Old State House
A beautiful example of Colonial period architecture, the Old State House was constructed in 1713, and was the site of the Boston Massacre.

 

The frigid salty air blowing in from the bay clawed at my lungs and invigorated my mind as I looked out over Boston Harbor. A contained yet proud skyline stands in defiance of the Atlantic, its water lapping at its base as boats sail by in the early morning light. Making my way across the Seaport Boulevard Bridge, I am astonished by the people of this city- people left and right, going about their morning routine- stopping to talk to me. And not just a “Heh, how ah yah?,” but a full blown conversation, with genuine inquiry and intrigue.

Morning light warms the cold air of Boston Harbor.

Eating my way through the North End, I came to realize that this is not an isolated phenomenon. Sitting in this local dive of a restaurant with a heaping portion of eggplant parmesan, I watched a non-stop flow of people coming in to interact with the patrons and the owners. Some didn’t even buy food, only visiting the counter for a quick chat and warm embrace. This trend continued outside with a pair of old gentlemen: “Been hea eighty-foh yeas” one of them shared, the two trading gentle insults with each other and laughing at their elderly states of mind. Stories of their past flowed, as did neighbors saying hello to them on their way by.

The Italian community is still strong in the North End.

This sense of tight-knit community and their blatant acceptance of me into it without any hesitation stuck with me as I wandered the streets and considered my own isolating suburban upbringing. Centuries old churches endured askew, railing against more modern street planning, while tenement buildings crowd the streets on all sides. British Colonial era structures beckon the grandeur and power of the crown in a new world, and people indulge in the Boston Commons like a Seurat painting come to life.

A couple shares an embrace in the the Boston Common.
A fire chief watches over his rig.
Bunker Hill
A fall canopy envelopes a street on Bunker Hill.

I kept feeling these experiences reeling against my preconceptions. So much of what I was seeing here related back to my journeys through New York City, and realizing that these were the notions I had had of NYC that never panned out. People care about each other here. Huge swaths of original neighborhoods make you feel like you’ve been taken back to the late 1890’s. You can walk through a park and not get mowed down by a never ending conveyor of cyclists and joggers.

Old North Church
An aerial view of the Old North Church reveals the congested street plan of the North End.

 

Old tenement buildings in the historic North End have been converted to luxury spaces.

 

Boston Harbor
Fishing boats return to Boston’s harbor from a day at sea.

As I was leaving the city days later, a final drive through the North End revealed our two older Bostonian friends were still on their corner watching life pass through. I rolled down the window and waved and shouted a good-bye, to which they yelled “You gotta come back!”

 

A full moon rises behind a church in the Back Bay.

 

I certainly will.