I was in Boston for the eight days, neglecting my blog but enjoying my granddaughter and her parents, and my daughter.
My son and family live in the North End of Boston, a neighborhood still full of life. The streets are narrow, the sidewalks often narrower a la México. They are still lined with local stores -- no chains whatsoever, whether by design or not, I don't know. There are local vegetable stores that look rather the way they do here, local meat stores, local fish stores, and what could be called abarrotes here -- grocery stores that sell a little of a lot of stuff. The big difference is that they are much more expensive, as everything in Boston is. My favorite store that sells abarrotes is called Polcari's. It's a step or two below street level, a bit dim, with barrels and cubbyholes and bins holding the goods. And goods are stacked up in the windows. It's not at all "cute". Everything is old from natural aging. I bought Earl Grey tea and Assam tea in scoops from bins. I haven't found here that tea here. I bought seeds for basil, a couple of varieties of Italian tomatoes, a kind of green pepper, and zucchini. I bought a Lebanese brand of couscous which comes in large, pea-shaped balls and bay leaves in a bag. At another store, Pace, pronounced Pachay, I bought farro and a hunk of pecorino romano and small bottles of extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar from Modena and arborio...risotto "autentico." In the fruit and vegetable store I bought a bag of mandarinas--"delites"-- and Pink Lady apples and bananas. Of course the bananas are nowhere near as good as what we grow on our own hillside, but still...
My son is very much at home in this neighborhood. His friends include the guy at Polcari's and at the veggie store and a number of other locales. He played hockey with them while I was visiting. They are thinking of forming a team on an ongoing basis. Hockey is big in Boston. My son lives in a Boston Bruins hat.
Of all the cities in the US, Boston is the one I could live in.
My daughter-in-law and I went to Target. A Target at a mall called Gateway. My son won't go. He calls it Gateway to Hell. I'm still a sucker for Target, but this one is so huge it makes me feel like an ant as I crawl up and down the aisles. People of all shades and accents troll the aisles looking for Stuff. The worst case of trolling for Stuff was in Michael's, the craft chain. There was a Michael's in the Gateway to Hell. It has a lot of appealing Stuff, things fun for my granddaughter to do. BUT it was really strange to see obviously not really well-off people loading carts not with STUFF but with JUNK like clueless little fish going after bait.
Anyway, I am back sitting at my table looking out through the plants at our waterfall. My life here is privileged if not expensive.