JOIN USI’ve always had a weakness for grand old universities, with their stunning landscapes, gothic buildings, and carefree students sprawled on fresh grass with books and coffee for company.
It’s like being stuck in time, away from all the boss pleasing and traffic beating that most of us have to grapple with in our adult lives. So, when my brother got accepted to Cornell University, my joy knew no bounds. Mostly because I’d get to play out my Ivy-League fantasies at a little American town called Ithaca.
Our four-hour drive from New York City to Ithaca was like travelling in a time machine. The skyscrapers swooshed into sloped-roof country houses and flashy yellow cabs transformed into virtuous pickup trucks — a symbol of the honest-to-goodness, earnest American.
Yes, I was in America, but in the 1970s.
Smells like teen spirit
Tiny, unassuming Ithaca, in the hills of upstate New York, hardly qualifies as a tourist spot, and is often overlooked — perhaps considering its proximity to its glitzy big brother, New York City.
The charming town sits cosily amidst acres of dense forests with tumbling waterfalls that are ripe for hiking, kayaking and wild swimming.
But what adds to Ithaca’s allure is that it is home to not one but two great institutions, Cornell University and Ithaca College. You can almost feel a distinct youthful buzz in the air wafting through its streets, museums, watering holes and cafes.
As I walked wide-eyed into the 2,400-acre Cornell campus, my brother informed me that it came with its very own gorges and hiking trails, which are incidentally open to the public. Not to forget the quietly gleaming Beebe Lake that students must sometimes trek across to reach their next class.
We passed cheerleaders in the midst of a fervent routine, as we hurried along to the imposing McGraw Tower, and huffed and puffed up 161 winding steps. The famed Cornell Chimes were about to be played, a bastion of tradition that has serenaded Ithacans for over a hundred years.
The panoramic view from the top displayed the sprawling campus in all its green glory. Before I could put my finger on what the university’s lofty spires and Victorian architecture reminded me of, the chimesmaster pedalled the bells and John Williams’s deep, soulful symphony engulfed the tower. Harry Potter. But of course.
Unlike its Oxbridge counterpart, everyone here, student or not, was invited to learn and participate. One could catch a movie at the Cornell Cinema or browse through the collection at the famed Herbert F Johnson Museum of Art that boasts of artefacts dating back to the Middle Ages.
The Lab of Ornithology entices birders with interactive displays, an expansive bird-song library and guided walks in the nearby woods. Every cranny of the university was out to stimulate us intellectually, and we gave in without a fight.
A ‘gorges’ town
‘Ithaca is Gorges!’ The town’s slogan took new meaning when we began exploring its gently rugged landscape. Ithaca is studded with over 150 glittering waterfalls that spill over ancient gorges carved out during the Ice Age.
The Fall Creek Gorge and Cascadilla Gorge are two of the most popular gorges around, brimming with local plant and wildlife. Easily accessible from the heart of the town, they offer a postcard-perfect setting for hiking, meditation or fossil hunting. Given that these gorges are more than 450 million years old, it’s not uncommon to find fossils of plant and marine life — like pieces of extinct trilobites, ancestors to modern-day lobsters.
Close by, the Buttermilk Falls State Park is crammed with dozens of waterfalls that are flanked by scenic hiking trails. The foaming waterfall beckoned us in the summer heat and my brother and I, in search of our youthful recklessness, decided to dive off the little cliff into the natural pool below. Spurred on by dozens of college kids who were on their second or third dive, we took a deep breath, and whoosh! Our ears full of water and heart pumping with adrenalin, we came out slightly shaken but ready to go again!
A star is born
My love for little American towns began in my teens as I joined Archie and the gang on their high school shenanigans.
When I learnt that Ithaca was the birthplace of the very first sundae, images of the gang huddled around a sundae at Pop Tate’s came flooding back, and I knew I’d found my Riverdale.
As the story goes, in the year 1832, on a hot summer’s Sunday, Chester Platt, a pharmacy owner, served his local priest a scoop of vanilla ice cream trickled with cherry syrup, and added a cherry on top for effect. The priest was so impressed that he decided to call it a ‘Cherry Sunday’ for the day it was created on. Eventually, the spelling was changed to ‘Sundae’ when people objected to naming it after Sabbath day.
For a taste of Ithaca’s hallowed sundae, we headed to Purity Ice Creams, a local favourite since 1936. With its retro vibe, it wasn’t hard to imagine Betty and Veronica walking up and ordering just what I was having, the Chocolate Bittersweet, scoops of homemade ice cream with slivers of frozen chocolate.
Armed with our ice creams, we walked towards the Fuertes Observatory to uncover the latest scoop in the world of astronomy. Every Friday night, clear skies permitting, the Cornell Astronomical Society invites the public for a free picnic under the stars, to search the skies for planets, nebulae and galaxies.
As I dug my toes in the damp grass at sunset, I imagined Carl Sagan, Cornell’s celebrated astronomy professor and the narrator of the series Cosmos, sitting right here, looking up at the sky and uttering his famous words, “Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known.”