a field guide to coastal academia
let’s wade deeper into coastal academia, maybe spend a day in the life of an imaginary academic?
• a long walk along a mist-covered quay, kicking loose pebbles into the water. curls mussed from sleep and a lack of caffeine. the bite of the sea breeze rushes right through a pair of navy linen trousers. at least you’d the foresight to throw on a cardigan. you carry a tote filled to capacity. it is a collection of texts—perhaps classics or myths or histories or natural sciences—and journals or notebooks.
• you turn the corner and move up the main road, for a little cafe that’s busy enough to feel lively, soft enough for some light reading. you order something, a favorite drink. could be tea or coffee. you draw a notebook out of the depths of your bag, scribble out a plan—a list of sorts—as the glass front door opens and closes with a chime. salt air wafts inside. sand spills across the floor boards, scraping ever so slightly against the soles of a few dozen sleepy shoes. you write and sip…lost within a tide table or folklore, dreaming about your am class: a lecture on the green lawns of university, the dancing shadows of palm forms or oak branches underfoot.
• you join the wave of students beneath the limestone arches, bruises under eyes, salt clinging to lashes. the athletes prowl past in activewear, some damp with an early run, others dripping ocean water on the cracked walk. it smells like all mornings do, fresh and clean.
• classes are enjoyable, filled with bright lecture halls, a fluorescent-filled lab or two, a breezy lunch within a chilled eatery on campus. you order a sandwich/chips today, something fresh to nosh on as you head for the beach.
• you spread a blanket, search for shells, relish the sea breeze for an hour or two with some friends. sharing a snack of figs and cheese, you talk ancient seafaring or debate the classics. you pick up after yourselves, even after others—travelers too lazy to care for the world.
• you amble home, trousers rolled to the ankles still. a swath of golden light fills the dormitory. it falls across an array of loose papers and pens: a map of the stars, the iliad, or a diagram of a lighthouse. you crack open a window, ensure the scrap of driftwood holds firm all your notes and ideas, and sink into studying. you light a candle after sunset and put on a kettle.
• you fall into your favorites, then select one to take to bed, where you curl up, sandy-toed and yawning.
ok, now let’s spend an actual, modern day together as that was just pretend.
let’s see…what can one do?
• wake up an find the sun like a cat, basking in its light until you peel yourself off the cushions. preferably this is outside, of course.
• find some form of caffeine and enjoy it. sure, you are probably wanting to read something. select one of the longstanding favorites: newspaper, poetry, last night’s notes. or write in a journal or plan your whole day.
• go on an afternoon bike ride to clear your thoughts of clutter or, perhaps, a swim in a pool... you can certainly walk along the shoreline if that’s accessible to you. just make sure you’re checking flag status and warnings.
• sip decaf teas in the afternoon, cocoa in the evenings when it finally cools down. make a homemade meal—a grilled filet of choice, or a fresh salad with vine-ripened tomatoes.
just…i don’t know, live more slowly? yes, it’s academia.
yes, it’s romanticizing studying and all that too. but let us face it—it’s hot! we’ve got to take it slow here.
so enjoy it, enjoy it deeply.
andulkaphoto
dailybridgerton
germansingergirl
titsay
izzy806
snowghoul
