ursamajor | Boston, you were our home.

What belongs on a Boston bucket list? Like, despite having lived here for nearly two decades, I have still never walked the Freedom Trail, even though living in Boston is what’s turned me into a walker, and a biker. But I’ve walked out to Castle Island, around Jamaica Pond, through the Middlesex Fells and the Blue Hills, down Comm Ave and up the Greenway, Mass Ave nearly end to end, through the Harvard campus more times than I can count (though I can still get lost at MIT), from downtown to Fenway Park on multiple game nights where I didn't feel like cramming myself into the sardine can known as the Green Line. I’ve navigated Somerville by specific Bathtub Marys, and greater Boston by specific Dunks. I've biked on Storrow Drive and out to Bedford on the Minuteman and pretty much most places in between; kayaked along the Charles, and swum in Walden Pond and the Mystic Lakes and the Res; ice skated on Frog Pond and under the lights of Kendall Square. And, well, fallen on my ass multiple times because black ice and long New England winters. Heh.

I've eaten my weight in lobster rolls (warm and buttered preferred, cold with mayo okay, NEVER celery) and oysters and fried clams (though not Boston baked beans). I've warmed up with countless bowls of clam chowder in the winter. I've stood in line for a scoop at Christina's in a nor'easter. And at Tosci's. And at JP Licks. And I've had ice cream for breakfast at Gracie's, for elevensies at the farmers' market, for lunch at Honeycomb, at Picco post pizza, as a nightcap from the Scoop 'n Scootery at the foot of my street. I've eaten the Boston cream pie at the Omni Parker House (a classic there, but I prefer Flour's); cannoli in the North End (I'm a Modern woman); gotten a hot dog and a frappe the first day it's above 40 degrees at Sully's. Joined and opined on my town's Pizza List, because we have 20 pizza places in our 5.5 square miles for our 40,000 residents, but also eaten a perfect cheese slice at Santarpio's, finished a Giambotta slice by myself at the real Regina's. (

hyounpark will tell you his favorite slice in the area is at Newtowne Grille in Porter, and also about his Mass Ave Pizza Run.) I've started my day with cream of wheat at The Neighborhood, and oatmeal at Johnny D's (RIP); finished it with burgers at Charlie’s and Bukowski’s and O'Sullivan's, gyoza at Ginza (RIP), lobster at Peach Farm, 3 am cannolis from Bova. I've been that person bringing home a flat of fragrant strawberries on the Red Line from the farmers' markets, and also that person balancing farm-fresh eggs in their bike basket pedaling down Highland Ave in mid-winter. Eaten omakase at O Ya; gone to Oishii (RIP) at 3 pm on a Saturday afternoon just to get a seat; ordered things I'd never heard of off the Cafe Sushi menu reflecting the seasons; tried too many izakayas that ended up not being izakayas (though Momi Nonmi is, at least, delicious, and I have to make it to Hojoko soon). I found acceptable by native Californian standards Mexican food at El Pelón, and then again later at La Victoria. Just last week, I was able to get siopao at Tanám. I've even gotten one never-to-be-repeated "PERFECT!" at Yume Wo Katare. Watched Asian dining in Boston grow from Parker dinner rolls with my Chinese delivery to this rich ecosystem that understands the roots of their respective regional cuisines; that includes itamae I trust, Asian Americans at the helm pushing sustainability, seasonality, transparency, equality.

I've spent countless hours in Harvard Book Store, Brookline Booksmith, Porter Square Books, my spiritual homes; and a fair bit of time throughout the rest of Boston's independent bookstore ecosphere. I've picnicked along the Esplanade and watched July 4th fireworks from both sides of the river (Cambridge side wins); sung in Symphony Hall, Jordan Hall, and Fenway Park; gone to shows everywhere ranging from the tiny Lily Pad on up to the Garden, but Club Passim is my home. I've ridden the Duck Boats (appropriately, with

theducks) and the Swan Boats, and visited the Ducklings in the Public Garden to see what outfits they were wearing that week. I’ve been swept up in the Kenmore Square crowds more times than I can count after a Red Sox victory.

I fell out of love and back into love enough times that my mom finally yelled, "JUST PICK ONE!" Neighborhoods, friends, lovers; the memories all spark joy for me every time I walk down the street, whether it's walking by Mr. Crepe and remembering when it was the Someday Cafe and how I once escaped a bad date there by climbing out the bathroom window, and remembering how Mr. Crepe used to be up the street and was also a nice little getting-to-know-you place; strolling and then biking up Mass Ave as part of the post-fireworks (or post-Cambridge-Dance-Party) wave of humanity seeking ice cream; hearing "YANKEES SUCK!" anytime I'm within proximity of Fenway or the Garden; standing anywhere on the Marathon route and cheering on strangers and sometimes, in the pouring rain, friends.

I've made my home in triple-decker Victorians, Federalist brick and brownstone, the top floor of a Queen Anne where H and I learned to dub birds "those CHIRP CHIRP MOTHERFUCKERS" because they would wake us up at 3 am in the summer, a duplex close enough to the Minuteman I could constantly watch our neighbors stream by on bikes, even on the couch of the Cambridgeport Commune for a couple of months. And now, after two decades in Boston, two dozen years in New England, and too many cubic yards of snow shoveled, our time here is drawing to a close; in August, we are moving to the Bay Area.

Boston, Sunset, June 7, 2019

We'll still be (long) walking distance to the train; I'll still bike to local farmers' markets. I'll add more swimming to the mix; H will add more hills to his half-marathon training, but still be able to run on a bike path near our new place. I already have a spreadsheet entitled "Bay Area Farmers Markets and Independent Bookstores," and we have a plan to identify the best pizza places nearby so we can find our go-to as quickly as possible. We will miss all you locals dearly, but we will be back. Just not in, say, January. ;)

Bay Area friends, I'm sure I'll have questions for you about the practicalities of this new life we're trying out. For now, I'm looking forward to seeing more of you all starting in August!

And yep, we're driving across. 90 most of the way, then detouring a bit to avoid the worst heat of Nevada in summer the best we can. (Neither of us are Burning Man candidates, I'm afraid. :) ) Highlights we hope to hit: Cedar Point, the Dane County Farmers' Market, Yellowstone; other things TBD, hopefully many of them kitschy, delicious, and/or beautiful. Any recs from those of you who've done this before? We'll have most of two weeks to do this.

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From:

azurelunatic

Enjoy!

I like having a colander out for the fruit you pick up along the way. The bottom is less soggy than a bowl.

ursamajor

Ooh! That is a really good idea, and we will definitely be picking up lots of fruit for road snacks, whether it's gas station bananas or farmers' market berries. (Though it also occurs to me that we should probably think about how to bear-proof the food once we get past, say, Minnesota, and start spending more time in national and state parks.)