Vassar In The Summer, Part 2

One of the first questions I asked myself after hearing about my acceptance into summer employment was, How am I going to survive? A month and a half later, I was still asking myself the same question. I have no car, which certainly complicates going to the grocery store, and my room could be likened to a sauna, which makes remaining comfortable close to impossible.

Looking back, it seems a little ridiculous to remember packing my suitcase full of Ramen noodles (typical college food) and thinking that maybe I could live off of those for a while. It seems pretty evident now that I was not taking the idea of survival seriously. The first day I was supposed to be providing for myself, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn't justify spending cash at the dining center (or ACDC, as we like to call it), because even though the food is decent, after three years I've gotten pretty sick of it. I'd had Ramen noodles the night before, and once you've had those, you have to forget what they taste like in order to ever want to eat them again. In a state of panic, I called my parents—which is usually the last thing I want to do if I plan on finding a solution to a problem.

“Why don’t you, uh, go to that Middle Eastern place? That’s pretty affordable,” my dad responded.

Thinking this idea was the best one anyone had come up with, I set off on my bike in search of one of my favorite nearby restaurants, Zorona’s, hoping a $2.99 falafel sandwich might stave off my hunger. Because it was Memorial Day, I found out that Zorona’s was closed, so I tried to think of the most affordable place I could eat, while not looking like a complete creep by eating out alone. Thinking that the only place that might possibly fit this description was the 24-hour, close to campus diner, I walked in and ordered a table for one.

I think the waiter felt bad for me, so he tried to make conversation. Assuming I was a college student, he asked what I was doing over the summer. When I told him I was working student employment and had to cook for myself, he immediately understood. After receiving my Diet Coke, I ordered the cheapest dinner on the menu: the $9.99 “Half a chicken with stuffing,” and helped myself to the salad bar. Within the next ten minutes, not only did the half chicken appear (and yes, it was an actual half!) but so did a basket of rolls, a bowl of tomato and rice soup, a baked potato, and a plate of broccoli. So much for the chicken.

By the time I had finished the bowl of soup, I had absolutely no room left for the chicken or the baked potato, let alone the generous portion of dessert that comes with the meal (I usually get the rice pudding). Leaving these items untouched, I got them to go. Needless to say, I had dinner and dessert for the next three days.

I've been out of my left-overs for nearly a week now, but I'm starting to do what tends to happen whenever I get in trouble-get creative. I would estimate the grocery store to be about a 20 minute walk from campus, but although the area surrounding campus is covered with sidewalks, a car is pretty necessary if you plan on bringing back a bunch of groceries. My solution? Find a friend with a car.

Last Friday my boss let me use her car to go grocery shopping at the end of my shift (out of pity, like usual) and I was finally able to start cooking in the Main Building kitchen. Although it's still pretty scary, it's not too terrible if you provide your own pots and pans, which you can usually find in the free boxes scattered around campus. I've started cooking meals that are easy, such as stir-fries, eggs and toast, chicken, and grilled cheese sandwiches, and might try some harder dishes once I improve my skills. Plus the grocery store has instant Indian dishes for those times when I feel really lazy; my parents are sending me a package of them. At this point, I think I'll survive the kitchen. Now it's time to fight the ever-rising temperature of my room.