by Julianna Squicciarini
This morning, we rose early. We quickly packed our things, ate our complimentary breakfast, and hopped into the car for our five-hour drive to Boston.
We drove through Connecticut and Rhode Island, stopping in Mystic along the way (very cute town, TOTALLY wish we had more time to enjoy!).
Finally, Boston was upon us. It’s a marvelous mix of big city and historic village, featuring streets lined with shops and restaurants, like a small town, built in the crumbling or stained brick of yesteryear. And there were many streets like that. Streets and streets of it. Which makes it feel like a big city – because it is.
In the center of everything is a large park, and there was some kind of rally going on today, of which we were not a part. We ate lunch there, after finding (baruch HaShem) parking for the Accent.
We walked to North End, which feels like little Italy. Almost every single restaurant is Italian, there was a delicious gelateria, and we even heard some men speaking to each other in Italian. Eating my amaretto gelato with a small plastic spoon, walking the brick streets of Boston, has become one of my favorite times on this trip (if not at the absolute top).
Boston, unbeknownst to me prior to arriving here, has a sobering Holocaust memorial at the intersection of Congress and Hanover. It’s six, tall, square glass cylinders, each pane of which is covered with the identification numbers of those who died in the Holocaust. Since about 6,000,000 Jews died, each pillar must contain about a million numbers, which is mind-blowing. This, paired with quotes from survivors, etched into the glass, made for a stunning exhibit.
We finished the day here in our hotel, which is definitely a step up from the previous one. Although we had planned to have dinner at a cool place in Boston, we stretched the ever-flexible rubber band of our schedule and stayed here instead, enjoying light fare at the restaurant downstairs.
I think we’re all tired from the five hours of driving and three hours of walking. As I type, the room is quiet, Christine flipping through the pictures she’s taken, Peter watching some kind of YouTube video on his phone as gentle music wafts out of its tiny speakers. Feet up, pajamas on…it’s time for a cozy night in.