“Excuse me Ma’am, I’m in quite a rush and was wondering where I might find the bus terminal where the Peter Pan and Greyhound buses depart?”
“Yo, you’re gonna have to slow that down there kid..What yo say?!”
I was lost in Albany, New York state. I had approximately 9 minutes to make the bus to Boston. All I knew was that it was somewhere on Hamilton street and I would later find out there are two Hamilton streets in Albany and the one I wanted was 2km long..
The woman I had stopped outside of a grocery store, was definitely the wrong person to ask, as she soon began to list all the different times she had ridden on the Greyhound and all the different places she had visited; “..and then this one time we were heading up to Vermont for a weekend with our relatives….oh let me tell you , Vermont is Beauuutiful, oh my! I can’t say the bus ride was the most comfortable experience of my life, but the end result sure was rewarding..”
“Sorry Ma’am”, I interrupted, “but would you happen to know where the bus stop for the buses would be?!” my voice trailed into slight frustration mixed with timely anxiety.
“Oh no, sorry darlin’, but I aint from around here.”
I made the bus. Just. But I can’t say Mrs “Reminisce” had anything to do with it.
I arrived in Boston and soon met up with my dear friend Kiara. We would be heading up to her beach house on the North shore for a few days, where we would spend our time there with some mutual friends.
It was a great place- right on the beach. Days and evenings were spent eating seafood, drinking wine, exploring the island and it’s beaches and having heart-warming conversation…it really was an enriching weekend.
The most notable highlight, was the evening we had the “bright idea” to cook Lobster. Arguably the group was more
excited at the thought of the first bite than the process to prepare the local delicacy, but Marcia, from Brazil, was quick to point out that she had cooked Lobster before-however we would later find out that ‘has cooked Lobster before’ and ‘watched mother cook Lobster once’ seem to represent the same meaning in Brazilian culture..
After selecting possibly the largest live lobster at the Fish place, we sat at home hemming and hawing about what to do with it now and as we soon rushed to our generations safest place of instructional security- YouTube – we began voting on favourable methods. After much debate, the Brazilians, Marcia and Caca, took over and the end result was delicious if not at the very least well-earned…
From there I spent two days in Boston. It really is a great city- a hub of initiative, education, quirky cafes, scrumptious seafood and some of Americas biggest sporting culture. I made a point of immersing myself in each of those highlights.
Before I knew it, I had a plane to catch..I had cut my East coast adventures shorter than originally intended but something was calling me West and although I felt slightly frustrated at the thought of just seeing the central United States from 40,000 feet and not from ground level, I promised myself that I would return to explore it.
As I boarded my United flight at 6:20 am in Logan International airport, surrounded my airport staff workers just starting their day- most likely still hungover from the Hockey victory celebration s the previous night- I looked back on my time on the East..the family, new friends and old, special places, familiar places, ugly places and uncomfortable places, great food, good food and suspicious food…memories, laughs,smiles and tears..it really had been the perfect trip at the perfect time.
On a deeper level, the East coast has been my ground, my earth and my fertile soil as preparation for whatever is to grow and flourish out West. With this in mind, I took a deep breath, winked at the air-hostess in response to her “Have a good trip”, took a tight grasp of my growing anticipation and boarded my flight to Los Angeles, California..