Well, I’m in Boston, y’all. About to head home, but I’ve been here for about 5 days.
Which is wicked cool, by the way.
I’m here exploring a possible job opportunity, and it turns out that I’m also prompting some serious headwork about this whole job hunting thing. There are about a dozen different thoughts running through my head right now, and they range from “wow…could I live in Boston?” to “Jeez, moving to a new place and starting all over is going to be hard” to “I miss my dog” to “Let’s go Red Sox.” After several months of trying to scenario plan the next phase of my life, it’s nice to be on the ground in a new place, and though it’s profoundly unsettling, I think that’s good. Comfort is a powerful thing, and it can keep you from moving forward when you really need to. So by default, shaking things up a little is a good thing. Or so I tell myself when I start to freak out, as I’m doing now thinking about all the great things I have in Northwest Arkansas that I would leave behind if I moved.
Anyway, enough of that, let’s talk Boston. It has been a LONG time since I’ve been here, and to be honest, it doesn’t feel familiar. Red Sox gear everywhere makes me happy, as does the crispy fall air. Everyone seems to be in a good mood (see previous mentions of lovely fall weather and winning baseball teams), and – bonus of being in a city – I scored some gourmet treats for the dogs in my life.
On Monday we played tourist and went on a Duck Tour; you know, those amphibious boats that tool around the city and then trundle into the Charles River? Our guide was a lot of fun, quick with a cheesy joke and the appropriate linguistic intonations (welcome to Ahlington Street). Our boat was full of Brits, which of course led to a little smack talk about the Revolution. It rained a little, but cleared up right about the time we entered the river.
Our next destination was the Sam Adams Brewery tour, which made me realize something important – while I love the Sam Adams BRAND, the actual beer isn’t my thing. Go figure. My other great insight, gleaned as we were listening to our bearded and backward-Sox-ballcap-wearing tour guide, was this; Beer people are just as snooty about their beer as wine people are about their wine. The difference is beer people do it in jeans and work shirts, the wine people in suits.
And then it was home to the Red Sox on TV. We’ll just gloss over the result of that game and celebrate the ultimately victory the following night.
And yesterday, I did the city up pretty well. Morning took me to Faneuil Hall and Quincy Market, which are much, much smaller than I remember from my youth.
I spent some time on thank you cards, and thanks to the clerk at the store who sold me 33 cent stamps, had to trek to find a post office, and then headed down to the seaport for lunch with a friend and a tour of the Boston Convention center, which is, um, well…ginormous. Then a little visit to the Tea Party museum, near the wharf where pissed off Bostonians dumped a bunch of tea in the harbor to protest high taxes. I did not partake of the “reenactment” but here’s a funny article that gives you the flavor of it.
Next I trundled out via the Red Line to Hahvahd Square, mostly just because I wanted to see it. It was sufficiently idyllic in that college-campus way, and then we journeyed to the North End to gorge on yummy Italian. We brought home the famous cannolis (is that the right plural of cannoli?) from Mike’s Pastry.
I’m glad to be going home, but I heart you, Boston. And GO SOX!