Posted by: yachtcrewsing | September 25, 2011

Boston for the Weekend

Entering Boston on a bus is like hurtling through the interior of a pinball machine. Narrow ramps curve, spiral, rise above and duck below intertwining roadways. The city itself vibrates with a palpable kinetic energy as people ping-pong around the array of shops and buildings. The urban skyline contains and defines the theme of this pinball machine; the manicured parks offer places of seclusion to restore energy before hurtling off to other areas.

My trip to Boston was partially necessitated by lack of winter clothes in my Caribbean-oriented closet, partially to use this ready-made excuse to explore the city and partially to have a quiet, relaxing weekend away from the frenetic chaos of shipyard work. Accounting for these goals, it has thus far been highly successful.

Here I feel the need to briefly defend my partially materialistic ambitions for this weekend; I am not a shopaholic. Many, many females in the yachting profession are retail-inclined by proxy of the fact that they make relatively large incomes and have no necessary expenses. This relative wealth leaves two common options: either to spend their income solely on investments and property acquisition (as does my current chief stewardess) or, to spend it frivolously on clothes and ‘good times’ (as did my previous chief stewardess). I try to maintain a balance between the two, airing more on the side of saving, but also enjoying the current life I lead without being excessively concerned about money.

So here I am, enjoying a late lunch at Paparazzi Bistro on the famed shopping stretch Newberry Street. I spent the morning walking down the exquisite avenue, lined with old-fashioned brick houses with partially rounded facades, each containing wares from designer clothes to chocolatiers to art galleries. This street is not overly pretentious or imposing; it conveys a sense of charming warmth and character. This homeliness in excessive space exemplifies the city- each area gives the illusion of being a small town without retracting from the array of activities and culture that are afforded by cities.


The streets of Boston come alive on a Saturday night- jazz music snakes out of small bars and onto the pavement where impeccably dressed socialites elegantly stalk through the crowds of people; ice cream parlours host everyone from heavily tattooed men sporting shaved heads and leather jackets to young children mesmerized by the selection of frozen delights. Boston is a place of diversity, a place of contrast. Lights flash and sounds overwhelm the senses. Yes- just like a pinball machine…






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