The MIT campus was huge, and the main building was so far away from the T that I had to walk about fifteen minutes on a cold March morning to get to the reception center. The classroom where the information session was held was not in the reception center; it was in another building that was somehow connected to the main building; but since it was part of the "Infinite Corridors" that connected every single building on the east campus, I got lost pretty quickly. 

   The admission officer who spoke at the info session was new to the job, and she clearly wasn't the best speaker I had met. Soon I got tired of her speech -- getting bored is one of the disadvantages cultivated from having been to way too many info sessions -- since the school itself was so unique but she failed to pick out the specific characters of the school that might further interest the audience. 

   The tour, however, turned out to be much better than I expected. Our tour guide was a typical MIT student -- a short and skinny Asian, who talked really fast and majored in something related to astronomy whose specific name did not mark in my brain because it was uttered in light speed. He obviously attempted to make our tour fun, because MIT was a place of dry and nerdy humor; unfortunately, most of the tourists were not nerdy enough to get some of his jokes, not to mention his awkward laughs at his own jokes that were not got by the audience. I first thought it was boring and wanted to leave, but I persuaded myself to stay for the last part of the tour, which was about living and dining, two most important parts of the campus tour. 

   I'm glad that I stayed, because the tour got much more interesting as more fun facts about MIT were told. The school has such a character that only certain types of students fit into its unique vibe. I could not envision myself spending four best years of my life in there, but nevertheless I grew to, not exactly like, but appreciate the school. At the end of the tour I sent out two postcards: one to a friend who just got accepted by MIT, the other to a friend back home who was accepted by Peking University but who was so clearly a great fit for MIT. 

   The tour ended, but a light snow shower began. I was too impatient to wait for the T bus, so I walked all the way from central MIT campus to Harvard Square, along the Mass. Avenue. 

   It was a fun walk. The streets were decorated with lovely Victorian buildings and small culinary gems that I happened to have come across on the guide book. However, I had made my destination very clear: Angelo's Pizza on Broadway. I looked it up online yesterday, and found out that it had a 4.5 out of 5 on yelp.com, because clearly you could get a huuuuuuge slice of pizza for only 1.75 dollars. It was a fifty minutes walk, and I found myself walking past all the familiar buildings, including the Cambridge public library, which I came across two summers ago. By the time I got there, I was too hungry to tell if the pizza was good; it was definitely cheap and big, though, and I got out of the pizzeria without feeling too much satisfaction or disappointment. 

   I decided not to go inside the Harvard Yard, simply because I would linger there for too long because of all the great summer memories all those buildings would evoke. But I did catch a glimpse at my buddy John, which got unusually few visitors and photographers today. 

   Harvard Square was as busy as usual, even when school was not in session. I went to Pinkberry to had a small cup of frozen yogurt, another place that was full of memories from two summers ago. Then I somehow decided not to care about either calories or money, and went to Otto to get another slice of pizza. It was sublime. The four-cheese pizza was the best I'd had so far; it was rich but not too oily. It had a nice balance of saltiness and sweetness from the ricotta cheese. It was a little bit pricey, as everything was in Cambridge: for 3.5 I got a slice much smaller than the one I got from Angelo's, but it was well worth the try. 

   After lunch, I found myself wandering in the Square, trying to find places that I frequently visited and hung out with my friends. I spotted the burger place I went with Jack, the Starbucks and pinkberry I went with the girls, and I tried to find Casablanca, a place I had been to only once with Gates but was so good that it always stayed in my memory. I walked on the streets without knowing where it was; there was something about the turning and the folding of the streets that somehow convinced me that it was close to where I stood, except that I could not find the sign that was usually hung outside of a small underground corner. On my way back, I looked at every downward stairs carefully; my feelings told me that one of them might be the restaurant, so I decided to go down, even tough there was no sign at all. Then I saw a piece of paper clung to the glass door, saying that the restaurant was "for ever closed". The phrasing was so violent, and I was struck by a wave of sentiment that made me want to cry. I took out my camera and pictured it. It was just very very sad. 

   Then I walked out of the street and bumped into an open-street table that had many pairs of hunter boots on them. They were all on sale, but they were not the knee-length style I was looking for. I walked into the Tannery expectedly, and found out that the classic knee-length green ones that I had wanted to get were on sale. There's only size six though, but I still tried them one and they fitted perfectly. I bought them without much hesitation; it was more than half-priced, and I doubted if I could get more lucky in getting a cheaper price for a classic expensive brand like Hunter. 

   I still had almost two hours left, so I took the T to Park Street. I had no idea where I wanted to go, but when I got out of the subway station, I found out that I was in Boston Common, and the State House was right in front of me. The next thing I knew, I was walking on part of the Freedom Trail. Boston was such a walker-friendly city. I had planned to walk the trail tomorrow, except that I had already unexpectedly bumped into the sight. I walked along the street, and I didn't know until later that I had walked past the first church, first Baptist Church, and first Catholic church in Boston all at the same time. I also walked across the first public garden in America. Then I walked onto Newbury street. I save the shopping part for the last day, but I still got time to stroll around the streets. I didn't have a particular destination, and with the huge box that contained my newly-bought Hunter boots, I couldn't walk for too long either. 

   I decided to re-walk the Freedom Trail and go to Chinatown tomorrow; Museum of Fine Arts is for Saturday, and shopping for Sunday. 

   All is well so far, and I am truly obsessed with the city.