One of the best things about traveling is discovering a city’s character, dissecting its culture and absorbing its energy. Sometimes I don’t mix well with a city. Other times I fall into a life-long love. Last weekend I visited Boston and it was one of those enchanting cities that instantly captivated me, causing me to fall head over heels in love at first sight.
My friend Laurin, her husband Curtis and I were all first time visitors to Beantown. And what an interesting time to visit. As you surely know, barely a week before two bombs exploded at the finish line of the Boston marathon that eventually lead to a police chase, the lock down of the entire city and a neighborhood shootout. Needless to say, everyone was on high alert. But that wasn’t about to stop a town like Boston. The city was as proud as ever and, as displayed all around, strong as ever. Spirits were high and it was wonderful to experience everyone banding together.
Boston boasts itself as one of the oldest cities in the country and the heart of the American Revolution. Founded in 1630, history is literally everywhere :: the Boston Massacre, the Boston Tea Party, the battle of Bunker Hill, it’s all here–and I mean, still here. Beyond the history, Boston is a mecca for sports (baseball, basketball and hockey were all in town during our stay) so one of the main focuses of our trip was a Red Sox game at Fenway. This was a dream come true for me; a bucket list item checked off. (Stay tuned for more on our day at Fenway!)
While you may not think food when you think Boston, I’ll let you in on a secret :: Boston is one hell of a food town! I enlisted my friend, Vijay, a Boston resident who runs the recipe website NoshOn.It, to help me navigate the restaurants. He gave me a list of places and also recommended food blogger Jen from Tiny Urban Kitchen for her Boston restaurant recommendations. We used these guides like bibles throughout the weekend. (Thanks again to both of you!)
And what would a trip be without opera? Of course I had to see the Boston Lyric Opera‘s production of The Flying Dutchman. The opera is surprisingly small for a big city, comparable to what we have in Utah. I had a minor hiccup on the way there when I asked the cab driver to take me to the “Boston Opera House” and realized once I arrived that the opera was actually playing at Shubert Theater. Oops. (Don’t worry, I still arrived on time!)
Between all the history lessons, eating and drinking, I found myself stopping and staring at the beauty that is Boston. There were flowers on trees. Sailboats sailing in the water. People everywhere at all times wearing Boston-themed shirts, whether sports memorabilia or supporting Boston Strong. Four-hundred year old churches sat next to modern skyscrapers, both mesmerizing in their own right. Boston was one of those places that the first step I took on its cobble-stoned streets I knew that it had me; that I would forever be drawn here, aching to come back to its energy, its passion and its soul.