It's cold in Boston. I'm not talking, "Brr. It's chilly outside." I'm referring to the type of cold that leave skin completely moisture-free and fingers numb well beyond one's initial entry into an overly heated building. I braved the weather, however, to venture to the local Hay Market and partake in the completely overwhelming engagement of all senses therein.
Saturday Hay Market is about as vintage Boston as one can get: packs of people puffing out their breath in between gloved fingers as they ask edgy vendors for 5 of their best apples. Fifty cents and a bit of shared human spirit later, the fruit buyer moves on to the next stand- eager to get the best deal possible while avoiding the near constant chiding of vendors that have little tolerance for indecision and/or hesitation.
My neighborhood is quite close to the Hay Market- a brief walk filled with Italian bakeries, cafes and old men enjoying a bit of sidewalk conversation. Many of my dear readers have asked for a description of my new apartment, and the Hay Market seemed like the natural lead to the myriad reasons why I am in love with a simple studio apartment in the lovely, Italian neighborhood in which I now reside.
A few days ago, I was stopped by a Ben Franklin impersonator who delights tourists in the city's old marketplace that happens to be a part of my commute to and from work. (No, I'm not making this up). It was quite cold that evening, and I was better equipped for the inclement weather than Ben (short pants and tights are not adequate for this bone-chilling weather). He noted that I was walking quite quickly and that he would be much warmer if he were able to put on such speed (again, those pilgrim shoes aren't great for a rapid stride). While concurrently laughing and thinking how odd it was that I was speaking to a colonist, it hit me: I am so glad to be in the bizarre, esoteric Commonwealth of Massachusetts.
My apartment, itself, is also a relic of the historic and proud city in which it dwells. Two walls of exposed brick and wood beaming frame the small space that I call home. I've only 10 television channels, but about 35 delicious Italian restaurants nearby. I live a block and a half from Boston Harbor and can solicit at least 3 different wine stores within a 2 block radius.
I may need the warmth the wine provides my insides, because MAN it's cold here.
1 comment:
What a great description of the North End! The first time I went to the market my mom and I asked for 5 tomatoes. We felt fine giving the guy $1. However, received 5 POUNDS of tomatoes.
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