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307 East John Street definitely lives up to the "home away from home" hype as an ideal international meeting place very close to campus since 1969. Less well-known as the A. Epstein International Center, it's a place I've loved since I paid my first visit, which was only last year, relatively late in my graduate life, unfortunately.
I first learned of the club from a resident, friend, and colleague: Julio Urbina. I can't really recall much from my first visit other than that I made a few new friends within minutes. Or maybe I found myself so easily drawn there on subsequent Thursday nights for the refreshing "coffee hours." And it became that cool routine which has replaced my first memories of the Cosmopolitan Club, while eagerly wrapping up my doctoral research and seeking an escape from arcane academics. I found myself initially out of place during coffee hours, though that would rapidly change. Though usually one of the few Americans in attendance at events in this decidedly international house, I was never intimidated and felt more than welcome, so much so that "I'm just from the U.S." became my greeting joke to curious others. Although sometimes others thought I was German… perhaps my accent…. In any case, it proved an ideal place to meet a new friend, especially for me with my bleak social life.
The club's motto, Above all nations is humanity, underscores its
central cosmopolitan attitude and the refreshingly dynamic, culturally
diverse cast of characters. Its emphasis on cultural bridge-building rivals
anything else on campus. In my visits to the house, I've seen jungle dances,
sampled concocted drinks laced with frog extract, eaten Russian crepes,
heard Argentinean music, learned Turkish coffee superstition, and picked
up interesting tidbits of gossip circulating in the international student
community. And even that doesn't account for the dozens of interactions
I've had with foreign students, nor the plethora of friends I've made.
Sunday night dinners are also open for all via reservation. Ample space efficiently accommodates 50-60 guests. Considering the quality and authenticity of the ethnic food, and the pleasant social atmosphere, the $6.00 meal fee is most certainly a bargain, and it's even less for club members.
For the record, the Cosmo Club proved a great meeting place, especially for one seeking foreign girls, though I'm sure it works the other way too. I've been involved in several hookups for others, and for myself as well, not to mention all the chance encounters. There was enjoyable romantic mystique about that place that lured me from late-night research, and I managed to bring a few new guests with the properly worded advertisement and the hope of rendezvous.
Architecturally, the building layout is unique, and the style a mixture of pleasant singularities. So much so, that cosmopolitan is an altogether apt adjective for the house. In particular, there's a perceptible comfort and homeliness manifested in the fireplace and its mantle, the old picture of the club's first members (dating back to 1907), the pianos, and the bay windows. And most importantly, enough furniture for plenty of seating space. Ornate white columns delineate the interior foyer and its closet, mailboxes, "welcome center," and staircase.
Further inside, one can relax in the TV room tuned to their favorite soap opera, lounging on the furniture nestled between a rustic bookshelf on one side and an historic Mercator projection world map wallpapered on the other, still showing the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. During the Valentine's Day parties, it's usually the darkest and mostly romantically colored room for some reason or other. It's also the ideal place to hide when something social goes disastrously wrong—if the kitchen is bustling with cooks and leaving the house is impractical or socially out of the question.
During coffee hours, most visitors congregate in the "dining room" at the back right end of the house, which by sheer coincidence is where the food is served. The hungrier visitors usually don't stray too far from the abundant bread, muffins, and bagels that are donated from Panera Bread, or when I'm cooking, the crackers with salmon and Jack Daniel's whiskey syrup. I was bemused at how many people that room actually accommodates when good ethnic food is served, and how the foreign and domestic eyes never wander very far from the serving window spaces connecting to the kitchen under the cabinets. In fact, in a classic behavioral study case, I noticed that the more frequent visitors have learned to stand behind the serving table (next to the cabinets and service windows), not only to be in first position to sample the foods and drinks, but also to incur a sense of authority and familiarity. Okay, I'll admit, one of the study subjects who played that trick was me.
Adorned with foreign icons, posters, and pictures, this room also boasts
an oddly fitting checkerboard floor, on which the omnipresent chess matches
of social intrigue and scheming are figuratively played out. The floor
extends toward the front piano room, opening through another central room
which usually doubles as a Salsa/Merengue dance floor during Latin American
coffee hours.
Club executive director Andrea Shields's back office (i.e., the command center, headquarters, helm, conn, or whatever one chooses to call it) boasts perhaps the prettiest collage of photos in the land, and showcases quite a unique collection of souvenirs and crafts from around the world. Not to mention a surreal but stylish color to the room, where any untoward conversations or dubious scheming can be conveniently muffled by the soft carpeting. It's pleasing to actually be pictured on that wall with the thousands of others before me.
Otherwise, the upstairs is private and normally off-limits, though during Swedish coffee hour when we (a housemate and I) were exchanging research lab gossip upstairs, a large chain dance managed to make it up to the third floor and into Julio's room to surprise us. How did they know we were up there?
Finally, again, I love the place. I've even struggled this semester missing underwater hockey, a sport I took up last summer, for each coffee hour. In fact, I only missed one all semester. Anyway, though the west coast awaits me, I will not forget the experience. Thanks to all the residents, members, and visitors who enriched my worldly perspective and provided me mutual friendship.
