be careful with water. The last thing you want is a foreign stomach bug.
• Do take the local food, but,
• Do take acidophilus pills for your digestive system. The chewable kind are quite good.
• Make sure your plans aren’t too rigid. Have some flexibility about scheduling because plans change, often for the better.
• And most importantly, have fun!

If you do lose your passport (or if it gets stolen by faeries, whichever you prefer):

• First, take a deep breath.  No matter how it may feel, it’s not the end of the world.
• Try to remember the last time you saw it; where were you? What were you doing? Who was around you?
• Thoroughly check your bags.
• If applicable, check the information center for lost and found items.
• Go to or call your closest embassy/consulate. They will tell you exactly what you have to do and what will happen. not to mention they speak your language.
• Most importantly, stay calm. This could happen to anybody, and be thankful that you, at least, were prepared.

So stay safe, dear friend, and let your heart lead to all corners of the world.

Good luck!

PS.
In the end my passport was found at the airport. Of course they told me that when I got to the Japanese embassy, so I ended up running around London for no reason. But thankfully, at the end of a frantic day I did get to see my friend and not have to worry about airplanes, or airports, or passports for two whole weeks.

Wiesenfeld, a 21-year-old, openly gay SoCal resident, has plenty to protest about. This album was released in the wake of the passing of Proposition 8, re-prohibiting gay marriage in California after its short-but-sweet period of legality. And if you’ve heard any bullshit about how nobody in California is going to discriminate against you based on your sexuality (presumably from a straight person who pretends to be tolerant but harbors a subconscious and almost superstitious prejudice), think again. As a seventeen-year-old gay kid living in what is supposedly the most LGBT-friendly city on earth, I know there are always too many exceptions, and I can more than identify with what Wiesenfeld sings about.

The songs on this album that most overtly address this issue are “Plea” and the excellent “<3.” “Plea,” a passionately furious song that ends with a reminder that “we’re still not valid,” is chilling. “<3,” over a fluttering piano loop and a stormy-ocean beat, is an elopement ballad that ends not in tragedy but in liberation (“Met in the night like it was wrong/Laugh at the life left now that we’re gone/I won’t go back/I love you too much”). But what makes this a protest record, not just an album with two songs about being discriminated against on it, is the sympathy and complexity of Wiesenfeld’s gay characters and the elaborate love stories Wiesenfeld spins with as few words as possible. The powerful “Rain Smell” describes a sad memory of a lover evoked by water, set to a background that evokes a row on a creek in the rain. “You’re My Excuse To Travel” is a romantic tune delivered in inarticulate teenage slang and run through piercing digital effects. And “Maximalist,” arguably Wiesenfeld’s mission statement, consists of a funky, aggressive beat interrupted time to time by samples of dialogue about matters of the heart. This is not an album about queer love–this is an album simply about love, and how nothing can or should stop it.

Lyrics aside, the music used to support Wiesenfeld’s pleas is perfectly crafted. The most obvious feature of Baths’ music is the rhythm. This is neither dance nor ambient music–this is simply very percussive electronic music, built around funky cross-rhythms and clattering beats. The filtered and effected samples (the piano on “<3,” the tender guitar on “Aminals”) have more to do with chillwave than anything else, although Wiesenfeld’s music lacks the haziness and laziness felt in the music of Washed Out or Toro Y Moi. Appearing every now and again is Wiesenfeld’s voice, a Mel Blanc falsetto that often sounds comical but is used to great effect (the sensual yelps on lead single “Lovely Bloodflow”).

The (surprisingly large) number of people I know who have seen Wiesenfeld perform live describe him as an awkward, mild-mannered guy who hops onstage, sheepishly says something like “Hi, I’m Baths, how’s everyone doing?” and proceeds to rip the roof off the club. I’ve never seen a Baths show for some reason, but I am not surprised in the least by this description–on Cerulean, Wiesenfeld comes across as the kind of dude who could beat the shit out of you if he wanted to (his muscular music) but would much rather just give you a giant hug and tell you how much he loves you (his voice and lyrics). He’s not hard to love back, and neither is his music.

These were on the test.

1. If I say I love anyone in high school, I will almost certainly laugh at my silly little teen self in college.

2. If I write love poetry in high school, aI will certainly laugh about my silly little teen self a week later.

3. Tea and cuddling are good for the body and soul.

4. Bisexuality is great until you break up and you both have the exact same dating pool.

5. Sleep and baking cookies are the two best activities the night before a math test.

6. You can not just substitute baking powder for baking soda.

7. I talk about myself too much. Then again, so do most people. There’s something fun about the almost universal self-absorption of high school. Yippee!

8. Cosmo will not teach you to find love. Cosmo will teach you do do strange, quasi-kinky but mostly just awkward things in bed. Cosmo will teach you how to creep out a perfectly nice random hookup.

9. Lemon juice on hair +sunbathing = pretty highlights.

10. Wind is good for the hair, the mood, and the cheeks.

11. When I read a book, the mood, the speaking style, everything about it starts to seep into my life. When I read Oscar Wilde, I start idly forming epigrams in my head, and saying witty but vaguely nihilistic things to my friends.

12. There are very few places to pee in the Haight. Options include McDonalds, the park, and one public bathroom up near Stanyan.

13. I should listen to my brother. You probably should too. I mean my brother, not yours. Unless your brother works at Google.

14. Remember the golden rule of hookups: If he’s not going down, neither should you.

15. Lily Allen is among the best artists for shower singing.

16. 511.org will make you a transit warrior, too.

18. Organization isn’t uncool, just boring! Consider the prettiness of google calenders as a possible benefit.

19. Google should take over the world.

20. Facebook is not a good place for fights, poetry, or flirting. Facebook is a good place for narcissism and stalking exes.

21. There are two types of people in the world, dumpers and dumpees. Also, John Green is pretty great. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hd_bVk3ajk0

22. Aloe, honey, crazy intense lotion, and especially men’s shaving cream are the best solutions for razor burn.

23…..

I don’t actually know very much. I should work on that.

In the book, Snow Flower and Lily were lao tongs at the age of seven. Snow Flower was born into a wealthy family, and always dreamed of flying off, while Lily was born into a poor family, and very down-to-earth. However, Snow Flower’s father becomes addicted to opium and soon her family fall from a high standing to nearly beggars. Her aunt, who was a match maker, do her best but was only able to find a butcher for Snow Flower’s husband (butchers were considered as one of the lowliest career then in China) . Snow Flower’s aunt was able to find Lily a better husband, due to Lily’s perfectly bound feet, a ” golden lily” of 7 in*.  Despite their differences, the two girls loved each other, and continued their relationship despite Lily’s mother-in-law’s disapproval. Together they share the joys , griefs, and the bitterness of their lives.  But a misunderstanding comes between them, and tear them apart for eight years, until Snow Flower’s sickness brought them together again. After Snow Flower died, Lily realized her mistake, but it was too late.

The story is told from Lily’s view, as a kind of explanation. It’s a sad and heart-breaking story, beautifully told. This is a book of friendship, of struggles, and most of all, repentance. I think it’s important for women to read this book, to learn how we were treated back then, and value our freedom even more. It’s also important for all of us to read it, for it teaches us the value of friendship. It’s a truly inspiring piece of work.

*Historical note: 3 inches was considered the best length for binding feet, but Lily’s 7 inches were considered pretty good. one out of ten girls in China died from foot binding.

• Connecticut College, New London, Connecticut.

Highly academic, considered a little ivy, highly regarded in liberal arts, Phi Beta Kappa chapter, 2000 students.

After driving two hours from our not so hot and sexy hotel in New Rochelle, Manhattan, we arrived in New London Connecticut.  This charming New England town was situated rather aptly on the Thames River, and did indeed conjure vague images of old England.  The anglophile in me was only encouraged when, as we neared the college, it began to drizzle pleasantly.  We took an abbreviated and damp tour of the small, subdued, stone and mortar campus.  At the end of the tour I found I had come away with remarkably little information regarding the academics there, a deplorable transgression that would unfortunately be repeated at all too many a college.  (eventually I gave up and focused mainly on the scenery.  I tried to absorb what one of those cheesy guide books might call the “feel” or “spirit” of the town and campus. I think I did fare well in this regard.)  The town was very pleasant and boasted a very good Fish ‘n Chips, I don’t know about the other seafood but this was excellent, though by no means a reason to go to college there.  In fact, it’s entirely possible you might grow to abhor this dish on the grounds that it looked to be the only suitable college cuisine in the area (The cafeteria was rather sparse).

• Wesleyan University, Middletown, Connecticut.

Highly academic, little Ivy, member of Phi Beta Kappa, 2700 students.

From New London we drove to Middletown, as a freak New England rain storm dowsed the highway along with our hopes of a walking tour of Wesleyan.  Overall, Wesleyan had a large campus and even more imposing stone manors than Connecticut College.  We ducked into the library briefly.  Stoic as I am when faced with overwhelming bookishness, nothing could have prepared me for what I found at Wesleyan.  The original Library a tall brick building had been housed in a larger more comfortable modern one, giving the obvious effect of a building inside a building.  The original brick frame had been filled with layer upon layer of metal scaffolds that housed a veritable ten stories worth of old books.  To the fore of this menagerie of dusty academia was a cozy reading room that looked out over the cheerfully rain drenched quad.  I don’t think a fainted, but I do know I was rather shaken as we exited the place drove away.  My advice, don’t visit Wesleyan unless you have an overwhelmingly good chance of getting in, you may be scarred for life by the stress of not knowing.

• Sarah Lawrence, Yonkers, New York

Highly academic, activist school, strong independent studies program, Oxford style tutelage system, less than 2000 students.

Yep, Sarah Lawrence, one of those feminist schools.  Oops, what am I saying, I mean one of those schools that refused to masculinize its name after repeated petition for it to be changed.  But in all seriousness, even if this school was not “out there” feminists, it was at least secretly so.  I mean the dorms had strange names and the cafeteria was really scaled down.  There was tea and a salad bar and the all too obvious scent of conspiracy.  This lack of cafeteria epicness was a disturbing trend that had started at Connecticut College and was continuing here.  I don’t know whether this was due to a massive feminist plot, or just a general demoralization brought on by the supremacy of the eateries of the West Coast.  In any case, I was impressed with neither the selection of vitals, nor the weak scheming of the women of upper Manhattan.

• NYU, Greenwich Village, New York, Highly academic, private research University, Phi Beta Kappa chapter., 43000 students.



We had hiked about a mile in the deadly Manhattan sun, only to be turned away shy of water.  We entered one of NYU’s skyscrapers to find that not only could we not tour the building, but we also couldn’t remain there, even to get a drink.  NYU obviously has a problem with the less educated sectors of society, the scum of the street.  Those degenerates who would insist on the liberal and inconsiderate use of the water fountains.  I guess the college is in New York, so they do have point.  So, lacking a guide and forced to carry out our expedition in the outdoors, we proceeded to saunter around the central quad and peer into all the ground level windows, fulfilling the roles of the bums we had been so relegated to.  Then, as if shedding off our poverty stricken facades, we hailed cabs and disappeared down the street.   It is worth noting that NYU did not appear to have a cafeteria of significance, once again do to the bums.

• Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, New York

Highly academic, small liberal arts, seven sisters member, little ivy, Phi Beta Kappa chapter, 2400 students.

A small, up and coming liberal arts college with the most gorgeous campus evaar!  The campus was so so so so so so so so so so, so Beautiful!  They do have a problem with some sort of large borrowing rodent though, perhaps a marmot or something like that. They can be glimpsed skulking in the underbrush.   Note: Vassar contains the mother of all libraries.

• Bard College, Saratoga Springs, new York

Highly academic, liberal arts college, 2000 students.

Typical liberal arts College, nothing particularly important to report besides a very invigorated and rambunctious squirrel population.  Need I say more?

• Skidmore College, Saratoga Springs, New York

Small Liberal Arts College, New ivy, Phi Beta Kappa chapter, 2500 students.

There’s not much to be said about these besides that they are excellent and very pleasant liberal arts schools.

• Amherst College, Amherst, Massachusetts

Highly academic, small liberal arts, Little Ivy, Phi Beta Kappa chapter, five school consortium 1800 students.

See above for description

• Hampshire College, Amherst, Massachusetts

Small liberal arts, strong independent and study and study abroad program, five school consortium, 1500 students.

I was very impressed with the students here.  They were by far the most articulate and open minded people I have seen at a college campus in a while.  This general sense seems to have prevailed in most all of their postgraduates for, despite the fact that Hampshire doesn’t give grades, its students frequently attend the most prestigious graduate programs in the land.  This is often chalked up to the fact that they have an actual sense of humor when they leave the school.

• Clark University, Worcester, Massachusetts

Liberal Arts Research University, Phi Beta Kappa Chapter, activist school, 3000 students.

I was pleasantly surprised by Clark.  The students seemed very intelligent and well spoken.  They were also very friendly as I found myself unofficially invited into a laboratory to view a study on stickleback trout.  There, I was and asked if I would major in biology.  Another thing that intrigued me was the fact that it was a liberal arts research university; this seems to me the best of both worlds.

• University of Mary Washington , Fredericksburg, Virginia

Public Liberal Arts University, Phi Beta Kappa chapter, 5000 students.

Similar mission to Clark, very, very beautiful campus, I felt very at home there.  Altogether,a very pleasant end to my college road trip.