The streets of Boston were obviously not designed by a zealot of Roman order.
…In fact, I’m certain it was a drunken vicar, standing atop some hillside pointing his finger – between sips of his Guinness – to where he thought things ought to go .
Nine days in Bean Town and I still can’t find my way back to the inn without help from my cellphone. A tardy lane change will send you on a sightseeing tour around the entire city – to never again find the original route you intended to take.
….and God have pity on you if you find yourself heading into one of those dreadful tunnels!
Much of old Boston still exists at the base of the new skyline. Their sturdy brick walls ground the vulgarity of glass and seemingly frame-less architecture standing beside them.
I frequently sit along the many promenades bordering the harbor, and I particularly like to so near the Aquarium. The city graciously provides lots of teak chairs and benches for comfortable seating. A great way to whittle down an entire day. Watching the boats pass by, I ponder what the harbor might might have looked like a hundred years ago, when the schooners carried more than sightseers taking selfies.
A few blocks inland is the Boston Public Market – a must for anyone’s list of must see’s. Vendors, selling everything from ice cream to salami, inhabit the main building, while outside, a sprawling Farmer’s Market thrives under a canopy of tents. You find handcrafted cheeses, cured meat, local honey, seafood, or rabbit, all displayed with loving care from the vendors. The variety is bewildering. And the diversity of people shopping is as profuse as the products being sold.
Boston is a modern, multicultural, city, indeed…But its tradition remains solid in the brick and grout.