Boston Common

I've been spending the past few days visiting Boston, and I've been pleasantly surprised. Although it is still located on the wrong ocean, it has earned its right as one of America's great cities.

The morning was proving ominous, however my friend braved the clouds to meet up with me at South Station. Located downtown, and near Chinatown, this area of Boston is bleak and little more than lifeless. A few pubs and clubs line the streets, but they are mostly empty spare the occasional drunk party.

From there we had lunch at one of the ubiquitous sea food restaurants near the harbor. Sea breeze and salty air garnished crab crakes, a 2 lb lobster, and clam chowder, quickly drowned by a tasty, albeit bitter, Harpoon IPA. Nothing beats the simplicity of fresh seafood with loads of butter.

After lunch we decided to head up to the North End, the Italian District of Boston. All along the way we spotted cute cafes and stopped in a combination cafe/art exhibit to grab a Vietnamese coffee, water, and a little rest. Not too far a way a steady procession goes marching by, a tribute to Saint Anthony. The cobblestone streets take me back to the narrow streets of Capri for a moment, and the parade marches on. As we make our way into the heart of the district the crowd begins to thicken, and the booths appear from both sides. Fried dough and a collection of trinkets that would satisfy any gypsy. We exit near Madison Square Garden, and I try not to shudder when I think about Celtics fans. or Red Sox fans. or Patriots fans.

Making our way back into the city, I cannot help but to admire their infatuation with water features. In a city which the water with inveritably freeze over, I cannot understand how they would find so much space for the, but there you have it...from the zero edge pond next to the gargantuan christian science church to the many little fountains the children play in all over the city. How the maintain during the winter, I can only guess.

Eventually we make our way out to the suburbs of Boston, just south of Cambridge. Here it looks more like small-town USA, the East Coast you see in classic movies. I can't help but to be caught up in the neighborhood feel, as the playground is filled with an equal number of kids and adults lounging in the waning light of the afternoon. I grab an iced tea from Dunkin Doughnuts, discover they have jelly-filled munchinks, and believe myself to be the next Columbus...nay Einstein. Brilliant!

We wind up our day getting lost, skirting Newbury street, and back on the Metro toward Malden. My friend graciously offered to host me for the night, and her dad picks us up from the train station, along with her adorable niece.

Her home is a testament to Vietnamese-American culture. It has been a long time since I've been in such a home, for after tonight I must admit that my home is more like a house. Although it is not large, nor obnoxiously fancy, there is a quiet comfort here, a lived-in casualness. Utterly unpretentious, it is not the self-conscious American style, but filled with the unconditional love and heartbreak of family. The ceilings of the living room are lined with countless photos, a testament to each person's importance. A very large altar is set-up beyond the TV. The kitchen, perhaps most tellingly of all, is immaculate. The warm wood of the dining table calls you to sit down, and the plastic feel of the tile sticking to my feet reminds me of simpler times. I am served rice with fish and beef, along with squash soup. Impressively, the squash came from the garden just outside. Simple and filling.

I was just getting done with the dishes when my friend's niece came ambling by with a Monopoly play-set, perhaps not so innocently. I saw through her immediately, so we started to play. Unfortunately, we could only get through a few turns before she had to go home, but I hope that was enough to satisfy her. I know that as a kid I always wanted to play games, and the adults who played them were the best. I probably would have kicked her butt anyway.

The sleep over and the smell of a Vietnamese house is reminding me of my grandma, simple times, and the joys of child hood. I hope I can make my way out here again.