Go Into the Basement

If you only venture below ground for the occasional load of laundry or late-night jolt of Dr. Pepper, you’re not
By Diana E. Garvin

If you only venture below ground for the occasional load of laundry or late-night jolt of Dr. Pepper, you’re not in the know. The mundane floors we tread upon conceal a lode of treasures. In search of basement gems, FM descended into the subterranean depths of fair Harvard.

Clavery Climbing Wall

If Ansel Adams had gone into interior design, he probably would have produced something like the Claverly basement, home to the Harvard Mountaineering Club. Their illustrious set-up contains not one, but two rock walls, as well as a bouldering room catering to ropes-free climbers who dare to scamper across the ceiling a la Spiderman (the floor is well-padded with mattresses for the novice rock climber). Harvard Mountaineering Club member Neal K. Gupta ’07 says walk-ins are “totally welcome.” Fellow member Lucas T. Laurensen ’06 notes that “beginners are totally welcome to use our gear to decide if they want to buy their own.” Aside from rock climbing, the Mountaineering Club headquarters also offers a beautifully furnished common room, decorated with huge black and white photos of the back country, old fashioned snowshoes and bookshelves packed with bound editions of the club’s history.

Dudley House’s Cafe Gato Rojo

Gato Rojo (translation: “The Red Cat”) looks like an average dorm room, albeit an extremely crowded one. The shelves next to the bar overflows with the castaway books of Rojo regulars, while the multi-colored Christmas lights and potted palms offer a festive, hodgepodge atmosphere. After selecting your beverage of choice, which will be provided in a bowl-sized pastel ceramic cup, you can choose between a private table or a more communal couch seating. The kids behind the counter pick the music—and they have good taste. The sounds run from punk in the morning to folk in the late afternoon, but baristas are usually receptive to requests. Sarah Hardin ’04 highly endorses the pastries. “My personal favorite are the frosted sticky cinnamon buns.” All of the menu items are extremely reasonably priced—a cup of tea will only set you back $0.85. Those seeking the Gato Rojo’s notorious chocolate croissants or maple scones had best arrive early; they are usually sold out by 10 a.m.

Quincy House Pottery Studio

Even if you have never set foot in the Carpenter Center, chances are you will still appreciate the artistically minded Quincy basement. Late-blooming artists are more than welcome. Even Holly Neufer, who runs the pottery room, as well as a Wednesday night class on wheel throwing and hand building, didn’t discover pottery until she was in her forties. In an interesting double disassociation, Holly claims that her favorite aspect of the subterranean pottery room is its invigorating effects. “I enjoy working with the students, and taking part in their energy,” she says. Conversely, all four students in the room that night admitted that they attended Holly’s classes for their sedative effects. “It’s really very relaxing,” said Richard C. Lonsdorf ’06 as he put the finishing touches on a shallow earth-toned bowl he was glazing. A quick glance at the other projects on the shelves shed light on the students’ new-found love for clay. No less than eight ceramic shot glasses awaited their turn in the kiln.

Adams House Molotov Cafe

Those in the late-night munchie market will find their every craving in the basement of Adam’s House entryway D. With an average price of 50 cents, which will buy you anything from burritos to blintzes, the Molotov Cafe menu certainly will not break the bank. The decor, which consists of small black metal chairs and table and concrete walls with exposed pipes, all painted in a stop light red hue, leaves something to be desired. but the entertainment is fantastic. Dance Dance Revolution, cable TV, frequent movie nights—thanks to the DVD player—and Play Station 2 tournaments ensure that all cafe patrons leave with both full stomachs and empty brains.

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