Sorry NY but I ♥ Boston

Only partially the truth. I feel that New York and Boston are two absolutely different cities which are destined to be loved in two absolutely different ways.

New York is literally a giant and filled with motion; sites, sounds, people (equally crazy and sane) and streets to walk. Boston made me stop and catch my breath. I found the parks and the harbor calling me and asking me to sit down for a while.

dog park in Boston MA

As we trudged along the Freedom Trail in the sweltering sun, the city bent down and made me stop to look around. At the end of a long day, a dog park full of green grass and frolicking dogs welcomed me to enjoy as the air cooled and the dogs played around me. The next best thing when you aren’t able to own a dog is watching a dog play with a new friend. It made me feel like it was a part of my life.

Our first night in Boston may have had something to do with my being utterly at ease and at home in this little city. When we arrived at our hostel, I immediately called my friend Thomas who I had met in Italy but he had since returned home. Thomas picked us up and took us to a favorite local bar with over 100 brews on tap and just the spicy kick I needed. We sat down as our friendly waitress offered advice about some of her favorite beers so that we could make a decision and we ordered up some plates of giant proportions.

That night was the fourth game in the Stanley Cup series, a home team advantage as we watched the Bruins crush the Canucks 8-1. Having a chance to experience a city cheer on their beloved hockey team is an excellent way to get a bit of insight into the lives of the locals.

After the game was over and the beers were finished we took a stroll down Mass Ave and through the MIT campus. As we wandered and I saw the familiar signs of student life and learned a bit about this particular campus, I couldn’t help but feeling my body relax as if I was finally home; finally back to what I had known for the first 21 years of my life.

Italian cities in Little Italy Boston

A few weeks ago, I was watching the movie Juno for the first time in years and a line that I have heard a million times before caught my attention. Near the end of the movie, when Juno begins to feel out of control and afraid that her life is unraveling she goes home but stops outside the door to pick a newly budded flower.

I never realize how much I like being home until I’ve been somewhere really different for a while.

Walking around in the warm evening breeze, along the Charles River, in a city that I have never seen. I completely understood what Juno was feeling in that moment.