Colour in Grey

2 May

The sun’s rays lit up the vast greenery of the park by the water that we were following. We now found ourselves walking across a bridge, as we reoriented ourselves, trying to find our way to the university campuses (MIT and Harvard).

 “Do you think Boston will have job opportunities for writers?”  I ask.

 “Oh, definitely. You go on the sub and every bloody person has a book.”

 Excuse the expletive, but that sentence is an embodiment of the friend whom I had that short conversation with. (*cough* Elliot *cough*)

Before the memories become stale, I’d like to remind myself of why Boston had and will continue to have a lasting impression on me.

Character; such a seemingly pretentious way to describe a city. After all, character belongs to animate objects like humans and animals, not concrete, immovable objects like buildings and pavements. Yet, I think that the word perfectly describes my impression of Boston.

It’s ironic to me that a city full of concrete and bricks can be so pretty. You would that that all the grey would eventually cause a depressing onset of grey feelings. On the first day, I was simply amazed at how different Boston was from Vancouver. On the second day, I started to notice little things that gave Boston its ‘character’.

On the whole, buildings and streets in Boston would be a solid colour of grey or brick etc. However, in the midst of all that, there would be a little surprise of colour where you’d least expect it.

On fire hydrants, in parkades, on the walls, at random spots on the street…

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The people were incredibly conversational. Of course, this a generalization based on the limited interaction we had with the locals.

There was the store manager in the U.S.S Constitution museum who in a short span of 10 minutes told as about the history behind a certain kind of native art, the architecture of the building and the museum, as well as the writers’ club in Boston where Lewis Carroll first read his ‘Christmas Carol’ out aloud to his fellow writers over punch.

There was the lady who stopped to help us as we ventured into the city on the first night. Despite the rain, she put her bag down and took out her reading glasses to point out the route we should take, on our pathetic thing of a map. She commented on how the easiest way to get there would not take us through the scenic route.

There were the nameless, faceless people, who I will never recognize if I saw them again, who helped us when we didn’t know how to buy the transit tickets to board the train, or when we weren’t sure where we were walking toward.

These splashes of unexpected colour, through buildings and monuments, as well as people and animals, leave me feeling bittersweet about my time in Boston.

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2 Responses to “Colour in Grey”

  1. RobinLK November 12, 2014 at 1:35 pm #

    Husband and I LOVE Boston! Beautiful pictures…

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