A Message from Beantown

Photo by myself of a street performer in Chinatown, on the Lower East Side.

I took the bus from Chinatown, New York, to Chinatown in Boston, Saturday afternoon. The fare is only fifteen dollars each way, compared to the train, which costs eighty-five dollars each way. You have to reserve a ticket early to get a seat.

Near the bus stop, a fellow was walking about in an animated way. He was either performing or in his own universe.

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I'm posting from Boston, where I'm visiting family.

I grew up just outside Boston, so the Boston-New York rivalry is very familiar to me.

All through my childhood, the Red Sox and Bruins were the scrappy underdogs, seen very much in contrast to the big, bad New York teams. New York was seen as both near and far, like a loud, brassy cousin you hate but can't get enough of.

All through college, I'd commute to Boston by train or bus, through New York. The trains were always packed at Thanksgiving time. One year I had to stand up the whole way on an oversold trip, while suffering the flu. Another year I took the bus home, scrunched between the wall and a large woman carrying a little dog on her lap.

Now that my parents live in California, I don't come out here so much, but I ought to. Seeing Boston now through a New Yorker's eyes, it's refreshing. The trains are slower but cleaner here. It's very green. The people are nice and not in a rush to get somewhere.

And the sports teams? Eh, they're not so bad.

Related posts: Halloween Musicians and the NYC Marathon, All That Jazz and Music to the Ears.