A Bean in Transit

While the world seems to grow up around me. Adults are having babies and buying houses and whatever it is that "grown ups" do, but i am content with my self diagnosis of Peter Pan syndrome. Having chosen the life of a nomad, it is understandably difficult to maintain relationships with folks from the past. Time passes, lives diverge and priorities change. But imagine my surprise when i sent a notice out into the world of social networking that i had an extended layover in Boston. Having never been there (or at least i don't remember being there) i figured i stood little chance of meeting up with anyone. But low and behold, there was a variable cavalcade of old friends who answered my cry into the dark of night.

With only 9 hours between my flights from Ottawa to the next one to Reykjavik, i can hardly call myself an expert on Beantown. But as i stepped off the plane, a old travel buddy i met while living in Azerbaijan was there waiting. There's something sexy about being picked up by a bad ass motorbike, leather vest and cool dude sunnies included. As we snaked our way the the streets of Boston, i got the impression of history. Keeping in mind that in the Americas 100 years is old (just like in Europe 100 kms is far). Passing old churches and the oldest pub then another old church then some old guys house, Boston is a treasure trove of historical sites.

But this ain't no one trick pony. Boston is a happening little town. Great bar life, respectable sports teams and a thriving tourist industry. But on this trip, none of that mattered. This was a rest stop to be filled with faces from the past, my theatre days to be exact. And even though more than a decade had passed, there was no pause for a "hug check", hugs were flying freely. It's fair to say that since being on tour, each of our lives have gone in completely different directions. But somehow a moment shared between strangers, what seems like a lifetime ago, has made us friends for life.

Of course Boston has it's sites. In a geographic region still in it's relative infancy in terms of history, Boston probably has more than it's fair share of sites. I quite liked the place. Perhaps having a bowl of clam chowder while downing a Sam Adams waiting for your lobster (apparently from Maine) may be simply dismissed as tourist tat. Personally, i say go for it. My nine hours in Boston were filled with all the highlights you might read about in a sort of guidebook or a "visit Boston" tourist brochure. Naysayers may be quick to dismiss my visit as superficial or even "typical". But sometimes travelling isn't about seeing new places, trying different things or escaping a boring life. From time to time travelling can be about seeing old faces, doing the same things and revisiting a life almost forgotten.