At large in Boston
Having successfully attained the hostel, I dropped off my bag and headed out for dinner. Thai food. Really, really good Thai food, with mango and chicken and onions and peppers and the perfect spices, and a glass of bubble tea. I ... may possibly have made embarrassing noises while eating.
At the hostel, I met up with a couple of women heading out for a stroll, so I joined them in wandering Boylston/Newberry St, from near the convention center all the way up to the edge of Boston Commons. One of the women was a tourist, much like myself, who'd been visiting family in the area. The other actually lives in Boston, is originally from St Lucia, and describes herself as a babysitter - though it sounded like au pair is probably closer. I noticed as we passed that the library had signs up for an interesting looking exhibit, which I decided bore looking into before my flight. And I gave myself a blister on the bottom of my foot, for I am a super genius. Then I climbed back up to my room and went to bed. Before 9. I would feel truly lame about that, except that the other three girls in the room? Already settling down for the night by the time I came in. Sunday is for recovery.
Come morning, I had breakfast with two of the girls from my room and made plans with one of them to head for the Harvard Square area, along with a guy she knew from the NY hostel. It was a lot of fun - I took replacement photos for the ones of my first Boston visit now lost to Logan's xray machine and just tooled around with two interesting people. And I had to explain this photo:
Apparently, it is not immediately obvious to the nonfannish mind why one would want a picture of Harkness Commons. (Do you see how I love you, rebekah_3?)
We had a warm-up at the Greenhouse cafe - good coffee, great brownies - and then they decided to head to a different part of Boston, and I said my goodbyes. For there were many bookstores nearby, and I still had to track down the contender for world's best hot chocolate.
After browsing books - Yay, Curious George! - I went in search of said chocolate. The instructions had been really clear; I found the shop with no trouble at all. I have to admit - the place was pretty awesome. I prefer our hot chocolate, but the two drinks are almost different categories. It wasn't quite comparing apples and oranges, more like oranges and tangerines. Their hot chocolate is very good, but more of a hot cocoa, the kind of rich, almost powdery drink that reminds you of the origins of chocolate, echoes of Mayan bitterness below modern vanilla and sweetness. Ours is sweeter - even the dark chocolate version is whipped cream topped - and is closer to the liquid essence of childhood sled rides than any dark treasure from the tropics.
I decided to head to the Freedom Trail, wander a bit, and grab an early dinner at Quincy market. I took my time, knowing that my foot would keep me from doing the entire trail. I wandered the gravestones at the Granary Cemetary, looking less at the monuments and more at the personal losses. There's one that has a verse, telling how the man had been buried by friends in the absence of parents, and how they wished they could have called him back.
I paid the fee to see the South Church meeting hall, wandering their museum, impressed as much by its continued function as a lecture hall and early struggles with free speech as by its position within Revolutionary history. I bought tourist tea for some friends back home, then wandered on to Faneuil Hall and, finally, Quincy Market. Yay! More seafood while near an ocean! I miss seafood, but it's generally not worth even trying any this far inland. And then I had a glass of lychee nata de coco from a Japanese stand. Because I also miss ready access to a variety of different cuisines. I picked up some cheesy souvenirs (Rynka! Red Sox! Lemme know when you're free next week!) and had an interesting discussion about sushi and the regional variation in foods while buying socks.
Then I went to MIT. Which. Yes. Not a well planned excursion. Their welcome/info center is in a new location not yet updated on the signs. But I bought a couple book at the MIT Press Bookstore, so it wasn't a total loss.
Back at the hostel, I made conversation with a guy from Hokkaido for awhile - who was embarrassingly amazed that I knew that Hokkaido is in the north. He was the second person that day to encourage me to visit Japan. When conversation lulled, I decided to go up and grab my book... and bumped into lovelokest and izzybeth at the door. They were on their way out to find an Irish Pub and kindly invited me to tag along.
We got alittle lost took a sightseeing detour through the Back Bay on our way. And aside from being accosted by a Crazy Man, it was a pleasant walk. The pub was a bit funny - the Irish music was canned, and it switched to Queen and assorted 80s/90s music during our stay. But I for one had a great time being fannish and slightly giggly.
On our way back, we may have gotten lost again saw Fenway.
The last morning dawned cold and drizzly. I did a load of laundry, to make packing easier and to avoid going outside. But since I'd woken up Far Too Early once again and laundry only takes so long, I eventually checked out, stowed my bag in a locker, and went down to the library.
The library was So COOL. (I am such a huge geek. Neither of these statements renders the other any less true.) I was looking for the Crooks, Rogues and Women less than Virtuous: Books in the Streets of the Eighteenth Century exhibit. I initially found John Adams: Unbound (hee!). I may be slightly fascinated with John Adams now. He donated nearly 3000 books to the library of a boys school when he died, which have since been relocated to the Boston public library. The display case of shelves, a great curving case full of books, was just stunning. Because I have old books, sure. But to see that many, all together, belonging to one person from that time period? Wow. All his money was in books. Somehow, it was more impressive than the library at Monticello. Also? He scribbled in his books - the curators had hung gold ribbons in books containing his marginalia, and there must have been more books with ribbons than without. And there was a display of his notes from the trial of the soldiers of the Boston Massacre, including Paul Revere's map of the square which the exhibit described as the "first known forensic map." ♥
Okay, then I figured out that the other display really was up the massive, sweeping marble staircase, which really was open to the public - it was an intimidating staircase, okay? In the Jeanne d'Arc collection room on the third floor. The exhibit showed the growth of fiction/literature that arose from the explosion of literacy during that time period. It was all very, very cool, and I took a large number of photos of books. Including this one, from the Highwaymen and Rogues display.
Hi, where is this fic?
(There was another book about John Sheppard, by Daniel Defoe: The History of the remarkable life of John Sheppard. But the frontispiece was boring.)
And in conclusion, the main thing I learned in Boston is that I really need to get into SGA. Um.
My flight out of Boston was delayed, but only by about an hour, which meant I had time for a bowl of chowder at the Legal Seafoods in the airport and read slightly more of my book than I'd expected.
And I returned, safe, sound, and ready to start putting my real life on track again.