Boston.
I've heard people rave and rant over the city and talk about how they could visit New York but would have to live in Boston, but I always waved away there comments with the thought, you just don't know New York. I take it back. While I love New York and I could live here, Boston is an amazing town. Full of history and charm. The cobble-stoned city seems stuck in time, neither here nor there, but all at once in the past and future. In New York it's the nights I love. But Boston would be a morning town. Before the bakers and trolley guides and the students get to work, I can imagine the city full of mist rising from the harbor and the fishermen just undocking and slowly setting out to the sea. I'm completely torn. It was always New York, New York, New York after I got out of college, but now I have to consider Boston.
I'm completely torn.
New York is fast and fun and seductive. Boston is cool and ease and charm. A lot less tiring than the city, with a little less excitement as well. But you pick and choose, weigh the pros and cons, and toss a coin and decide.
But I still have three years and I'm jumping ahead much too far. But hey, that's what I do.
Boston was wonderful. Marg and I pulled into the station around five and headed straight to the hotel to meet up with Mom and Anne. Then we hit up Faneuil Hall for dinner and a walk around the market. Boston reminded me a lot of Italy. Strange I know. But just like in Rome where you would walk past a McDonald's and there would be a column erected in 300 B.C., in Boston you would walk past a Dunkin Donuts and there would be a state house built in 1730, which, in American terms, is ancient. At night the cobblestoned streets and markets reminded me of Florence, so warm and musical and romantic. On Friday we took the trolley tour around the city and then the train up to Harvard to walk where so many had walked before (how cliche is that). However I'm not going to lie Harvard was beautiful and Cambridge was positively quaint. We met up with our friend Adair for lunch who is married to the Boston Red Sox pitcher, and then window shopped along Normandy Street (the Rodeo Drive of Boston). But due to the lovely weather the Northeast is experiencing right now we cut the shopping short and heading back for a quick costume change at the hotel, then off to dinner and dessert and bed. Saturday was Paul Revere's house and the Old North Church and Salem.
Oh, Salem.
I'm not sure if anyone reading this out there realizes what a Taylor Family Vacation is, but I'm sure most of you know what National Lampoon's Vacations are correct? Well, we're the real live version of that.
Example A.) White Water Rafting down the Nantahala. Sounds like fun for all! Think again. The dam is released at 10 in the morning which is right when the lovely Taylors decide to get in their one man crafts and "duckie" down the river, amidst freezing cold, class four and five rapids, till Margaret- the oldest of the bunch- runs aground on an island and loses her raft. Sweet Anne, always willing to help, lands on the island and attempts to fit both herself and Margaret in the one man craft. That's right one man craft. As in, it doesn't matter how tiny Margaret and Anne are, they will not be fitting their two teenage bodies into that raft. -Meanwhile, Dad, Mom, and myself have all made it past the island, past the waterfall (directly after the island) and have stopped ourselves at the next rock to wait for the girls. Five minutes later and one lonely empty raft floating by and Mom and Dad are not in the best state of mind. - Back to the girls: After realizing there is no way to go down the river, or get off the island they both sit and wait to see what will happen. Thankfully some boy scouts on the land have noticed their dilemma and unlike the other twenty or so passers by have stopped to call for help. In rush the red-shirted rescue team to make a human chain and carry the girls off the island. In swoops the big bosomed Boy Scout mother to hug and blanket both my sisters to safety. In dives the awkward teenage boy to hand my sister one of her (two) lost shoes. "I found your shoe." (Sorry kid, better luck next time) And in goes the Taylor family to the suburban to head back to Mississippi, slightly defeated but with a wonderful story to tell.
Example B.) London. A wonderful cross the Atlantic, European adventure to spend some time as annoying American tourists and also to visit our cousin Patrick. It's March and it is HOT in lovely Mississippi. T-shirts and shorts and flip-flops attire the entire Taylor family from Sam to myself. We board the plane, we head to Detroit, (the first stop on the plane ride to London), and we head nowhere. The plane is stopped, not due to malfunctions, not due to overbooking, but due to a blizzard that is raging throughout Detroit. We are forced to stay the night in the motor capital of the world. In a blizzard. In t-shirts, and shorts, and flip flops. (At that time we had not had that many Taylor Family Fiascos and had not thought to bring a back up bag, we now know better and have an emergency bag that is filled with clothing, toiletries, first aid, extra cell phone batteries, and much much more) Holed up in a Holiday Inn for the night, we soon realize the front desk has run out of all basic supplies such as tooth brushes and tooth paste, also there is not a gift shop for us to buy an extra shirt or change of clothes. So Papa Sam and Anne decide to brave the blizzard, seeing as how the taxis stopped running from the hotel the time we got off the last one. They walk not one, not two, but three miles in the snow in their flip flops looking for a Walgreens, a CVS, anything. But sadly Detroit is incapable of supplying your most basic of needs when a blizzard hits. -Meanwhile- Back at the hotel, Mom, Margaret and I have decided that we would like to get some sleep while waiting for Anne and Dad to get back. But no, we can't, because it is the family reunion from Hell going on outside our door. They're all wearing lime green t-shirts. And there is at least thirty of them under the age of ten. And why they are not in bed? Beats me, but needless to say they are not, and have taken the lobby and the first and second floors (ours of course) as their playing grounds and the night clerk is much too amused by the goings on to bother with hushing any of the Boombox playing, "she hit me, no he hit me first" screaming, or the ding-dong ditching of hotel doors. And seeing as how all of the other hotel guests at the time (because honestly who wants to be in Detroit during a blizzard) are their respective families, it is only the Taylors who sit up through the night, teeth clenched till the next morning, where thankfully the planes are taking off. Then it's to beautiful Amsterdam where we feel like the Home Alone family with fifteen minutes to get from gate from gate, my mother literally throwing me over luggage carts since my short legs and large backpack had trouble keeping up. And finally to London, a day late, no sleep, and my cousin waiting for us at the hotel to hit the streets.
Example C.) Dallas. Or should I go, duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh (just hum the theme song to Dallas in your head as you read this post, or if you're like the Taylors, you'll have it on CD and be playing it in the background). A roadtrip, through Texas nonetheless, hitting up Houston and Dallas and there were others but let's stop there. See the sites, shop a little, get to know the locals (and without a doubt each other on that fun suburban ride). But wait, what trip through Texas isn't complete without a trip to SOUTHFORK!!!- most of you have paused, scratched your head, and pulled a google screen to figure out what the heck Southfork is. But wait, I'll enlighten you, it is where the TV show Dallas (which I have never seen an episode of) is filmed. It has a ranch house, a cheesy named restaurant, and a bunch of Japanese tourists. No I have not seen this show, no Anne has not seen this show, but ole Marg had and Mother of course, and as soon as Margaret put in that CD that has the theme song to Dallas on it Dad is pulling up the extremely long driveway to Southfork. Is there anything interesting to see? If I'd seen the show I'm sure, otherwise no. It's a bunch of memorabilia from some TV drama that aired before I was born. Oh but this is where the Taylor family Christmas card will come from this year. I was quite a looker in my white shorts, yellow tank, and braces sitting on the side of the pool. (A solid year for the Christmas Card to say the least) This wonderful half a day sidetrip to Southfork would be enough for anyone, but wait, there's more. We then decide to go to downtown Fort Worth to see the cattle drive (or the twelve cows who slowly walk down the street led by dressed up high school students) and ride the mechanical bull at Billy Bob's (hey at least I can say I've done it!). All of this was in the middle of one of the hottest summers Texas has ever seen. But hey, once again, there was a story to tell.
And now, if you've made it through this post this long give yourself a clap on the back because here finally is the point of it all.
Salem. (or example D) We were going to go to Lexington and Concord and see where the "shot heard round the world" took place, but due to the tours being booked for Saturday we decided to hit up Salem- the place where the witch trials took place (think The Crucible). After a beautiful ferry ride out there, past some of the most gorgeous New England houses I've ever seen and past the real Shutter Island, we land at the Salem dock, which is about a fifteen minute walk to downtown Salem. We are expecting a quaint, AG museum type of town, where the buildings have been reconstructed and the village looks the way it was when the trials were taking place. Oh no, Salem is a thriving little harbor town, and has become what I would refer to as witch and weirdo capital of the world (no offense if you're from Salem). After eating lunch at the Witch's brewery, we headed off to the center of town where we passed more than six houses specializing in palm and tarot card reading. After politely (I didn't want any bad luck thrown at me!) refusing the rather hunched up looking woman who wanted to know if we wanted to tour the witch's village, Mom, Anne, Margaret and I ended up at the graveyard memorial of the twenty victims of the Salem Witch Trials. Their real gravesites are unknown, but that's okay because the creepiest of all memorials has been erected next to what I swear is a witch's house, antlers around the door, moss on the wall, creepy faces peering out of curtains (and this isn't even October!). Then following the red line through Salem (something very similar to the freedom trail in Boston, only it's the witch's trail in Salem) we end up in the middle of a cobblestoned street where a reenactment of the arrest and trial is taking place. A woman in a period costume is being dragged away by two men. After gleefully watching for a few minutes, Margaret, Anne, Mom and I head on out to the Witch's dungeons, the one thing we've been told is worth seeing. It is a reenactment of the trial and then a reconstruction (underground, mind you) of the dungeon the victims were kept in, complete with wax figures. Well we are not really fond of being underground in dark creepy corridors where the only exit is three turns past a bunch of tourists and goth looking high school students, but we agree to go down and see the exhibit. Sad as it was to see how they were all kept, my mind was much more on hanging on to whoever was in front of me so that I wouldn't get left and rot in those creepy dungeons. Needless to say, the tour guide- thinking it was funny, hides under a blanket in one of the cells and then moves so that as we're looking into the cell the blanket falls. Four near heart attacks and one scream later we are in the daylight heading away from Salem as fast as we can towards the ice cream shop and the dock. Oh but the ferry won't come for another two hours. No worries, as long as we're off the island before sunset the four of us are quite happy to sit on the dock and eat our ice cream and wait. Some people go to the beach for vacation. Oh no, we go to the Salem Witch Memorials.
After the ferry finally came we headed back to Boston for one last dinner and dessert and then it was back on the train to New York and to quite a fun Sunday night/ Monday morning.
But I have to go grab my laundry. Will finish post later.
-Mandy
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