Today was our last day in Boston. We’ve decided to take the subway to Harvard, on the other side of town in Cambridge. Since the police are blocking off many of the major arteries for a Parade for the Boston Red Sox (they won the world series last night). Got started around 9 am with the ferry ride, after days of convoluted searches for Subway stations near our hotel, we discovered there was a station right next to the ferry dock on the boston side.
The parade was to begin at noon, so we thought we’d be okay. Wrong, we arrived at the station where many of the outfoing lines converge - and many people change from one line to another, called government center, to change trains to get to Cambridge. We walked down the stairs and found a sea of people, literally THOUSANDS waiting on the platform, all dressed in red sox paraphernalia many with faces painted and various large finger hands pointing up with #1 on them.
Although the crowd was huge, they were all in a celebratory mood. People were singing the red sox song everywhere… yeah, they have one. Others were hollering at the top of their lungs "go red sox" etc.. I even thought I saw the "can collecting guy" from Boston Common (the guy with the colorful language) and his brother (they must have reconciled).The incoming train pulled into the massively populated platform already full to the brim with people already ON the train. It reminded me of Japan where they have “people pushers” whose job it is to lend a hand pushing the final few people into the packed cars before the doors close. We managed to get on the train and even more impressively, once on the train, we actually were able to squeeze our way to the door to EXIT in two stops.
Harvard square was our destination. We arrived and found ourselves surrounded by history. Cambridge and the area around the Harvard College was the center of “loyalist sympathies” during the revolutionary war. Until George Washington and the rebels took over the area, it was chock full of supporters of the Monarchy in Britain. The streets have British names. Many of the treets are narrow, tree lined with beautiful massive front yards and it’s a beautiful walk. The house that was the headquarters of George Washington during the war is about 100 yards from the university, and closeby to the Longfellow home which the famous author lived in.
We had arrived, not in search of enlightment or a higher plateau of knowledge... BUT in search of Tshirts that say Harvard on them. It turns out that most adults don’t want to wear T shirts from a university that they didn’t attend (but not ME, I got one). If anyone asks if I went to Harvard, I’ll say yes.. to visit the campus bookstore.
Sol, worldwide as we travel, it occurred to me a basic philosophical question. Which looks better? A Giant cows head with huge horns on a burnt orange shirt (Go University of Texas - what color actually goes with burnt orange?) or a Giant “H” on aa maroon background (they call it crimson), which no one would know it is a Harvard shirt unless they went there and are part of the “in crowd” who recognizes the big H. I do have a fear, however, in this country we wear T shirts as a personal statement. People usually identify with what they wear and what others wear. I see someone fully dressed in black, with a T shirt that says Alice Cooper and sporting combat boots, visible piercings and purple hair and I think, wow that guy looks trendy.
While we were in Hawaii on the beach, I saw a young woman walk up to a man wearing a harvard shirt and they exchanged the secret handshake and began a big discussion about the university that no one who hadn't attended could possibly know. So I may just wear my shirt around the house and lucy and I can do the Harvard hand shake in private - but only when she's wearing HER shirt.
Here's a uniquely American tradition. We, as American's, MUST have a T shirt (or alternatively a baseball cap) from every place we’ve ever visited. One of my most prized possessions is my baseball cap from Tahiti. I love that I went there and bought it. However, the people in Tahiti are FRENCH. that means a couple of things. Their women Lounge about topless in the strangest places. We were on a tour boat with about a hundred people and sailed within feet of a woman who had decided to sunbath topless spread eagled on a JET SKI. I conclude from that incident that most of the French have an Exhibitionist Tendency and even if the pose is extremely impossible to do comfortably, flaunt your stuff!, and secondly, they have no skill in manufacturing clothing. The baseball cap I bought is without a doubt the Worst I've ever seen. When I wear it, I feel like I'm wearing a beanie with a propellor on the top (it's seriously ROUND), and someone as an afterthought put a tiny brim on it - giving a really weird and nerdy look to it.
We had breakfast in a nice cozy little restaurant near Harvard Square then walked the University grounds. They have a statue of the founder of Harvard college in the center of Harvard Square. It’s where all of the students and tourists start their tours.
It’s a fifteen or twenty foot high bronze statue of John Harvard sitting looking important in period clothing. Some idiot guy climbed up on the statue’s pedestal and was posing for photos sitting on John Harvard’s lap and with his arm around the statue like they were drinking buddies. College… what are you gonna do. These are the future captains of industry.After walking Harvard grounds, we headed back to the Wharf via the subway. It was even more crowded on the way back. The parade was over and now everyone was packing back into the subways to head to additonal ongoing parties throughout the city.
We found huge crowds everywhere. This is a photo of follks waiting for a hot dog at a hot dog stand.
There was a long line to get into a bar that was located on the second floor of one of the buildings there a faneuil marketplace. Every minute or so several people who were in the bar up on the second floor, would lean out the open windows and sing the first part of the Boston Red Sox song at the top of their lungs and the crowd waiting to get in, from down on the street, would sing the second part. It was a major happy fest. 
We set out to find a post office in order to mail home the souvenirs we’d purchased. We had quite a pile of goodies. I was concerned it wouldn’t fit into our suitcases for the return trip. There is a post office inside Faneuil Market – a counter with a single clerk. When I asked her for a priority mail box, she told me that they didn’t accept anything over envelope size – no packages. I asked her where the REAL post office was and she sent us on a wild good chase. We probably walked an extra mile or two trying to find the post office and no one really knew where it was, including the omnipresent cops who were everywhere.
We finally gave up when we stumbled tired, and exhausted into a Kinko’s and shipped the package home via fedex.
While we were walking around trying to find the elusive post office, we encountered a phalanx of about twenty motorcycle cops cruising up and down the streets in formation with sirens blaring and lights flashing. They weren’t going anywhere in particular, not leading a VIP limo or escorting a funeral, just riding around the area making noise in celebration of the Red Sox.We found the people in Boston to be friendly, no matter what their level of income or social status. Everyone was great. We didn’t see a single rude act the entire time we were there. IN FACT the average person we encountered in shops, on the street, on the ferry’s and subways was much like that gal we met on the first day at the information booth in the subway. We asked her a simple question and she came out of her booth, helped us to put our coins into the ticket sales, chatted with us about life in general and then escorted us to the turnstile to make sure we could figure out how to get in. thank you Boston for a great time.
Our final trip back to the Constitution inn across the bay was during sunset. A beautiful sunset, sailboats, crisp air and our trip wound up.
