6/19/11
// Arrive in Boston Airport around midnight, take the T to South Station, to transfer to another bus to accommodations until tomorrows first couchsurfing experience. When asking the bus driver for transfer tips, another traveler offers to show me how to get to my crossstreets due to our apparent proximity. I declined. Little did I know that it was only 4 blocks away. Strangely, if I had been in Europe I would have accepted. Perhaps it is the blissful naivety that is eliminated by being on familiar turf. There is no disconnect from reality and possible consequences. This is why people end up settling in foreign countries- so that they can always live and act without restraint of overthought. Deboarding the bus, I navigate through a coin-pocket sized Chinatown and reach the Hotel Milner, apparently the World's first hotel chain. However, since only three are presently in existence it seems that the quickie-sized, pay-your-drugdealer rooms never caught on with the general public (nor did the delectable breakfast of microwaved eggs and powdered orange juice).
// Ran along newly acquired Rose Kennedy Greenway (thanks to the city bankrupting Big Dig project ) and along the Harbor path. Walked along the Freedom Trail and onto the USS Constitution. Strolled through North End Before heading to the Green Monster, had cocktails and apps at Eastern Standard. Snagged closer seats than purchased thanks to apathetic usher. Cruised down to the Beehive for live music by Jewel want-to-be, not the best night for audio entertainment. Atmosphere still enjoyable.
// Ran through Beacon Hill on the Charles River bike path. Streched along the docks as I watched children in sailing school do technique drills on shore, I could easily spot the wet-rag of the group. Passed over the Mass Ave Bridge, was in dying need of water but constantly disappointed by inoperative water fountains. Whenever this occurs, my mind begins processing like a homeless person's (I imagine): efficiently, sly and lacking any notions of societal rules. Eventually (after deciding an unpronounced plan that would have possibly lead to trauma), I found one in order. Little did I know, that due to the unusual overlooking of actual couchsurfer's brownstone location, it would be my sole thirst-quencher for the next hour. Unlike the houses in the suburbs of Dallas, which have lawn and SUV identifiers, Boston's brownstones sole distinctions are their steps. Thus, I found myself running up and down cobblestone streets confusing myself more (and at times finding myself in wrong building knocking on stranger's door).
// Watched the swans in the Common's while having a fresh picnic with items from Haymarket, then strolled down Newbury Street through boutiques and endless art galleries. Including Copley Society of Art, which was showing the most interesting still-life exhibition. Before my evening trip aboard a ferry to Provincetown, Cape Cod, I toured the ICA, which was conveniently located next to the port. Present exhibit was too cool for school (as is the space), housing a piece where one could listen to a 5-piece band via individual speakers for each instruments. The gem of the exhibition was Xaviera Simmons, who combined a fitting combination of visual + audio for her Thunder Road Project.
// Arrive in Boston Airport around midnight, take the T to South Station, to transfer to another bus to accommodations until tomorrows first couchsurfing experience. When asking the bus driver for transfer tips, another traveler offers to show me how to get to my crossstreets due to our apparent proximity. I declined. Little did I know that it was only 4 blocks away. Strangely, if I had been in Europe I would have accepted. Perhaps it is the blissful naivety that is eliminated by being on familiar turf. There is no disconnect from reality and possible consequences. This is why people end up settling in foreign countries- so that they can always live and act without restraint of overthought. Deboarding the bus, I navigate through a coin-pocket sized Chinatown and reach the Hotel Milner, apparently the World's first hotel chain. However, since only three are presently in existence it seems that the quickie-sized, pay-your-drugdealer rooms never caught on with the general public (nor did the delectable breakfast of microwaved eggs and powdered orange juice).
// Ran along newly acquired Rose Kennedy Greenway (thanks to the city bankrupting Big Dig project ) and along the Harbor path. Walked along the Freedom Trail and onto the USS Constitution. Strolled through North End Before heading to the Green Monster, had cocktails and apps at Eastern Standard. Snagged closer seats than purchased thanks to apathetic usher. Cruised down to the Beehive for live music by Jewel want-to-be, not the best night for audio entertainment. Atmosphere still enjoyable.
// Ran through Beacon Hill on the Charles River bike path. Streched along the docks as I watched children in sailing school do technique drills on shore, I could easily spot the wet-rag of the group. Passed over the Mass Ave Bridge, was in dying need of water but constantly disappointed by inoperative water fountains. Whenever this occurs, my mind begins processing like a homeless person's (I imagine): efficiently, sly and lacking any notions of societal rules. Eventually (after deciding an unpronounced plan that would have possibly lead to trauma), I found one in order. Little did I know, that due to the unusual overlooking of actual couchsurfer's brownstone location, it would be my sole thirst-quencher for the next hour. Unlike the houses in the suburbs of Dallas, which have lawn and SUV identifiers, Boston's brownstones sole distinctions are their steps. Thus, I found myself running up and down cobblestone streets confusing myself more (and at times finding myself in wrong building knocking on stranger's door).
// Watched the swans in the Common's while having a fresh picnic with items from Haymarket, then strolled down Newbury Street through boutiques and endless art galleries. Including Copley Society of Art, which was showing the most interesting still-life exhibition. Before my evening trip aboard a ferry to Provincetown, Cape Cod, I toured the ICA, which was conveniently located next to the port. Present exhibit was too cool for school (as is the space), housing a piece where one could listen to a 5-piece band via individual speakers for each instruments. The gem of the exhibition was Xaviera Simmons, who combined a fitting combination of visual + audio for her Thunder Road Project.
