Princetonian Hospitality

Source: https://admission.princeton.edu/blogs/princetonian-hospitality Parent: https://admission.princeton.edu/community

February 15, 2026

Claire Beeli '28

I'm Claire, a prospective English major and Creative Writing minor. I grew up in Long Beach, California, and I've loved my time as a Princeton student so far. Outside of class, I'm a Junior Editor for the Nassau Weekly and a prose reader for the Nassau Literary Review. I write and edit all kinds of literature, from journalistic pieces to subversive poetry and serialized short stories. When I'm not in a seminar or a club meeting, I'm usually ... Read more

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The American northeast isn’t known for its warm hospitality. In popular cultural consciousness—at least, popular cultural consciousness according to someone from Southern California—it is austere, reserved, and a little difficult to break into. When I think of the East Coast, I imagine WASP-y families, serious intellectuals, and formal dinners with pot roasts. Or something like that.

I know this view is the product of incredible bias, but I can’t help but feel as though I’m not the only one with this perception. I had never been to the south before coming to Princeton, either, and I still pictured it as hospitable and warm—in other words, this isn’t just my lack of familiarity with the East Coast. It’s a real perception. I worry, then, that prospective students could share it, and let it affect their choice of whether to attend Princeton.

Princeton, however, is a completely different landscape. I found the serious intellectuals and ivy-coated buildings I expected, but those same people and communities also happened to be warm, generous hosts. I took a class on Bob Dylan last year with Professor Sean Wilentz, and at the end of the semester, he had our class over to his home—a seriously charming Victorian a five-minute walk from campus—for dinner. We met his family, discussed the class, and enjoyed the food. I was thousands of miles from home, but in that moment, I felt as though a homey, welcoming place for me had popped up where I hadn’t expected it. It was lovely.

In the fall, I took a gender studies course with visiting Professor Fawzia Afzal-Khan. She was an excellent professor, but she was also a bright, enthusiastic person. She’d greet us with hugs and compliments. She brought snacks to our three-hour seminars and asked after my classmates when they were ill. At the end of the semester, she hosted us at her apartment for a holiday party—she’d bought and made food, invited faculty friends for us to meet, and even brought Christmas crackers for us to enjoy.

Even the smallest Princeton moments betray the real friendliness and hospitality that permeate life here. My favorite vendor at the campus farmer’s market remembers my name and order. My TA for a Shakespeare course brought brownies on the last day of class, and the baristas at the Tiger Tea Room, a cafe inside Firestone Library, are famously gregarious. Some days, it feels as though the whole campus is conspiring to make you feel like you belong. It’s a wonderful feeling.