Adventures in Beantown

The virgin voyage of our packs was destination: Beantown. I had never been to Boston, and my sister Lindsay was starting graduate school there. Therefore, my mom was on hand to set her up in style in this uber-charming New England city. In an effort to ease my mother's trepidation about our impending journey, Sarah met the parents. Well, a parent. So we had a little holiday from Manhattan and hopped on the Megabus. A steal at $15 there, and $1 return.

Sarah was apprehensive about the bus situation, as she suffers from motion sickness. But I arrived with Psi-Bands in hand and I am glad to report they were mostly a success! Our Megabus was a double-decker, complete with howling baby on top level (we were on bottom), bathroom, and wireless internet! I must say, I don't think either of us have ever enjoyed such a luxurious bus trip.

We were both completely charmed by Boston. How quaint, quiet, and clean! We spent 5 or 6 hours meandering along the Freedom Trail, the tourist must-do. Because after all, how better to experience a city than walking it? And Boston is oh-so-walkable. I did not appreciate how the Old Corner Bookstore has now disappeared (publisher of noted authors such as Dickens, Longfellow, Emerson, Hawthorne...). But I did find the trail, or red brick road, leading around the city immensely helpful. If only we had one of those running through South America.

(Our new Chacos! chosen footwear of a Jew and an Ex-Mo for adventuring. Time to break these puppies in.)

(Warning: first of many tombstone pictures yet to come. There were some awesome old graveyards along the Freedom Trail.)

(Beacon Hill. Charming incarnate.)
(I loved the old gothic engravings on all the tombstones. Puritanic background frowned upon much artwork in life, so tombstones were one of the only places where art was allowed to flourish.)

(Statue to commemorate Irish Potato Famine)

My favorite area was the North End, Little Italy. As we passed Paul Revere's house, I suddenly had a small heart attack as I realized my iPhone was not in my pocket. Now allow me to set this up for you: I have an obscene love of my iPhone. It's slightly ridiculous that a material object should hold such an exalted place in my heart. But it was my first large solo purchase, it was an exit from the family phone plan, it has my entire life in it, and it's just so pretty. So Sarah immediately sent a text message to the phone saying that I would gladly purchase a new iPhone for whomever had found my old phone in exchange for the return of it. We returned to the park where I believed the phone had slipped out of my pocket as I flopped onto the grass. We called my mom and lo and behold, someone had contacted her. My phone and I were reunited at Mike's Pastry Shop and we took it as a sign that God had led us to this heavenly, vintage, Italian bakery overflowing with sugary goodness and we therefore had to buy a cannoli. And it was the best cannoli either of us had ever tasted. We had a three-way with Paul Revere's ghost, eating that cannoli outside of his house, in a peaceful, cobblestoned square. We also had a sugar cream cookie and a cupcake. A little much? Yes. Especially when we climbed 300 stairs to the top of the Bunker Hill memorial.


(*BING BING BING* "You've won! Forgiveness! For 10 Sins!" I really wish you could hear my voice right now. )

(How Edward Gorey)

By the time we made it back to Lindsay's sickeningly charming abode we were ready for family dinner, cheesecake, and a movie. Cue: fire alarm. Unfortunately none of the firemen were of the steamy kind.

The next day was rainy and we spent most of it in a cafe in the North End. Great neighborhood feeling. Lots of people collected to watch the soccer game. Steaming mocha and another cannoli for Sarah. Reading. Cozy. On to a bit of a pub crawl as Boston has more than its fair share of Irish pubs. We met up with an old high school buddy of mine, boarded our bus at 10:30, and arrived back in NYC at 2:30.

Good times. On to the next.

Cheers, Laura