A stripe of red paint substitutes for red brick as the Freedom Trail heads along the
Charlestown Bridge (aka North Washington Street Bridge).
The lightposts on the bridge were adorned with banners celebrating the Celtics' playoff run. My stay coincided with the Celtics' battle with the Detroit Pistons in the NBA Eastern Conference finals. Take a wild guess as to where my loyalties lay (hint: the team that lost to the eventual league champions).
First stop over in Charlestown was
City Square, where giant fish watched every move I made. A phoenix may be a more appropriate symbol, given the square's ability to
resurrect itself from invasions, fires and elevated freeways.
Boston firefighters put out blazes and quench the thirst of thirsty walkers.
A memorial to those who fought in the Civil War stands in Winthrop Square.
Simmering resentment against the British dies hard on
Bunker Hill. I arrived too late to
climb up the 221' obelisk but found the site was great for observing the neighbourhood, shooting postcard-style pictures and capturing 233-year old grievances.
I hopped on the subway and headed back into the burbs. On a whim I got off at
Davis Square in Somerville, mostly due to a dim memory of a CD store I blew a bundle at years ago. No sign of the store, but I browsed the neighbourhood for a few minutes. The square is dotted with statues based on local residents that
were erected in the 1980s as part of the
MBTA's Arts on the Line public art program.
Any guesses as to what this man was not?
An elderly couple for a stroll. All of the statues bear mask-like faces, creating a theatrical effect.
After getting lost several times on the way back to Woburn I stopped for dinner at
Churrascaria Rodeo, a Brazilian steakhouse near the hotel. Not feeling up to non-stop barbecue, I ordered a dish I rarely pick while dining out - steak.
The steak dinner was gut-busting enough. Mom would have loved the cut, which was simply seasoned and juicy. Accompaniments included rice, beans, steak-cut fries and a refreshing pico-de-gallo-like condiment. The waiter noticed I was merrily wolfing down the steak and offered sample cuts from the non-stop service. Two types of smoked sausage stood out, which lived up to their "sweet and savoury" menu description. I sat under a karaoke screen that nobody took advantage of, despite the beach babes depicted in the videos. The only disappointment was a flat glass of guarana soda.
Next: Canada bound. Full set of photos on Flickr.
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