Watching my breath dissipate in front of me was a sure sign of how cold it actually was. It was a Sunday, and despite former visits to Downtown Boston with my team a few days earlier, I would consider this to have been my most raw and freshest experience with the city itself, simply due to one simple fact...
That I was travelling on my own... again. There seems to be just an unexplainable appeal to my soul to be out exploring the frontiers of a foreign land accountable solely to myself; allowing for lots of time to fully absorb and reflect on the sights and sounds of the land, to get obtain a memory in its rawest form.
This isolation, however, was in equal part a matter of circumstance and choice, but the means to the end didn't really matter, as I was already in front of Boston Common, the town's presumably miniature of Central Park.
Alighting from the shuttle at the Boston Common due to a train service shutage, the park held a lot less life than the image of it on the sunny day before. It is somewhat astonishing how the park factors into the standard American lifestyle. Often seen as a green mental oasis amidst the monotony of the urban life, the park often served as the perfect venue for a day out in the sun, and also as an open-spaced, make-shift stadium for performances on special occasions. Like the festivities of the Pride Parade Concert that we witnessed the night before amongst the throngs of lesbians dancing in celebration around us.
Pride and Joy
Navigating through the streets and alley ways, I bypassed many cultural rich buildings to find myself back in the exact cross junction I was a few days ago.
The surrounding architecture was that of a fascinating mix of contemporary and heritage. The immediate surroundings that spawned from the crossing with mostly 2 - 3 storey heritage buildings of the uniform red and brown brick and mortar type. Yet, the distant backdrop was that of reflective skyscrapers that gave off a glaring reflection as the setting sun smiled on it.
Man in Black
In fact, this architectural heritage littered the streets of Boston as I made my way on foot through the almost-easily-nagivatable streets; often bypassing buildings that had that extra watch-tower or simply a clock tower as the pinnacle of it. Generally a town with a sparse population of skyscrapers, the central area of Boston, or Boston proper was not exactly a very big town and was possible to be traversed mostly by foot; something I personally didn't mind and found quite enjoyable, in a way.
Home to the Freedom Trail, a red-bricked pathway that winded through the city to link all the historical sights together, Boston was supposedly one of the most, if not THE most conservative city in the US, and perhaps her architecture is a reflection of her reluctance to embrace change. Following the red-bricked road, I ended up in a historical graveyard, which was supposedly where Benjamin Franklin buried his parents.
But the real reason for following the Freedom Trail was to get to Quincy Market and Faneuil Hall, a district beaming with the sound and fury of life over the weekends. Traditionally a market in the yester-years, Quincy Market was now a modern hyper-extended food court that kept in the spirit of selling some of Boston's most famous delicacies, such as Clam Chowder, Lobster and Ice Cream.
Hardly one that was able to resist the allure of fine food, I succumbed to my gastronomical desires and settled in with a Lobster Salad and Clam Chowder set. Conditioned to start with the soup first, I sipped a mouthful of the creamy Clam Chowder and was instantaneously convinced why it was one of the city's signature dish. Extremely creamy in texture, yet not at all overly viscous, the Clam Chowder was rich and smooth and actually had a hearty portion of clam.
The Lobster Salad on the other hand, was hardly as mind-blowing. Mixed between two sides of a loaf of bread, the Lobster Salad was generally fresh, but didn't pack the oomph of a dish that was heralded to be famous. Perhaps it is due to the fact that it was not exactly THE Lobster that was supposed to be famous, but early traces of it showed a lot of further investigation was needed between its fabled reputation.
The walls of Faneuil Hall that surrounded Quincy Market were equally modernized, carrying popular American brands like American Eagle and Gap, the walls of Faneuil Hall were lined with a huge array of modern clothes and gift stores that gave my wallet quite an exercise.
Not Cool Enough for the Weather
However, it was the culture that lay within these walls that added the most magic to the place. As if as a tribute to the cultural heritage of the place, people flocked to Quincy Market despite its modernized setting, in order to simply be a part of the crowd of the many street performances showcased throughout the day, or simply as a gathering point to see and be seen over an Al Fresco meal or a drink at one of the many pubs. The horse-drawn carriages were simply icing on the cultural cake.
As I made my way through the streets to the sounds of the closing shutters of the shops on an early (*ahem* 6pm) Sunday evening, I secretly smiled to myself with the fulfilling reminder of what it was like to spend some quality time with myself. Perhaps "The Big 5" was right in calling me an introvert afterall.
The Closest I could find to My Heritage
3 comments:
right about now, I wish I can leave everything behind.
In merely a matter of days, you can. There is something about going into a new land that is a primer for a new start. Take it as an opportunity to put things in perspective and start afresh.
Are u sure u're dressed warm enough? I looked at all the photos, and it came across as pretty chilly with the way ppl are wrapping up themselves in bundles of cloth.
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