Single Girl in a Big City Part 2

Otherwise known as With You I Breathe...


Yesterday, as I wrote about in Single Girl in a Big City Part 1, I took the train into Boston with my friend Chris, whom I have known since we went to college together at Florida State.  Chris and I's friendship, along with previous visits to Massachusetts are chronicled in Just Can't Wait..., which was written just after I booked my flight for what has become an annual event.  I love the feeling I get when we get to the train station and Chris goes off to work and I am left to make my way through the city for a day.  It's such a great feeling of... independence.  Which is apropo, for Boston.  These are a few observations that I made as I explored the city yesterday.

Boston is a city of coffee drinkers.  Everyone had their hands wrapped around a steaming cup of their favorite caffeinated beverage.  The first Starbucks I tried to enter yesterday morning had a line snaked around the inside of the store.  That would never do.  I intended to sit... and write... so after opening the door and quickly surveying the scene I closed it and briskly walked away.  I knew there would be another Starbucks.  And there was.  Not even five minutes later I spied a woman crossing the street holding that familiar vessel.  I crossed from the direction she had come, and there, rising in front of me, was my little slice of corporate coffeehouse heaven.

Boston is a green city.  For a cosmopolitan area, Boston has quite a number of green spaces.  There is the large, beautiful Public Garden, the wide green walking lane that is the Commonwealth Avenue Mall, and most churches have gardens as part of their grounds.  I even passed a little herb garden that was outside a cafe, no doubt to use in their dishes.  I took my hand and rubbed a bit of rosemary between my fingers, bringing them up to my face and inhaling.  Ahhhhhh... I love the scent of fresh rosemary!  There are many, many other green spaces, but these are just a few that I came upon in yesterday's journey.  And the trees!  Trees are everywhere!  Most of them are golden due to the season, with leaves fluttering gently to the street below.  (There is a reason leaf-peepers flock to New England in the fall!)

Boston is a city of runners.  Boston is home to what is arguably the holy grail of marathons.  This said, as I embarked on my walk around the Back Bay, I could not believe the number of runners I came upon.  It was ten o'clock in the morning on a Friday!  What do these people do?  Are they furloughed on Fridays?  Chris explained that perhaps they were unemployed and that may be so, but they had all the right gear, and excellent form.  They ran in style.  All.  Over.  Boston.  Or at least, the Back Bay.  I was not, running, though... I was walking.  Gladly.  Which brings me to my next transition.

Boston is a city for walking.  Boston is incredibly accessible on foot.  Yesterday morning I took myself on a self-guided walking tour of the Back Bay in Boston, as offered by my trusty Frommer's Guide.  I thoroughly explored the Public Garden, then crossed a footbridge and visited the bandshell where the Boston Pops perform (the Hatch Shell), headed back to the swanky shops of Newbury Street, observing the most lovely old churches along the way, up the greenway of  Commonwealth Avenue, and ended up at the Tortoise and Hare sculptures in Copley Square, which is actually the site of the end of the Boston Marathon.  It was a great little walk that took me about two hours to complete.  Two lovely hours in crisp New England air amidst a most beautiful cityscape.  But my stomach was rumbling... so I knew that it was time for lunch.

Boston is a city for foodies.  Boston, like any big city, has its fair share of restaurants of every price range.  When I visited two years ago, I went to Brasserie Jo, a French restaurant, for lunch.  I had mussels mariniere with a crusty baguette, pomme frites, and a glass of white wine.  I replicated this impressive lunch yesterday as I sat at the bar and chatted with Charlie, the bartender who has been there for thirty-five years.  As we were talking about his snowbird home in south Florida he looked at me and said, I feel like we've had this conversation before.  

I was here at this time two years ago.

I knew it!  I never forget a face.

Lunch was delicious, just as I knew it would be.  And a great break for my feet.  But it was time to press on...

Boston is a city for art lovers. From the Museum of Fine Arts, to the sculptures and statues peppered throughout the city, to the magnificent historical architecture, Boston can't help but cultivate a great love for art in its visitors.  I viewed the likenesses of Paul Revere, George Washington, General Patton, several preachers, a former conductor of the Boston Pops, and a haunting tribute to nine firefighters who gave their lives together one night in the line of duty when a structure collapsed on top of them.  There was a bronzed hat and protective gear draped over one side of the memorial.  It was very touching.  On a lighter note, I came upon a statue while in the Public Garden that commemorated the introduction of ether into the medical community as a way of operating on patients without pain.  Of all the things I thought I would see yesterday, a statue honoring ether wasn't one of them.  That said, it was beautiful! 

I arrived at the Museum of Fine Arts in the afternoon, after my lunch at Brasserie Jo.  I first walked through their special exhibition, Degas and the Nude, where I viewed many, many pictures of full, nude women (that had largely been sketched in brothels) getting out of the bathtub, reading books, getting dressed.  Degas was obsessed with the naked female form.  I have to say, the descriptions of how the art came to be were compelling.  Just before 2, I headed back upstairs for the tour of the Americas collection.  The oldest piece of art dated back to 100 A.D., and the tour continued up to the American paintings of the 1800s.  The man depicted in the portrait at the top of this post is Paul Revere, as painted by John Singeton Copley.  (Copley, incidentally, was a self-taught artist and married to a Tory, forced to return to England not long after this portrait was completed, and was asked to paint a portrait of the Prince of Wales!  The things one learns while on a tour...)  After the tour finished, I made my way to the Japanese Buddhist Temple Room.  I remembered it from the last time I was at the MFA, and after an hour and a half of art overload, I was in need of of a bit of decompression time.  A break from the excitement, and stimulation of the senses that the day had offered.  I spent about ten minutes in the Temple Room.  It was just what my spirit required.

After my rest, I got up, walked through a bit more of the museum, stopped by the museum shop on the way out to pick up a couple of postcards, and returned to South Station for the journey home with Chris.  I told her about my day, and included this little vignette.  As I was trying to find the Temple Room, I passed by a modern art exhibit, which has neon light installations that had been shaped into words and phrases.  One was white and said, With you I breathe.  I think it's a beautiful, sweet sentiment.

Chris looked at me... More likely, with you I suffocate.  Nice.  That's Chris's humor.  She is a bit of a crotchety thirthysomething woman. 

Well... coffee is calling.  We're leaving in a little bit for my favorite beach activity, searching for sea glass.  I can't wait! 

Addendum:  The author was just about finished with her post this morning when she accidentally deleted the whole thing and had to start from scratch.  That's devotion.  Or obsession... :-)