As a freshman, I wasn’t expecting much when it came to dorms. Being at the bottom of the totem pole in most cases means living in lesser-quality housing than the upperclassmen. Needless to say, I was blown away when I walked into International Village this past September. It was almost difficult to grapple with the fact that freshmen live there.
The cool air-conditioning was refreshing as I walked into the modern lobby accented with floor-to-ceiling windows and tasteful semi-circle couches. The lobby set the tone for the rest of the building. I was even more surprised to find that there were multiple common rooms per floor and certain floors provided students with pool tables. Also, after a stressful day of classes, residents were able to burn off steam at the gym on the second floor that even had a water fountain to refill water bottles. Post-workout, students could even take the elevator to the first-floor dining hall. International Village (IV) seemed to be the crème de la crème of dorms.
Unfortunately, IV is a fleeting dream for me as I live across campus at 153 Hemenway. An analogy may help to provide the best comparison of my dorm and the dorms in IV. If IV is a brilliant diamond, Hemenway is a chunk of coal. Actually, no. Hemenway is not coal, because coal has the potential to evolve into a precious jewel. If IV is a diamond, Hemenway is a chunk of rock salt used to keep the ice off of the sidewalks.
Walking into Hemenway, one does not enter a grandiose hall; one enters a glorified cubicle. Once securely in the building, you are bombarded by heat. See, Hemenway is bereft of a few “luxuries,” one of which is air-conditioning. However, no biggie, air-conditioning isn’t a necessity. What really makes Hemenway rough around the edges is the fact that it doesn’t have an elevator. Living on the fourth floor is a hard feat in a building without air-conditioning, and each trek up to my dorm leaves me sweaty and out of breath. Actually, moving in was a struggle. I am 5’2” and I had to carry each individual item up four flights of stairs. What would be a saving grace after that extravaganza would have been a water fountain so us living on the fourth floor could rehydrate after our workout to our rooms. But drinkable water is nowhere to be found unless you have a personal filter.
Once into my dorm, I am greeted by beige walls. My eyes scan the length of the walls only to notice that the walls aren’t actually attached to the wainscoting. Floating walls may sound cool, but the gap between the floor and the wall only serves as a magic door for mice. Yes, that’s right. Hemenway isn’t just a home for humans. It’s the perfect warm abode for furry friends.
The bathroom doesn’t break the trend either. Actually, the bathroom may propel the building to a whole new level of drabness. For hiding behind the shower curtain, sitting along the edge of the tub, creeping out from behind the paint is … mold. So, if any of the other showers in Hemenway are plagued by the same disgusting dilemma, I suggest the residents make the trip to the gym to shower.
Besides the grievances noted above, living in Hemenway isn’t utterly horrific. I still have a bed, a desk and I don’t have to leave the building to do laundry. What bothers me is that the price to live in Hemenway is relatively similar to the price per semester of IV. I know freshmen are the scum at the bottom of the pond compared to upperclassmen, but I didn’t realize that would actually mean living in the scum. So, I’d like to know why the small difference between the costs of housing per semester accounts for eight elevators, air conditioning, a gym, pool tables, stable walls, a water fountain and other luxuries the people of Hemenway live without?
– Cayla Seder is a freshman political science and economics combined major.
