My Story in Lists|Places I've Been|Boston

The first time I went to Beantown, I was in my twenties, working for a family travel agency, Holiday Travel, who treated their employees like family. Every year, they would take all ten of their employees, for a long weekend to a big city destination.

We would leave on a Friday night flight, arrive in the early morning and hit the ground running soaking up as much of the area as we could and return, exhausted, but filled with souvenirs, happy memories and fun tales about the trip, on Sunday afternoon. There may have also been signed promises that we would not call in sick to work on Monday (just kidding about the last part).

From the moment we arrived in Boston, I fell in love with the city. It was, without a doubt, love, love, love at first sight. It had a big city feel with small town love about it. Most of my co-workers had opted for a morning tour of the city the day we arrived. I was afraid that sitting on a bus after a night flight would do nothing but put me into a deep sleep.

Since one of the aspects of the trip was to familarize ourselves with the destination, sleeping on the job would have defeated that purpose.  Instead I chose to roam around the city by myself on foot. It was the first time I explored such a great unknown alone like that. It helped that I had experiencing touring foreign places so as I stepped out of the lobby past the uniformed bellhops and bell captains, my gait had a bounce that disguised the nervous pit in my stomach.

Armed with nothing but a map and the Freedom Trail which was a series of arrows painted on the ground pointing the way to historical landmarks.  It was a cold, crisp fall morning making the walk even more exhilarating for this young California girl. Before I knew it, I made my way to Faneuil Hall, Boston Harbor, The Old North Church, The USS Constitution and past several hauntingly beautiful cemetaries . With each step I took, my confidence in myself and my love of Boston grew. Too soon it was time to head back to meet the rest of my team.

I arrived back at the Marriott Back Bay with some time to spare so I decided to warm my cold hands and fingers with a cup of hit coffee in the posh coffee lounge by the lobby. After ordering my coffee, I was shocked to learn that the cup of coffee would cost a whopping $1.85. Yes, back in 1982 almost two dollars for a cup of coffee made me want to faint. When the waiter came back to ask if I wanted more coffee, I didn't know what to say. I did, but not if refills weren't free. Who would have thought that almost thirty years later, I pay that price or more for a cup of coffee without even blinking an eye.

Fast forward to 2012 when I learned that the annual conference my company attended was going to be held in Boston, I crossed my fingers, toes and eyes hoping I would make the list of attendees. It didn't matter to me that the conference started less than a week after we would return from Italy. The call and love affair with Boston tugged at my heart.

As soon as I found out that I did indeed make the list, I told our marketing director that I wanted to extend my stay. I would stay two extra nights on my own so I could once again explore the city. It had been 30-years (gasp, I know!) since I walked the streets of Boston. What would be the likelihood that I would still love it as much as I did back then. Maybe Bostonians turned uncivil during this time. Or the city wasn't as small town as I remembered. Maybe it would be too dirty or crowded. Maybe I would be too tired and achy to enjoy it. I closed my ears to the ramblings of doubt that tried to talk me into forgoing my extended stay.

From the moment I arrived, I fell in love with the city all over again. Driving in from the airport, my face was pinned to the glass taking in the skyline, my heart skipping beats giving anything to be walking amongst the crowds instead of being cooped up in the car passing old interesting brick buildings and other landmarks.



Things were different, after all thirty years had passed since I was last there, but not enough to make this 50-something year old woman anymore cynical than I already was. It was more crowded, but then again, the 4th of July was literally two days away so it was no surprise that there were crowds. The walk along the Freedom Trail brought to surface memories I had long forgotten. There were sights I passed up this time around. For example, I did not board the Boston Tea Party ship or cross the river to board the USS Constitution.



There was a hop on, hop off city sightseeing bus that I took so I could take a tour of Fenway Park. I enjoyed Fenway Park more than this Angel/Dodger fan would care to admit. But give me the name of any true baseball fan and tell me they wouldn't get excited about being up close and personal with the Big Green Monster.

I didn't spoil myself with a cup of coffee at the Omni as there were several Starbucks and one other local coffee house within walking distance to the hotel. I loved starting the mornings while the air was still cool and the streets were somewhat empty, filled mainly with workers setting up their street venues. There is something magical about watching the city slowly come to life as moon and stars give way to the sun. That is something I didn't notice the first time I visited the city.

Three of the nicest aspect of the city remained the same...overall the city is cleanly. Bostonians obviously take pride in their city, keeping streets free of litter, windows were free of dirt and dust and building walls free of overt graffiti. One feels safe walking the main streets of the city. Second, most of the admission fees to the infamous landmarks are either free or nominal. After thirty years that in itself is amazing. And third, the people of Boston are about as friendly as can be.

On my last day in Beantown, I stopped to take a picture of a manhole cover with an identifying marker carved in the center. As I was framing the shot, a man in his thirties stopped beside me to look down at what I was going to immortalize with the snap of the shutter. I froze for a moment, preparing myself for the sarcastic remark I knew was coming.



Instead he smiled kindly at me as he told me that he walks by the manhole cover and other historical sights on a daily basis without much thought or any awe about the history he is passing by and that perhaps from now on, he shouldn't take this all for granted. I smiled kindly back at him.

I understood what he was saying. When I saw the Duomo in Florence with seemingly normal apartment and commercial buildings surrounding the majestic cathedral, I wondered who lived and worked in the other buildings and if they rightly appreciated the beauty of the cathedral or was it just part of the background. It would be sad if it were the latter. I'm sure there must be a mixture of both. Some for which it's just part of the background, others for which they look up each day as they leave and/or arrive at their building, look across the street and gasp in appreciation.

I wonder now, if the man who stopped to talk to me walked a bit slower the next day to his destination, taking in the sights he had whizzed past so many times before or if life got in the way of making it happen. For his sake, I hope he's taken the time to enjoy it. And if there are things I miss on a regular basis, then I hope someone will nudge me so I take notice.

Thank you, mom, for supporting my decisions to travel for the last five years. It's meant a lot to me. It would mean a lot to be able to continue to explore the world. I pray my traveling days aren't over. Not yet. I'm not ready yet.