I love Boston. Growing up a California girl, Boston seemed to have all the perfect components for me: a rich history, a wealth of culture, literary lights, old buildings, and big city elements. There was a romanticism about it that called to me. I always pictured myself living there, until the reality of weather made me rethink my plan. An east coast summer and the resultant mugginess and heat, and the cold, brutal winters made me realize what a west coast wimp I really was. So I just visited. I fantasized about settling in Boston, or in Concord. Absorbing US history out the door on a daily basis. Looking at places where literary lights like Alcott, Emerson, Thoreau, Poe and Hawthorne lived and wrote. Of course, California had literary lights, too. London. Twain. Stevenson. Steinbeck. Stegner. And a different sort of US history than the east coast. The east coast is steeped in European history- here in California, we have Spanish history. Mexican history. Chinese history. And our weather has it all over the east coast, sorry to say.
Several years ago, my daughter was back east for a summer program. My son and his grandmother, my friend and former mother-in-law, decided to travel back east together for the gallery showing. My ex-mother-in-law arranged the flight- a red-eye, landing in Boston a little before 6:00 a.m. I am one of those rare individuals (in many ways) who can sleep anywhere. Just give me a warm, quiet spot, and I'm gone. So I had the window seat, got settled, strapped on my seat belt over my blankie and was gone. Even before take-off. My son and ex-mother-in-law, well, not so much. The end result was that I woke up perky, and they got no sleep at all. I knew where the Starbucks was, near our hotel on Beacon Hill, so we headed there to fuel up. NOT Dunkin' Doughnuts. For whatever reason, the entire Eastern Seaboard is enamored of Dunkin' Doughnuts coffee. My only question is: Why? I prefer Peet's to Starbucks, but I wasn't sure there was one of those in Boston. Starbucks is a perfectly acceptable substitute.
I had a fabulous day planned. Concord-Lexington, stand on the replica of the bridge where the "shot heard round the world" was fired. Walk around the grounds near the bridge. Plymouth, to walk through the Mayflower replica, and look at Plymouth Rock, and most important, to eat a lobster roll. Plimoth Plantation, which is a "living history" museum showing how the pilgrims and the Indians actually lived, complete with "authentic" little houses and wigwams to walk through, and actors in costume. The Lizzie Borden house in Fall River, then onward to Providence, RI and RISD where my daughter was busy being talented. I was looking forward to the nice walk in Concord, and Plimoth Plantation, after the long sleep. Er, flight.
There is a huge difference in the energy level of someone who slept well, then drank espresso, and a couple of people who didn't really sleep at all. I have a pretty high energy level, anyway, and I guess I can be pretty obnoxious, according to them. They, on the other hand, were beat. The humidity and heat was the final straw. My son fell asleep in the car and didn't really wake up until we got to the B & B in Providence. Both of them then retired to the room to take naps until dinner- I went off to take pictures and hang out with my daughter.
It's funny. The whole time I was there on that trip, I kept thinking to myself that my nebulous dream man, the man I would ultimately end up with, would somehow have some connection to Boston and the surrounding area- either living there or growing up there. I was just so positive, the intuition was that strong.
Several years ago, my daughter was back east for a summer program. My son and his grandmother, my friend and former mother-in-law, decided to travel back east together for the gallery showing. My ex-mother-in-law arranged the flight- a red-eye, landing in Boston a little before 6:00 a.m. I am one of those rare individuals (in many ways) who can sleep anywhere. Just give me a warm, quiet spot, and I'm gone. So I had the window seat, got settled, strapped on my seat belt over my blankie and was gone. Even before take-off. My son and ex-mother-in-law, well, not so much. The end result was that I woke up perky, and they got no sleep at all. I knew where the Starbucks was, near our hotel on Beacon Hill, so we headed there to fuel up. NOT Dunkin' Doughnuts. For whatever reason, the entire Eastern Seaboard is enamored of Dunkin' Doughnuts coffee. My only question is: Why? I prefer Peet's to Starbucks, but I wasn't sure there was one of those in Boston. Starbucks is a perfectly acceptable substitute.
I had a fabulous day planned. Concord-Lexington, stand on the replica of the bridge where the "shot heard round the world" was fired. Walk around the grounds near the bridge. Plymouth, to walk through the Mayflower replica, and look at Plymouth Rock, and most important, to eat a lobster roll. Plimoth Plantation, which is a "living history" museum showing how the pilgrims and the Indians actually lived, complete with "authentic" little houses and wigwams to walk through, and actors in costume. The Lizzie Borden house in Fall River, then onward to Providence, RI and RISD where my daughter was busy being talented. I was looking forward to the nice walk in Concord, and Plimoth Plantation, after the long sleep. Er, flight.
There is a huge difference in the energy level of someone who slept well, then drank espresso, and a couple of people who didn't really sleep at all. I have a pretty high energy level, anyway, and I guess I can be pretty obnoxious, according to them. They, on the other hand, were beat. The humidity and heat was the final straw. My son fell asleep in the car and didn't really wake up until we got to the B & B in Providence. Both of them then retired to the room to take naps until dinner- I went off to take pictures and hang out with my daughter.
It's funny. The whole time I was there on that trip, I kept thinking to myself that my nebulous dream man, the man I would ultimately end up with, would somehow have some connection to Boston and the surrounding area- either living there or growing up there. I was just so positive, the intuition was that strong.
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