Ahhh... Boston

This morning I learned that, according to a new report, Boston is among top most expensive cities in the US. Not really a newsflash, but definitely add that to the pile of things we won’t miss if we move.

Here’s a little something to throw on the pile of things we will miss if we move:

Last night, Colin picked up Caleb and I from daycare/work and instead of heading home we decided to take a little walk. Government Center, the neighborhood in which I work, is wasteland of Soviet-inspired architecture and concrete, so we started out our walk with low expectations.

But this is Boston, so after a few minutes we found ourselves approaching the State House, just in time to duck in from the rain. And what a place to “duck” into! Where else can you take a post workday walk and end up walking the exquisite gold and marble halls of a building as old as our nation?

Once inside, Caleb made an enthusiastic beeline for the marble steps and, chasing him, we found ourselves smack in the middle of a session of state Congress. The dense fog of power hit us before we could even see the politicians roaming the halls, looking important, schmoozing and shaking hands. The hall is open to the public, but was full mostly of tall, tanned and graying pols oozing self-importance. Given that we were accompanied by a quite adorable baby, we were the target of some of this well honed schmoozing and were greeted with gratuitous smiles and chummy comments about Caleb like, “the reps are getting taller each year. Har har har!” I guess kissing babies is kind of part of the job description.

With the rain clearing and having had our fill of vicarious political excitation, we exited to the closest park, the Boston Commons, a 50 acre rolling expanse home to ponds, swan-shaped boats, ornate gardens and live performances, which also happens to be the oldest park in the country. There’s an old timey carousel for goodness sake, which gave Caleb a good old fashioned thrill.

Our stomachs grumbling, we walked, passed the balcony upon which the Declaration of Independence was first read and the and storied Faneuil Hall, and landed in…. Italy.

You can’t throw a rock in the Italian North End of Boston, without hitting a quaint Italian ristorante covered in vines and candles and filled with the din of Italian chatter and the aroma of fresh made sauce. Walking only a block, we passed probably a dozen enticing places, landed on a tiny trattoria with outdoor seating and proceeded to enjoy some of the freshest, most flavorful pasta this side of Naples. Dinner never lasts long with a toddler, so we soon found ourselves roaming the streets inevitably landing in one of the many Gelateria to get a cold treat for the rest of our warm walk to the train station to catch the 7:30 train back to Medford.

Keith, the ticket taker who jokes with Caleb and gives him old tickets to play with during our normal commute home, was working the later train and looked surprised to see us. “You’re coming home late today.” “Impromptu date night.” we replied as we descended to stairs to our short walk home.

File all of that under “what I’ll miss about Boston if we move.”