The Everywhereist

The Old Statehouse; from our last trip to Boston in November.

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Most of you, regardless of whether you live in the states, have probably heard about the bombings that occurred at the Boston Marathon today, which killed three people, and injured more than a hundred others, some of them critically. Those who were there describe a horrific scene of smoke and screaming and severed limbs.

I had been out to lunch – literally – when it happened. I was catching up with a friend. She filled me in on all the happenings in her life and her family, and she let me devote waay too much of our conversation to all sorts of things that were weighing on me. It was a good talk, and a reminder that I need to spend more time with the people I love.

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(Note: I just got back from South Africa yesterday. My brain has absolutely ZERO idea what time it is. I contemplated blogging last night, but I was deliriously tired, and acting slightly more crazy than normal. At one point, I may have fallen over my husband in the kitchen because I wanted to bite his arm. When he didn’t acquiesce, I started whining like a four-year-old.

So he let me bite his arm. 

I’m still kind of out of it, but I’m pleased to say that the attempts at spousal cannibalism have become far more infrequent since that episode. I’m going to try and get my bearings over the next few days. In the meantime, I’ll be posting about a few trips that we had prior to South Africa, that I haven’t gotten around to telling you about. Enjoy.)

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Like any good alchemist, I spend a lot of time at home trying to turn lead into gold. Or, more precisely, flour, sugar, butter, eggs, and a bit of vanilla into cake.

Same thing, basically.

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I love Boston’s North End.

I’ve been there countless times on my own, while Rand was busy with work and meetings. But on this last trip to Boston, he had some free time to head there with me.

I may have done a little happy dance, because there is nothing greater than being able to show my husband around a place that I’ve explored without him.

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The lobster roll at Neptune Oyster.

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I’m always up for a bit of decadence. You don’t get hips like mine from being restrained.

But there’s the everyday sort of decadence (which involves a bit of cake with breakfast, and a bit with lunch, and hell, some with dinner, too) and then there’s the once-every-few-months-or-my-heart-will-suffer kind of decadence. And Neptune Oyster in Boston’s North End falls into the latter category.

After a meal there, I looked at my husband and declared myself in need of a shower and a cigarette. And I don’t even smoke.

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I have to tell you about an important travel realization that I’ve come to: in order to have fun, you have to abandon the idea that you are too good for some things.

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Hey Sarah.

How’s it going? I know, I know – you’re probably still mad at me about that Halloween costume from a few years ago, right? But come on. It was a really good costume, and I’m cursed with not really looking like anyone famous, so this was my one chance, you know? Plus, everyone dressed up as you that year.

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On a foggy day in Boston, I found myself unsure of what to do, so like any reasonable person, I decided to ask the good people of Twitter.

For the record, I do not regularly crowd source my decisions. But since my current travel plans are largely dictated by “wherever I end up after I get hopelessly lost on the tram” it didn’t seem like I could do substantially worse by asking a group of faceless individuals who I’ve never met for advice.

I mean, really, what could go wrong?

Nevermind. Don’t answer that. I followed everyone’s recommendation, which was to head to the ICA – The Institute for Contemporary Art in Boston - and I’m glad I did. The ICA is not to be missed.

Even if, you know, I almost missed it. Like, literally. I almost walked right by the ICA because it was impossible to see the building in the fog, even though it’s rather large and reminiscent of something you’d see on Hoth.

I never forgave that snow beast for messing up Luke's pretty face.

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As a lover of bargains, history, and little old men in uniforms, I can safely say that one of my favorite things about travel is partaking in the many free national park tours our country has to offer. America’s National Park Service seems to exclusively hire flirty male septuagenarians as guides, and I am completely okay with that. (Interestingly, docents at museums in the U.S. are almost exclusively spunky single women in their golden years. I smell the makings of a senior citizen rom-com staring Susan Sarandon and Ed Asner. YOU’RE WELCOME, HOLLYWOOD.)

My love for gray-haired men in uniform is so strong that it sincerely saddens me to tell you that the NPS guided tour of Freedom Trail in Boston is not really worth the time. At least, not from a historical perspective. It was educational and informative, though, when it came to pastries.

And while I am sure you’d rather I discuss baked goods first, you will have to wait, as I did, and suffer through all the boring stuff. I know. Life is difficult.

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