My morning walk with Noodle has become a welcome foray into the beauty of the South End. Tucked behind the Brahmin grandeur and shiny financial district, lies this mixed community of townhomes, and topsy-turvy brick sidewalks (for which the people of Boston held sit-down protests in the 1940's to keep).
*In this photo a discarded box of Chinese cigarettes upon ancient brick.
Nora munched on banana puffs while I sipped on a giant mug of steaming hot "almond joy" this morning at Francesca's. Silken waves of soy milk folded into two shots of espresso and chocolate and coconut syrup. Can you say, mmmm? Next to us sat two men discussing the Bachman victory at the straw poll. One seemed well-versed on her vitriol towards gays and quoted her most outlandish statements. I recalled that her Ames tent had a petting zoo. We all agreed that miniature horses and sheep earned her a pass from idiocy.
This neighborhood is the most genuinely mixed environment I've ever experienced. Both Daniel and I frequently comment upon this fact as we amble through the major South End thoroughfares of Tremont, Shawmut, and Washington. Within the span of a half mile you can see: a hunched over Chinese woman pulling along her grocery cart that overflows with bright pink bags from the Asian grocer; a young couple in Patagnoia rain wear pushing their baby in a Quinny (an $800 stroller), sipping their coffees and browsing the advertisements in the real estate office window; two fashionable men leaning against a stone wall kissing passionately; a homeless man lamenting in a heavy Dominican accent the aforementioned couple's public display of affection; a West-Indian grandma lavishing Nora with nearly indecipherable compliments; a Muslim family with the wife and daughters covered in elegant head scarves and long-sleeved shirts (despite the 85 degree weather); a Brahmin couple walking their dainty dogs and refusing all eye contact; an aged African-American couple sitting upon their stoop with an air-conditioner buzzing and dripping in the nearby window...and all in the shadows of what once was the largest cathedral in New England (built in 1775).
We left our diverse enclave yesterday and headed towards the exploding brain matter across the Longfellow Bridge in Cambridge. Tucked into a curve of the Charles River are the impressive campuses of MIT and Harvard. Both our minds and lips tripped upon the hopes of Nora one day attending such caliber of schools. Not too much pressure...but a little.
She rubbed John Harvard's bronzen toes (which, apparently, happens so often, that his toes glisten in polished golden hues).
She fingered the ivy draping the library walls (the predictable "family hand shot"...that you knew was coming).
She sat underneath the gate that beckons with "Enter to Grow in Wisdom." (We actually pushed her back and forth, back and forth...capitalizing on the phrase.)
She doesn't HAVE to attend Harvard. We will be happy with Berkeley or Stanford or Brown. We'll let her tickle their ivy eventually, too, and one day...a long time from now...we'll visit her college town and take her out for a cup of hot cocoa.
Speaking of cocoa. Word on the street is that L.A. Burdick's chocolate is the best in New England. And being one that must test out such outlandish claims, we ventured into the Cambridge chocolaterie and ordered small cups of hot cocoa. As Nora amused herself in the mirror, I savored every viscous drop of my single-source, Madagascar, dark hot chocolate.
Claim was justified. The best hot chocolate I've ever had (and gratuitous "edible toes" shot).
There were quiet moments along abandoned streets with vibrant literary wall art.
We also had a moment to remember that once there were only two travelers.
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