Boston

This is a trip-to-the-city day for me. No time for a walk at home, so I must do what I can in Boston.

Such a great day! I planned weeks ago to come here for a meeting and then head to Cambridge for some research. It’s my luck that the weather’s nice. So where to start walking?
South Station, of course, where the bus from home deposits me. My meeting’s on Tremont Street. Join the crowd crossing Atlantic Ave., and then keep going down Summer Street, which becomes Winter Street (really!). Bob and weave through the crowd. Suddenly there’s the Common and Tremont Street, after five or so minutes of almost-aerobic exercise. My meeting site is another three minutes down Tremont.

A short walk, but it’s sometimes subway material. If I were still limping from last February’s knee injury, I’d take the subway and be grateful. Not today, though.

Meeting’s over. The Common is in full sunshine, autumn leaves still looking pleasant: that’s my lunch stop. Then I break down and take the Red Line to Cambridge, only because I haven’t the time to walk the three miles. From the subway stop, my destination is five brisk minutes away. Everyone in Cambridge walks briskly, so there’s less need than in Boston to weave through the crowd.

Round trip, that’ll give me maybe twenty-five minutes of walking for the day. Nothing dramatic. I’m pleased, though. Spending those 25 minutes in a subway car on a day like this would no fun at all.

I try to manage my infrequent trips to Boston so as to catch good weather, since so much of the city is a treat for pedestrians like me. Yesterday was Memorial Day, perfectly clear, with a high temp of around 70. Perhaps ten days a year have conditions so perfect for pounding the pavement as a camera-toting tourist.

“That’s not a trail,” you’re sniffing. My reply: “Is, too.” I haven’t been to every part of the city, but as someone who Will Not Drive In Boston, I assure you it’s an urban walker’s dream.

Yesterday’s trip was inspired by two things. The memory of the atrocity of the bombings at the Boston Marathon last month is still fresh. I wanted to make my own quiet, private statement that no terrorist is going to bomb me into being scared of the city. Prompted in part by gratitude for the overwhelming support for the city expressed by people from everywhere since the bombings, and no doubt partly to say that the city is very much still open to tourism, the Museum of Fine Arts offered three days of free admission over the holiday weekend. That clinched it. I plunked down $22 to Boston Express for a bus ride to South Station.

Ironically, when I got to the Museum, I found a line outside about 200 yards long of people waiting to get in. That’s a great testament to both to the Museum and to the city’s low fear-factor. I wasn’t in town to wait in line, though, so I moved on.

Yesterday was Memorial Day, and Boston honored Massachusetts’ war dead with a simple but moving display of over 30,000 American flags on Boston Common. That’s one flag f Continue reading →