Boston

 

Day Nine

Have you ever been to Boston in the fall?  Well, now I can say I have. 

Dave led the devotional this morning before we left the hotel parking lot.  The Atlantic was mere feet from our bus and the sun was trying to show itself from behind the heavy gray clouds on the horizon.  I’m sad we can’t stay at this resort for several more days.

We started with Quincy Market in the heart of Boston this morning.  We walked between the shops lining the pedestrian only streets, many of which were closed.  I did find a shop below street level that interested me. It’s signage stated that it had the hottest sauces available.  I told the nice man behind the counter that I needed something that would make my son and my son-in-law cry.  He reached under the counter and handed me a very small bottle, rattled off a list of ingredients the likes of which I’ve never heard before and finished with, “It's stronger than military grade.” Whatever that means.  It sounded impressive though, so I plunked down $20.00 for each vial and went on my way rejoicing. I don’t think either of the men I am gifting these to reads my blog but I guess this will test that theory as well. 

We enjoyed a riverboat tour of Boston Harbor while we ate lovely boxed lunches.  This was followed with a bus tour through the heart of the city guided by Naomi, a tour guide whose love for all things Boston made her the perfect person for her job.  And what a beautiful city it is!  Spectacular window boxes and planters lined the streets and dotted the fronts of restaurants, their brilliant perfusion of flowers flourishing in the cool wet climate. Although twentieth in population among the largest US cities it must surely rank close to the top when it comes to its aesthetic and historical appeal.  The many public gardens and parks strategically placed between office buildings, retail shops, churches, and government edifices provide beautiful places to relax in the middle of the city’s hustle and bustle.

Besides the parks I was most captivated by the amazing architecture of the old, well-maintained structures that make up much of Boston Commons.  Naomi brought our history lessons from grade school to life as we passed by buildings that had been inhabited by the heroes of our country’s beginnings.  We passed the house Paul Revere built in 1680 as we walked the Freedom Trail toward the Old North Church, where a statue of Revere graced yet another courtyard filled with trees and flowering plants.  The church, established in 1723, is the oldest church building in Boston.   

Two replicas of boats carrying merchandise like the tea of Boston Harbor fame were anchored along our route.  I was amazed at how small they were, little more than the size of a speed boat.  With sails but obviously no back-up motor, imagining vessels of this size crossing the Atlanta loaded with goods for the Americas made my knees weak.  The people who left everything and everyone they knew to settle in a strange land were men and women of great courage not unlike those who travel in space today. Or maybe they were escaping hardships so severe that risking life and limb was a gamble worth taking.  Either way, we owe them a debt of gratitude that none of us can fully understand.

The Boston Marathon is happening this weekend.  It’s been eight years since the tragic bombing at the finish line in 2013. We passed a small park dedicated to the memory of one of the victims, a child only eight-years-old. His grieving parents raised millions of dollars to create the park and ensure their beloved child will not be forgotten. 

We passed a monument honoring George Thorndike Angell, who died the year my father was born, in 1909.  He was the first person to actively promote the humane treatment of animals, beginning with the placement of water troughs throughout the city for the many horses used for commerce and transport.

The gold dome of the Massachusetts State House was clearly visible as we passed through Beacon Hill. The dome is actually covered with legit gold, albeit an extremely thin coating. I found the nearby row houses much more impressive, reeking of history and still inhabited by the uber-wealthy and well-connected. Looking up the side streets it was easy to imagine passengers riding in horse-drawn carriages and gas street lights being lit at twilight; the cars parked there now looked out of place.   

The John Hancock Tower is a glass building, 62 stories high, the tallest in New England, and with no colonial era personality whatsoever. It holds the dubious distinction of having prominent structural flaws, hopefully corrected by now.  Every one of its 10,000 windows had to be replaced since the originals were prone to fall, potentially wreaking havoc on anything in their path. The mirrored windows provided perfect reflections of the surrounding buildings and of the bus as we drove by.  Naomi told us that the shape of the building provides a path for the wind, sending stiff breezes down to the ground where one would least expect them, sheltered as it is in the middle of the city. Looking out I saw that, indeed, the decorative trees were whipping around like a mini-gale was loose around the corner.  While the building made quite a statement with its glass and mirrors, it didn’t hold a candle to the surrounding brick and stone structures seasoned with the history of our great country.  I think those buildings will still be here long after the modern high-rises are dust.  Or at least I hope so.

Surprisingly, over fifteen percent of Boston is built on a landfill. They did it well though; one would never know.  The very long tunnels that tend to be filled with traffic at a dead stop were my least favorite thing about Boston. Give me a mountaintop any day. 

Our beautiful hotel had a hot buffet for us this evening.  I waddled off to bed far too tired to use the luxurious swimming pool, warm and inviting though it was, situated indoors and surrounded on all sides by three stories of balconies, ours included.