I'll probably have one more Boston round-up of thoughts, maybe a video, maybe some photos, before I leave town for keeps (all coming up far too fast for my liking, but all to the good I think)... but after today's excessively-lovely start, I thought I'd make a quick note about how happy my current neighborhood has been making me, and how it's given me a truly good year in Boston.
The street where I live, during this year's "Maybe we'll just have a foot of snow for some reason" dump. NB: this is an extremely lovely neighborhood to be snowed into!
This morning, I walked up to Tres Gatos. It's my favorite neighborhood spot, and possibly my favorite restaurant in Boston these days: a Spanish small-plates spot (think tapas, though a bit more substantial - Vera in Chicago does a similar thing in more upscale/romantic atmosphere) that doubles as a record/book store. It's a delightful spot: delicious, flavorful food, incredibly friendly/happy staff, and an atmosphere that feels welcoming and unassuming. Today was Record Store Day, and the staff were handing out coffee and pastries to people waiting in line outside, who were variously chatting with each other about their kids, the records they were hoping to find, and the neighborhood at large.
The cumulative humanity in a place like this has the potential to make me really happy and hopeful, you guys!
All of this felt like what's made JP special to me. There's a sense of tight-knit community, not in an excluding way, but in that people want to know each other's names, want to connect, assume they'll keep seeing each other around. I noticed this early on, when the staff at the bakery around the corner learned my name by like my third visit (and still greet me familiarly if we pass on the street). It's a deliberately lo-fi neighborhood, generally fighting the incursion of chains, keeping prices relatively low for the Boston area, and committed to principles of inclusion and diversity. It has that magical balance you sometimes find of a neighborhood in a city that retains an urban ambition and forward-thinking energy while also feeling like a small town, the kind of place where (yes) on your walk home from Record Store Day you might see a Little League parade including two flatbed trucks providing live music, one from a Dixieland ensemble, and one from a Latinx trio.
The tail end of a blocks-long parade. BEST THING: these kids' teams weren't, as my childhood ones were, all branded as major league teams. No! It's the old-school model where you're playing for a local business, so you had a JP Licks team, you had a team for a city council member, you had a hardware store team... It was superb.
I've grown fond enough of the neighborhood that, if the money worked and the commute wasn't nightmarish (90 minutes, which I feel gross to report did not feel insane by Bostonian crosstown standards), I would probably have stuck around for one more year while I finished my dissertation. But while I'll be on my way very soon, it feels really good to know that I found my home neighborhood, the place I'll revisit when I'm back in town, and the source of much of my lingering affection for Boston.
My snowy back porch, a deeply lovely place (when not covered in snow).
I've known for a decent bit that my surroundings have a pretty big effect on me; neighborhoods that feel like JP, or my old Chicago stomping grounds of Lincoln Square or Andersonville, with a sense of community openness, caring residents, and a blend of shops/cafes/bars/homes lending a sense of stability and warmth to my life. And it took me a while to find that here - most of the neighborhoods I lived in were student-heavy, the kind of places where undergrads would dump trash/clothing/TVs on the street because they knew they'd be gone in a year, and where the neighborhood vibe was very much "I don't need to learn your name." They had their bright spots, obviously, but it was a hard time for me in ways that I sort-of knew but didn't feel able to do anything about. After four years in Boston, I'm glad I finally found a spot that energized me, that felt like home. Thanks, JP, you swell old thing.
This isn't even one of JP's better murals (and obviously not a great shot of it), but this neighborhood's mural game is strong and great. I will miss it a lot! Who saw THAT coming!
Tres Gatos in its day-to-day "people will eat food in the front, and if they want records they can go to the BACK" incarnation.
Tres Gatos, Record Store Day. Friendly staff, tons of great finds, extremely friendly folk, and just about everything that makes me happy. Hooray for THINGS!
This weekend, in between some thoroughly killer social outings, I clicked into high gear on my packing, and as my apartment stands about 90% packed-up, it's time to look ahead to the next chapter. Here goes!
THE OPEN ROAD! Well, the road inside a walled city, I guess technically that's not really an "open" road, but guess what, don't be a jerk, c'mon.
Almost a year ago, I set my wedding band down on a bench at an MBTA station and stepped onto a train to New York to start my overseas journey. I was just a pile of limbs moving automatically in a direction that my brain accepted as "correct" without really knowing why, or what I was doing. I feel miles and ages removed from that departure, thanks to friends who reflected me to myself while I tried to pull myself back together (just about there, gang), and this departure feels qualitatively different. Because, well, it is!
A view from Spello. Gates! Doorways! Something something allegory!
Last summer's trip was about putting myself back together - as a human being first, and then as a grad student who'd gone into freefall at a pretty key point in my academic career. This summer's trip is about making some deliberate, decisive moves at the career level and being mindful-grateful of the flexible-schedule-and-geography blessing that grad school has been. I'm (obviously) happier than I was at last year's departure, but also more purposeful, and with a clear sense of what I'm heading into, notwithstanding life's ability to throw everything up in the air Just For Fun.
Where last year's trip was built around a month of research and then a flurry of movement around the continent, doing a bit of writing and a lot of exploring, this summer's trip is built around three dedicated longer-term writing stops, with a bit of fun between each one. As I've discussed before, it's sort of a time equivalent of economies of scale: monthlong stays end up being as cheap or cheaper than an apartment in Chicago. (Catching an $80 flight overseas helps with all of this substantially, as you can imagine.)
"Let's go do something over there!" says the horse man, like an idiot. You're gonna fall off the building if you go that way, man, get it together.
The idea behind this summer's shape was to get as much dissertation drafting done as humanly possible before returning to Chicago, as I know I'll want to work a full-time job there, get back into the theatre scene, spend time with friends, etc. Knowing that getting back to Chicago in May would throw a lot of temptations in my path to scuttle the writing, I decided that long stays abroad, with six or seven hours of work each morning before my Stateside friends woke up, in idyllic environs, sounded like a killer plan. The trick was (a) to make the stays long enough that I wouldn't be in tourist mode, and (b) to pick cities where the appeal was cultural/lifestyle in nature and not a density of attractions to take in. Ideally, I'd be in places where I could pull full writing days, go for head-clearing walks, and take my pleasure from the simple joys of markets, music and theatre, all without feeling I was not making the most of my time either as a writer or as a traveller.
The site of my writing center in Vienna last summer. Ah, Cafe Goldegg, how I miss ya.
So ultimately my three stays will be places I've been before and just wanted more time to soak up, not itinerary-packed destinations, though they're all world-class cities: in May I'll be in Florence, in June in Vienna, and in July in Berlin. My first month will be the gentlest and least-packed, all the better for writing and acclimation; my second will give me a chance to do any last-stage research that needs doing while also taking in some international theatre festival action and some superb operas on the cheap; and my third will keep me in German-speaking culture in a city with a crazy-deep theatre scene.
Odds of returning to a Heuriger in June: extremely solidly promising.
There will be a couple of connective detours between each stop - about a week through the Balkans after Florence, a few days in Slovenia after Vienna, and after Berlin a quick stop in Belgium on my way to visit friends in the UK in August, giving me little bursts of newness and mental breaks, and balancing the summer nicely between [excessively enjoyable and ideally situated] work and [kinda straight-up unnecessary] touring around.
Reichstag self-portraiture from last summer's Berlin week.
And when this summer is done, I know I'll be home. I'm ready. I found it deeply nourishing to nest in Boston this year (more reflections coming on that soon), and the prospect of putting down roots in Chicago again on my return is tremendously hope-generating. This past year has been so packed of so much discovery and movement, and I'm grateful for all of that. But most of all, I'm glad that I'll be rejoining a lot of the friends who were there for me through the tumult of the year that got me from last spring to this, to be able to more actively be present for them, and to start exploring an uncertain, unknown, but thrillingly wide-open future from a place that gives me much joy.
Bristol with a stunning sunset, July 2016
And that, well, that's quite a lovely finish line to be heading for.
My first solo international travel was here some nine or ten years back, for which I remember preparing by fastidiously studying French and various social/cultural codes, some of which leapt back into my brain this trip as soon as I walked off the train from London. This trip was a happy consequence of dirt-cheap airfare that knocked out my previous spring break plans (Los Angeles to see friends I'd hoped to see on a trip last year before getting derailed). And the city was just about as glorious and atmospheric and friendly as I remember. After the jump: videos, photos, pockets of memory!
The view outside my apartment window. OKAY FINE COOL LET'S GET CHEESE AND WINE AND BE FRENCH
Another "missing some footage" video, scored to the song that was in my head all week long. Guys! Now that I'm leaving Boston I have found a favorite band there, a favorite restaurant, and a favorite tailor. Ah, the enduring changeability of life!
This time around I stayed on the Île Saint-Louis, the residential/shops-and-cafes-littered island adjacent to the Île de la Cité, home of Notre Dame and Sainte Chapelle. It just happened to be the most central and affordable of apartments on AirBnB, and given that I was ultimately still writing a chapter while on the trip, that worked out nicely - being central enough that any sightseeing could easily dovetail with my work while still keeping it a week with lots of walking, culminating with the walk up the stairs to my place, a cozy sixth-floor retreat. This turned out to be very important given that pastry figured heavily (HEAVILY) into the week. Whoops.
Paris, bein' old and new all at once.
Basically when you have this view on your morning stroll, you are having a PRETTY OKAY TIME is my feeling.
The theme of this trip was: BLUUUUUE
Sunset on a walk home. Aroo aroo [pictures of kittens falling all over themselves adorably]
That said, I almost immediately found the neighborhood I would want to stay in next time. Saint-Louis is tourist central, though funnily enough it seemed to follow a schedule, particularly on the weekends, by which midmorning to midafternoon Notre Dame and its surroundings were thronged, and late afternoon my home island would be swarming with tourists lining up for ice cream. But once I found my way to the Marché d'Aligre, I was hooked on exactly the energy I like when I travel.
Bastille, my old stomping grounds! Last trip I stayed very near here, and I still love this neighborhood a lot. Disappointingly, a couple of streets near here have grown precipitously in the direction of the Magnificent Mile or a British high street, all global chains and flourescent lights, but once you get off those main drags it's still a charmer.
A little east of Bastille, Aligre isn't untoursity (so so few corners of the city are tourist-free), but has palpable daily rhythms of local trade. A daily morning market where a majority of the customers know the vendors, and bakeries that fill up at 5 PM as workers stop off on the way home for that night's bread (and perhaps a dessert pastry of some sort). It's right near Paris's version of New York's Highline (though if I recall correctly Paris may have gotten there first), which is full of joggers and amblers, and on the day I walked its length, one of the happier spots in the city.
Good lord this walk was gorgeous. My instagram feed that day was an exercise in restraint given the plethora of photos I decided to take.
Speaking of happiness, I found it much the same as when I visited in November almost a decade ago: quite friendly and open! I have friends who've found the opposite, who have gotten frustrated at rudeness/coldness, whatever you want to call it. And I'm pretty sure they all do the same thing I do in terms of learning French and basic etiquette (greeting shop owners on your way in, etc.) so I really think a lot of it comes down to season. I've visited in November and March, and I think others have mostly visited in the summer; and truly, the one window in which Parisians seemed a bit brusque or grumpy was the weekend, when the city's tourist trade visibly swelled up. (The banks of the Seine, often atmospheric and lazy, were wall-to-wall people on Saturday and Sunday.) So, it may just be a question of timing, but whatever the reason - I feel lucky to have had friendly, funny, kind Parisians in almost all of my encounters there.
THIS KITTY WAS PARTICULARLY FRIENDLY.
So, What I Did: between a dumb lost-time window in which I tried to recover lost footage from the end of London and the start of Paris, and dedicated writing time, I wasn't constantly on the prowl. But this felt good: a nice trial run for my summer, which will look similar albeit through monthlong stays in other European cities. So most days were spent about half at the writing project, and half on foot exploring. Some highlights:
Maaaaaybe this ceiling is better than yours. Maybe. I mean it's "nice" at least is a thing you can say about it.
The Louvre. I'd avoided it last time, having heard that it was gargantuan, a madhouse, etc., but thought this time I'd dip in and explore one wing with the help of an audio guide. It was cool! It reminded me of the Musée d'Orsay, though: such a wealth of masterpieces that it becomes difficult to retain your sense of wonder and focus. In a sense, the most stunning thing about the Louvre was remembering its historical use as a palace and place of official governmental business, whereupon its scale and excess suddenly felt pointed and clear. Not something I regret at all, but the Pompidou Centre remains my favorite of the city's (and very nearly the world's) museums.
MAYBE THIS BUILDING IS IMPRESSIVE AS MUCH AS I KIND OF THINK WE SHOULD KILL THE RICH AND MAKE SOUP FROM THEIR BONES.
Maybe actually useful pro tip: if you go to the Louvre at 6 PM on a Wednesday (the day they stay open til I think almost 10 PM) there's almost no line, and crowds inside the museum are pretty... normal-museum-styles? Which means you can hang out with Venus de Milo all by yerself, so neato for that.
Churches! Specifically Notre Dame, much as I remember it from my last trip, down to the quite-depressing box reading "For the poor" in the back of the nave, but an awe-inspiring space with brilliant acoustics. (If you go at a time that mass is being sung, you're really getting it right.) Sainte-Chapelle was a new visit this go round, and while I'm not a huge fan of paying to enter churches it's clear why they charge for it. Given its size, the surround-sound stained-glass brilliance is breathtaking. Again, not entirely my speed, but if you have a taste for this, it's superb. But the real treasure of the city was Sacre Coeur, up on Monmartre. While the surrounding neighborhoods are palpably touristed-up, the church itself is still gorgeous, especially on a late-afternoon blue-skied day. Magic!
The lost video footage of this place makes it clearer how magical light coming through these windows is but, in art-history terms, it was: super keen.
Basilicas are always going to seem cool to me and if they have horses on top then they are going to seem extra cool to me and also look how nice the sky look how nice.
I'd hoped to see some performance while in town, but just missed the cutoff for tickets to Carmen at the opera, and the Comédie Française's production that I wanted to see (Victor Hugo! My fave moral firebrand French playwright!) didn't time out with my trip. I did catch a free lunch concert at the Petit Palais - a lovely and airy museum with an auditorium where a baritone sang, essentially, a recital. But mostly I walked: through neighborhoods, through parks (Parc des Buttes Charmant still maybe my favorite). A visit to the Garnier Opera House (the setting for The Phantom of the Opera) was my nod to the city's rich performing history, and for Hugo I had to content myself with a visit to the Pantheon - essentially a civic monument building with a mausoleum to the country's great heroes in its lower level, including Hugo's grave.
One of the wings of the Garnier, where you could literally hear visitors gasp as they entered. FANCY TIMES USA (France)
The Pantheon! This is Foucault's Pendulum, which demonstrated the rotation of the earth, and which gave Umberto Eco's novel its name (and the setting for its creepy friggin' ending). The building's history is fascinating too! Who cares!
I eschewed eating out this time.... Paris has fantastic restaurants, though a bit more expensive than other continental cities, but also incredible makers of cheese, charcuterie, great produce, etc. - so it was easy to basically make my own grocery-based meals and still feel like it was pretty special and not just a thrift move. The one exception was my first night there, where my friend Thrisa and I met up - she'd been on a longer trip and I'd realized we would overlap the night before I got there. As with every one of these confluences, it was a real treat to see a familiar and friendly face in new circumstances, to share tips and experiences, and then be on our mutual way. I'm in the midst of lining up a few similar meetings for this summer, and I already know they're gonna be highlights.
Thrisa (artist's rendering, if she were a centaur with a... b..bird on her head? OK I forgot to take a picture of Thrisa WHATEVER.
That, and endless meandering, was Paris for me. You get a pretty clear sense, being there, why the French coined a term for Flânerie, the kind of strolling and soaking-in that the city is practically made for. It's one of those cities that I could spend months in and still have things that I'd like to see or do, and I could spend years getting acclimated to the culture, but it was nice to be there and have it feel familiar, welcoming, and a little bit magical.
Flower market on Île de la Cite
Loved this sculpture, passed every time I made my way to Bastille.
St. Germain, early morning charm edition.
Riverside evening strolls. These were magic and lovely.
I may have some stray-thoughts posts in the coming weeks; but for now, travel has taken a turn to the pragmatic! I'm writing this from Chicago, where I celebrated a birthday surrounded by amazing friends and family, feeling really loved and marveling at what a difference a year makes. In a few weeks, I'll be driving my things out here to pile into a storage unit, flying back to Boston to close that chapter and finish the semester, and then I'll be off for a summer of writing abroad, one final indulgence in the geographic freedom that this academic chapter has allowed me before I hit the ground of full-time jobbery (and hopefully a little adjunct teaching while I finish revising and defend my dissertation). Many more reflections on that, and the complicated but ultimately rewarding relationship I've had with Boston, in a future post.
