Visiting the coast

No one walks in Iowa. I realised this while trying to get some bread at my neighborhood Caseys when the sidewalk suddenly disappeared into a patch of mud and never made it out. Boston in the Fall was like a breath of fresh air to this city-deprived girl. We walked around in charming squares listening to music, window-shopped and ate from the shops huddled around Quincy Market. I even modeled for a woman demonstrating how to wrap a dress in a 100 different ways. 10 looks later we fled to the Aquarium. We nudged our way through a pack of French tourists blocking the door of an Italian cafe and inhaled the delicious aromas of soft bread, dripping with olive oil and parmesan cheese. Fairly stuffed, we walked around Northend sampling from the famous pastry and gelato joints. I watched as a bunch of guys played frisbee in the twilight, and the streetlamps flickered on in corners. Couples sat in parks sipping their coffees and the crowds drifted from the parks to the resturants and pubs. I lay in bed that night listening to crowds below us laughing into the wee hours of the morning. We joined the college crowd for a heart breakfast on a Sunday morning with endless refills of fresh coffee. I another few hours it was over. My vacation felt like going home ... like pretending I had never moved out of the East Coast. I was sad to leave.. I miss the broad sidewalks that stretch along the streets, parks and river. I miss the walks.