OK, where to begin...
The Morning.
A short drive from Woburn, Massachusetts into Boston through the early Sunday morning traffic, was pleasant, also a huge change from the normal uproar of rush hour antics. Our choice to park on Atlantic Avenue of several paid parking areas was abundant and sufficiently accommodated our journey on foot. We had arrived to the harbor, three of us, to explore the great city of Boston. From there our goal was to listen to some jazz and walk the beaches of Spectacle Island. It took some time to find our departing ferry across the harbor and included a cup of espresso and a few beers, some misdirection, some redirection, and a beautiful boat ride in the cool morning weather to arrive on Spectacle Island.
By noon we had set foot on the island and found the Berklee jazz group playing for the small entourage of spectators. The beaches here are rocky and littered with age old broken glass, bricks, and metals that had been worn smooth, round, fogged and rusted by the tossing waves for half of a century. The island is considered by many, the most beautiful, disregarding the garbage heap history of the island and a decade of burning trash. The jazz group was exquisite with 8 or 10 members sharing improvisational sessions handed off from one to another. What a better place than here to enjoy a cup of chowder, smooth jazz, a great hike, boat ride, and to inaugurate the remainder of our journey. A hand of spades on a ferry ride back launched us in to the great cultural and historical exchange that is the fabric of this wonderful city.
The Afternoon.
The markets of Faneuil Hall provided a visage of shops, bars, and eateries that proclaim some of the greatest experiences and most sought after cuisine in the North East. There is a barrage of stores ranging from designer apparel to specialty services to crafted leathers with the sole purpose of catering to your desires. It all started in 1742 as a marketplace gifted to the city, and has since hosted some of the greatest historical events of both the city and our nation. In 1764, a mere 2 decades after opening its doors, the protests of the Sugar Act were hosted, rejecting unrepresented taxation. Starting in the 1800's and through the 1950's it was expanded and used as a center of business for the city until later if fell into disrepair. The city was commissioning a demolition plan until a group of locals banded together in the 70's to save Faneuil Hall, after which an urban renewal project brought new life to the marketplace.
We perused the markets and attempted to visit one of the acclaimed and famous Cheers. Lacking seats and a long waiting list swayed our interest, instead we visited the Union Oyster House and enjoyed a couple of well crafted brewed beverages. One of my companions tried the famed Lobster Roll and noted the savory flavors and fine dining. It is housed in a pre Revolution building and has been serving Boston since 1826. The decor is well maintained and boasts miles of spectacular wood trim much older than any of its visitors, a wonderful attraction near the Freedom Trail.
We found ourselves in Little Italy sampling more of the local fare and admiring the abundance of basement businesses. It just seems capricious to go downstairs from the street into a deli, bar, or restaurant. As it turns out, some of the most unique and fantastic places of business are below ground. Winding later into Sunday afternoon there were families playing at the park; a surplus of oaks, maples, and other northern foliage encompass a tract of land around them. People had taken to the streets as vendors of all sorts prepare for the evening's attractions.
The Evening.
We again found the freedom trail somewhere near Congress Street and continued following the renown red brick line as far as the USS Constitution. Along the way we passed the site of the Boston Massacre, the Paul Revere House, and the Old North Church. Chronicles of our nation's history taught to me years ago flooded my memory. A great respect for the liberal pioneers who died to ensure generations of people would enjoy the same freedoms they so desperately sought after. The Old North Church still hangs lanterns to commemorate the ride of Paul Revere while an old stone mosaic immortalizes the site of the massacre that started a revolution.
Although the naval yard was still open, the setting sun made it clear that the attraction site was void of tourists and any sort of guides to allow us passage on to Old Ironsides. Two centuries of sunsets and black water beyond its great masts lost no glory of its might and beauty. The flag was lowered with a bugle calling off its deck, and a cannon fired to end the daily retreat call of this military installation. One of the oldest warships afloat was put to rest for another evening's slumber.
On our way back to Hanover Street we stopped into Papagayos for a traditional margarita. For a zesty treat I had a sip of my friend's Habanero Watermelon margarita. It was an entirely new experience, not lacking in adventure or disappointment. Briefly, we started again, strolling Hanover Street following the Procession of the Madonna and the endless music and people. We followed The Lady of Help of Sciacca through the streets until the troupe came to a halt and the Flight of the Angel began. This is the culmination of the Fisherman's Feast, and missing the opportunity would have been disappointing. Although my Italian is much lacking I could feel the inspiration of the gathering as the horn sounded and the Angel silenced the crowd. She offered thanks and blessings to the Madonna. This is an age old gathering dating back to the 1600's in Sciacca, brought to our shores with the mass of immigrants who found their new home here in the early 1900's. Scores of people erupted in applause and cheers as the ceremony reached its finale.
Our evening was dwindling also. We were adrift among the alleys enjoying a final lager from the streets of Boston and settled on the harbor docks to admire the city lights from across the water. The financial district was looming behind us, whispering of the many wonders below. This was a beautiful end to a sensational day.