For most of the last three years that I _________ have lived in Boston, I have been counting down the days until we would move. I have enjoyed many uniquely New England experiences but at the same time I haven’t found enough positive things to outweigh all the negatives to comprehend why anyone would live here permanently.
I moved here three years ago because my husband, Sam, was accepted to the dental school at Boston University. He drove the moving truck from Arizona to our new place in Norwood, MA, with his brother, while I flew first class with Rachel who was only 3 months. He was accepted at other schools too, but we choose Boston because we were ready for a change. He was born and raised in Phoenix, and thought it would be nice to experience the seasons. I too was raised in Phoenix, and had been dreaming about living on the east coast since junior high. My best friend Nicole and I fantasized about moving to New York or Boston, going to college together, and sharing a dorm. However, when the time came, we went for the less adventurous (and more practical) option of going to an in-state school. It was cheaper and near family. I thought I had missed my one chance to leave my hometown and see another part of the world, so I was psyched at this second chance at this opportunity of a lifetime.
The fact that this move was viewed as temporary was the sole source of all my optimism, after all, I could put up with anything as long as a definite end lay ahead.
It is during the pleasant weather days that I love living in Boston. I am invigorated by the endless list of historic sites to see, beaches to try out, and happenings to experience downtown. I find the crisp, cool days of fall perfect for enjoying the vibrant colored leaves. I find a genuine cause for celebration in the arrival of Spring, which is initiated by Mother Nature’s decorating for the occasion. Not only are beautiful flowers raised from the thawing ground, and shades of green returned to the landscape, but the bare branches of towering trees are smothered with cheerful, pink, white, and purple blossoms. Summer days are packed with potential, in my opinion. Theoretically, I could spend them on nearby beaches, on a blanket in the Commons watching Shakespeare in the Park, or walking the history-filled, cobblestone, streets of Boston.
However, on the days with lousy weather, I am less enthusiastic about my present New England location. The winters, by far the worst, are unarguably frigid, gloomy, and borderline unbearably long. Even the uplifted spirits that come with Spring are dampened when gray skies return again, only this time bringing downpours of rain instead of snow. By the time summer arrives, I am grateful to finally feel uncomfortably warm. When I get into my car after it has been sitting in the hot sun, and the burst of heat almost suffocates me, I catch myself giving a sigh of enjoyment. Inevitably, even these long awaited for summer days become tainted when Boston reaches oppressive on the humidity scale. I am actually used to sweaty weather since I grew up in Phoenix, but for me the most miserable part is not the thick, sticky air, but the fact that the historic homes (while undoubtedly full of character) are generally lacking central air conditioning and the obvious relief/escape it can offer. Fall can be beautiful, but in the past few years has been cut short by an anxious winter, and all you feel is that you were jipped. Last year the first snow fall came early, just after the leaves had dropped, on Halloween. Unfortunately, according to my own precise calculations, these lousy weather days make up approximately 8 months out of the year, which is exactly why I chose the word tolerating to describe my mood most of the time.
There did come a point, however, when I was caught off guard and realized I loved Boston more than I thought, and that I might actually miss parts of living here. It hit me one evening as I was driving north from Quincy, a city just south of Boston (where I actually live), to a friend’s house in Belmont. It was just as I was driving through downtown Boston. I was driving over the Zakim Bridge, all lit up, (one of my favorite sights in the city), and as I looked out to my left I could see the lights of the tall buildings that make up the Boston skyline and even parts of it reflected in the Charles River. I felt a lump in my throat thinking that I had only a year left to view this amazing sight as part of my daily routine.
This set off a chain reaction of planning in my head and for the rest of my drive I made a mental list of all the sites I had yet to see. Three whole years in Boston and I still hadn’t been to Martha’s Vineyard, or even the Cape. There were still the historic sites just minutes from home, such as the John Adams house, which I drive past five times a week and yet have never made time to go inside for a tour. These were placed on the top of the list but they were only the beginning. I also thought of my favorite places in the city: the shops at the Prudential Center, Copley Square, and dinner with a view of the water at the Barking Crab. I definitely needed to experience them a dozen more times each before I left to make sure they would be imprinted into my memory. Arizona I love, but for different reasons; mostly the warm weather and all the family nearby, but it cannot compare to the history and character of this immaculate city.
Returning home that evening from my friend’s house, I had another realization. I was cruising down the freeway and was blissfully singing along to the radio. There was a good song on the radio, but most importantly I was alone which meant I could sing right along. country station, (because it is banned when Sam is in the car), All of a sudden, I was forced off of I-93. The right lane I was driving in suddenly became an exit-only lane, except with absolutely no warning! No merge sign. No big yellow warning signs at a half mile and then a quarter mile, (as I was accustomed to seeing on the west coast). Just bang! You’re off the freeway. Determined not to let the Boston roads prevail, I tried to remember my chipper mood just moments before, and forced myself to stay calm. I took a deep breath and told myself, “That’s fine. I will just get right back on the freeway. No problem.” Only there was a problem.
I was suddenly in an unfamiliar city, which in itself is a bad omen if you are driving in Massachusetts, but then also found myself at an intersection that in no way resembled a grid. There were five roads that met at odd angles with a few round-a-bouts to add to the confusion. There were no big signs that in any way said, “If you want to get back on the freeway going south, towards Boston-take this road.” I proceeded slowly, just enough to appear cautious, while in actuality trying desperately to read all of the street signs in an attempt to interpret one of them to mean, “I-93 South-this way.” I got excited when I saw one sign for route _____, which sounded familiar, except the sign directed towards route ___ east and west , and I thought it ran from north to south. Even more frustrating-I could see the freeway, it was right there, only no way to get back on it. Five minutes later I was still circling within the crazy intersection, which I viewed as an accomplishment because it meant that at least I hadn’t gotten sucked on to some unknown road going to who knows where, although I was really no closer to finding an onramp to the freeway. After some frantic flipping of the map book (describe it-what brand is it? Vital, required) I decided to follow route ______ which I believed would take me towards ___________.>>>>>Eventually, with detours through _______and Cambridge I found myself back on I-93 and drove back over the Zakim bridge. This time I realized that there are parts of Boston that I love, that I would miss it, but am relieved I will be leaving and ecstatic that it will be to a city with straight, clearly marked roads.
Maybe something about how I will still use this last year to do all the things here I always wanted to do.
Now that I knew where I was and was out of danger of getting lost I called Chris on the phone to tell her of my epiphany. After she got a good laugh at my expense, she confessed she had been feeling the same way. We decided we needed a plan for our last year here, so we organized a last minute girls night out. I called Kim and Chris called Jamie and we met for hot chocolate at the Panera Bread next to North Quincy station.
“I can’t believe this will be our last year here.”
“Good riddance”
“I am going to have our Uhaul packed and ready to go so we can leave straight from Dave’s graduation.”
“Okay Chris and I were talking and one of the things we decided is that if we are all waiting for the year to end, it is going to drag on for-e-ver!”
“Yea, so we were thinking that in order to make the time fly we have to make sure we are constantly enjoying ourselves.”
“You know, we will have all of these plans, so many in fact that we won’t be able to fit them all in because there just won’t be enough time.”
“Exactly! And before you know it our husbands will be in their caps and gowns and we will be the wives of Doctors!”
“I’m in!”
“Me too!”
“So, what is there to do that we haven’t gotten around to in the last three years?”
“ummmm.”
“well, we could….”
“Oh I know!” Finally I remembered one of my ideas, “Visit the John Adams House. I must drive past it 5 times a week and yet I have never been in it. I don’t know, maybe there is a reason, it’s probably lame.”
“Nope, it’s going on the list. Who is writing these down?”
Blank stares all around as we start rummaging through our purses to find a paper and a pen. Plenty of baby wipes, and spare snacks, and broken crayons, but hardly anything that is useful.
“Okay, I’ve got a pen!”
“Finally!”
“But nothing to write on.”
“here you go” hand her a napkin..
1. Take a tour of the John adams House
2. Tour the Church in Quincy center, the one in the middle of the road
3. take the ferry to martha’s vineyard
4. spend a day on Nantucket island
5. go ice skating on the frog pond
6. Go on a fall foliage drive
7. Go to NY
8. Go to the Macy’s day parade
9. spend thanksgiving in Plymouth
10. Tour old ironsides
11. watch fireworks over the charles river
12. Go Apple picking
13. ride the swan boats
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Saturday, May 1, 2010
chapter 9 - my favorite color
When my daughter was about 3 she asked me, "Mommy, what is your favorite color?" I thought for a second and then realized I didn't really have one. I like certain colors of clothes, and other colors for home decorating, but I didn't really have a favorite color. I didn't like the feeling I got about that, who doesn't have a favorite color? What kind of a person doesn't know enough about what they like and don't like, that they don't even know what their favorite color is? So I thought about it, and I ran through all the colors in my head. When I thought about each color, almost nothing came to me, until I got to yellow. When I see yellow, I think "happy", sunshine, and flowers and smiley faces. So I chose, right then, and told my little girl, "Yellow. Yellow is my favorite color because it makes me happy." I don't decorate my house in yellow, and I don't have tons of yellow clothes, and I don't choose yellow everything, but I don't think that is a requirement for a favorite color. This led me to think about what my other favorites were. What is my favorite movie? My favorite meal? My favorite book? It was a total Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride kind of moment. I wanted to figure out the answers to all of these basic questions and now I just needed to figure out how, just how I could figure it out.
This also made me think back to when I remembered how much I loved reading. I wondered how many other things had I already figured out, but had let get lost in my previous busy life.
This also made me think back to when I remembered how much I loved reading. I wondered how many other things had I already figured out, but had let get lost in my previous busy life.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Chapter 8 - books
After the holidays past, and I officially finished my last college classes, my life returned to normal...and it was only then that I realized that I was forced to realized it was a new normal. I was a stay-at-home mom...and I found myself admitting it wasn't at all like I had pictured it. But when I tried to figure out what I had pictured, I realized that I hadn't pictured these years at all. Sending my little girl off to school-sure. Being a soccer mom, or a gymnastics mom, or a dance mom--sure. Taking family vacations camping or to Disneyland--of course. But the everyday life with an infant, not at all. I don't really get how this happened. I mean, my sister just ahd a baby a year ago so I thought I knew what to expect. But other than seeing my neice play with toys, and get her diapers changed, when we would get together, I guess I really wasn't paying that much attention.
This whole nursing thing, not even close to a piece of cake. Isn't the baby just supposed to know how to do it? Apparently not. And being at home with a little one who can't talk can be torture. After realizing some days I would go practically the whole day without hearing my own voice, I started making a daily phone call to my sister just to ensure I had at least one conversation during the day, and it helped to be able to vent about some of this motherhood stuff
"Someone should write a book about what motherhood is really like. Not like a what to expect type book, but a novel, or a memoir."
"Uh, Amber, there are lots of them out there."
"Really?"
She gave me a few titles and I wrote them down. I thought about the last time I had been to the library for fun. I don't think I have read a book for pleasure since junior year in high school. Ever since I started having to read a book a week in my AP English class senior year, all my free time was used up with trying to read thick, confusing classics and writing book reports. After that, and all of the textbook reading I did in college, I had forgotten how much I loved reading.
As proof of how much I had missed it, I still remember the first book I read when I re-found my love of books. Little Earthquakes, by Jennifer Wiener. The storyline was a bit to complicated and dramatic to be compared to my own life, but I loved how candid they were when talking about motherhood. I remember reading a part where one of the moms talked about how hard breast-feeding was, and thinking "okay, I guess people have writen about this." Most of all I loved how I could escape from my day, and get lost in another world. I love how usually, anything you want to learn how to do, you can find a book that can teach you 'how to'.
This whole nursing thing, not even close to a piece of cake. Isn't the baby just supposed to know how to do it? Apparently not. And being at home with a little one who can't talk can be torture. After realizing some days I would go practically the whole day without hearing my own voice, I started making a daily phone call to my sister just to ensure I had at least one conversation during the day, and it helped to be able to vent about some of this motherhood stuff
"Someone should write a book about what motherhood is really like. Not like a what to expect type book, but a novel, or a memoir."
"Uh, Amber, there are lots of them out there."
"Really?"
She gave me a few titles and I wrote them down. I thought about the last time I had been to the library for fun. I don't think I have read a book for pleasure since junior year in high school. Ever since I started having to read a book a week in my AP English class senior year, all my free time was used up with trying to read thick, confusing classics and writing book reports. After that, and all of the textbook reading I did in college, I had forgotten how much I loved reading.
As proof of how much I had missed it, I still remember the first book I read when I re-found my love of books. Little Earthquakes, by Jennifer Wiener. The storyline was a bit to complicated and dramatic to be compared to my own life, but I loved how candid they were when talking about motherhood. I remember reading a part where one of the moms talked about how hard breast-feeding was, and thinking "okay, I guess people have writen about this." Most of all I loved how I could escape from my day, and get lost in another world. I love how usually, anything you want to learn how to do, you can find a book that can teach you 'how to'.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Chapter 7 ~ Our first Winter Storm
Okay so I knew that it snowed here, and I knew it got cold here. But we just got our first snowfall of the season, and it is way beyond being able to wear a cute jacket and a matching hat and scarf. The weather channel was calling it a Nor'easter (whatever that means) and it dumped three feet of snow in one day. December 5, 2007. It is a day I will never forget. When the first snowflakes started to fall I happily sat by the window watching. Then after about a foot of snow had fallen, I put some boots on and went outside and walked around in it. They were dressy black boots with a chunky heel that I used to wear to work, I didn't have any snow boots, I hadn't ever needed them in Arizona and we hadn't gotten around to buying any here. Since I obviously didn't own the proper gear for playing in the snow I came inside and continued watching through the window. When about two feet of snow had fallen I was starting to imagine having to dig our car out of the snow. Then after waking up the next morning to see even more snow had fallen, only a small sliver of the top of the window was still showing, I wondered if I would even be able to get my little Arizona car to start once it was finally uncovered. It was a little Pontiac sunfire, and it was my first car, the car I had bought when I was starting college. At the time I had picked it because it was in my price range and it was cute, but after paying for a lot of repairs I learned that if I had done a any research I would have found it on the Consumer Reports 'used cars to avoid' list. Based on it's past performance, being burried under all of this snow didn't seem to be anything it would recover from.
The good news, Sam finally got a few days off from school. It was two days before our street was plowed enough that we were able to walk outside and try to uncover our car. The owner had aleady shoveled the walkway up to the front door, and now the piles of snow on both sides were as tall as my waist. We walked into the street, since it had been plowed, that was the only side of the car that was reachable. Unfortunately though when the plow came by clearing the street, it piled up more snow on this side of the car, so that the snow drift completlt covered it. We spent the day 'digging out' as the locals call it. We took turns shoveling (with a shovel we borrowed from the owners upstairs-were we supposed to buy one of these?) while the other one stayed inside with Rachel. All of our neighbors were out doing the same thing. It was funny that this was the first time we had even seen many of them, and here they all were, all in the front yards saying "hello" to one another like some Norman Rockwell painting. Funny, but nice.
Just when we had shoveled enough that it felt like we were making progress, I could actually see the side of the car now, I saw the snow plow starting to come down our street. At first I was excited, when you are scooping snow away one shovel at a time, a giant snow plow appears to be your friend. Only, as I watched it come down the street I could see that since there was still a lot of snow on the ground, this final layer of snow was getting pushed up onto the side of the road once again. As it got closer, I stepped out of the street and watched it as it drove by, pushing another layer of snow up against the side of our car. Back to square one. It took a lot more shoveling, and many breaks for hot chocolate, before we had cleared enough that we could get our car out.
After all that work, we decided to celebrate by going for a drive, even though we had no where we needed to go. Once we hit the main road, about four blocks away, we were surprised to see black asphault. Apparently these main roads were plowed a lot more frequently, and the world didn't stop for three days like I had assumed (typical naive west-coaster) just from the view from my living room window.
On Monday morning I offered to give Sam a ride to school so he wouldn't have to trudge through the snow and wait for buses that were sure to be delayed. Shortly after getting on the freeway in Quincy, we passed the brightly colored gas tank that had become a familiar landmark, and I looked off to the right. At this spot the road is right next to the water and you can look out and see the ocean. Only I had to do a double-take, because this time when I looked right, all I saw was a blanket of snow. What? Where is the ocean? This is the right spot?...isn't it? Apparently the temperature had gotten so cold that the top layer of water had frozen, and then all the snow that fell just piled right on top. If you didn't know that you were supposed to be able to see water there, you wouldn't have thought there was anything abnormal. But knowing this, made me feel like I was in Antartica! I later had time to think about it and realized that because Boston is pretty much a bay, the water is more stagnant there, and pretty shallow right there by the coast, so just because it froze right there didn't mean a whole lot. But I still don't like the sound of it. If I was living in a place where the ocean freezes over, I might need to buy a bigger jacket.
Good-bye Tigger Jacket from The Disney Store and hello super-insulated, calf-length, parka from Lands End.
(ocean freezing over could have happened in January)
The good news, Sam finally got a few days off from school. It was two days before our street was plowed enough that we were able to walk outside and try to uncover our car. The owner had aleady shoveled the walkway up to the front door, and now the piles of snow on both sides were as tall as my waist. We walked into the street, since it had been plowed, that was the only side of the car that was reachable. Unfortunately though when the plow came by clearing the street, it piled up more snow on this side of the car, so that the snow drift completlt covered it. We spent the day 'digging out' as the locals call it. We took turns shoveling (with a shovel we borrowed from the owners upstairs-were we supposed to buy one of these?) while the other one stayed inside with Rachel. All of our neighbors were out doing the same thing. It was funny that this was the first time we had even seen many of them, and here they all were, all in the front yards saying "hello" to one another like some Norman Rockwell painting. Funny, but nice.
Just when we had shoveled enough that it felt like we were making progress, I could actually see the side of the car now, I saw the snow plow starting to come down our street. At first I was excited, when you are scooping snow away one shovel at a time, a giant snow plow appears to be your friend. Only, as I watched it come down the street I could see that since there was still a lot of snow on the ground, this final layer of snow was getting pushed up onto the side of the road once again. As it got closer, I stepped out of the street and watched it as it drove by, pushing another layer of snow up against the side of our car. Back to square one. It took a lot more shoveling, and many breaks for hot chocolate, before we had cleared enough that we could get our car out.
After all that work, we decided to celebrate by going for a drive, even though we had no where we needed to go. Once we hit the main road, about four blocks away, we were surprised to see black asphault. Apparently these main roads were plowed a lot more frequently, and the world didn't stop for three days like I had assumed (typical naive west-coaster) just from the view from my living room window.
On Monday morning I offered to give Sam a ride to school so he wouldn't have to trudge through the snow and wait for buses that were sure to be delayed. Shortly after getting on the freeway in Quincy, we passed the brightly colored gas tank that had become a familiar landmark, and I looked off to the right. At this spot the road is right next to the water and you can look out and see the ocean. Only I had to do a double-take, because this time when I looked right, all I saw was a blanket of snow. What? Where is the ocean? This is the right spot?...isn't it? Apparently the temperature had gotten so cold that the top layer of water had frozen, and then all the snow that fell just piled right on top. If you didn't know that you were supposed to be able to see water there, you wouldn't have thought there was anything abnormal. But knowing this, made me feel like I was in Antartica! I later had time to think about it and realized that because Boston is pretty much a bay, the water is more stagnant there, and pretty shallow right there by the coast, so just because it froze right there didn't mean a whole lot. But I still don't like the sound of it. If I was living in a place where the ocean freezes over, I might need to buy a bigger jacket.
Good-bye Tigger Jacket from The Disney Store and hello super-insulated, calf-length, parka from Lands End.
(ocean freezing over could have happened in January)
Chapter 6 - First holiday away from home
We moved into our new apartment on November 1st. Soon after that came Thanksgiving. Our first major holiday away from home. Sam had so many tests since the semester was nearing the end, and since they only give two days off of school it wasn't enough to make a cross-country trip back to Arizona to spend it with family. I was dreading having to make everything myself, and was already missing my moms homemade rolls. Thankfully we weren't the only students in the same predicament. After asking around, Chris and Dave had found there were a few other student couples in Quincy that were also from the west coast that were going to be stuck here as well. Dave and Christine decided to host a potluck Thanksgiving Dinner at their place. They invited two other couples, Kim and Chris, and Josh and Lindy. Kim and Chris were from Utah, Chris was going to school to be an architect. Josh was from New Jersey and Lindy was from Utah, Josh was in Med school at BU, and Lindy was majoring in accounting at UMASS.
With so many of us contributing to dinner we realized that we wouldn't have to cook all day long and decided to plan a group trip down to Plymouth during the day. It was unbelievable that on Thanksgiving Day I was taking a tour of a replica of the Mayflower, and looking at "The" Plymouth Rock (which is much smaller than I had imagined by the way). I couldn't wait to call my family and tell them, and hopefully hear jealousy in their voices. I was relieved when this thought came to mind, because it meant that maybe I wouldn't get homesick when I called and start to cry when I realized I was the only one not there.
Somehow, between the eight of us, we managed to put together a full table of food, all delicious--which was a pleasant surprise to all of us. At the beginning of the day everyone wished they could have been at home, but I think by the end we were content with our day, and happy that we had avoided ten-hour, round-trip flights, all for just a one hour dinner with family. Not only that, but we had started a new tradition. All of us clicked. It is so hard to find couples that both you and your husband get along with. But our whole group was perfect, everyone got along, and had such a fun time together, Hopefully, this was the start of a new Thanksgiving tradition.
Unfortunately, studying called and the festivities were broken up so they guys could get home to study.
With so many of us contributing to dinner we realized that we wouldn't have to cook all day long and decided to plan a group trip down to Plymouth during the day. It was unbelievable that on Thanksgiving Day I was taking a tour of a replica of the Mayflower, and looking at "The" Plymouth Rock (which is much smaller than I had imagined by the way). I couldn't wait to call my family and tell them, and hopefully hear jealousy in their voices. I was relieved when this thought came to mind, because it meant that maybe I wouldn't get homesick when I called and start to cry when I realized I was the only one not there.
Somehow, between the eight of us, we managed to put together a full table of food, all delicious--which was a pleasant surprise to all of us. At the beginning of the day everyone wished they could have been at home, but I think by the end we were content with our day, and happy that we had avoided ten-hour, round-trip flights, all for just a one hour dinner with family. Not only that, but we had started a new tradition. All of us clicked. It is so hard to find couples that both you and your husband get along with. But our whole group was perfect, everyone got along, and had such a fun time together, Hopefully, this was the start of a new Thanksgiving tradition.
Unfortunately, studying called and the festivities were broken up so they guys could get home to study.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
chapter 4 - luxury vs. necessity
After Sam got home from school one day, I decided to head to Walmart to pick up a few things. The store is only about five minutes away and once I got onto Newport Avenue it was pretty much a straight shot. I was proud that I was finally starting to figure out my way around.
When I was leaving to come home, I apparently wasn't paying attention because after driving for over fifteen minutes I didn't see anything familiar, okay I was lost. I was trying to avoid stopping to ask for directions, not because I don't like doing it, but because Sam has told me frequently that it is different out here, and it isn't a good idea to do anything that would make it appear that you are a naive tourist, or that you are alone and lost. I saw a sign that said "Wollaston" and remembering that I lived near the Wollaston neighborhood I decided to head that way hoping it would get me on the right track. By then, it was already dark and I just ended up further away. When I found myself driving alongside the ocean I was overcome with a feeling of being out of my comfort zone. I was a desert girl. Driving alongside the ocean made me feel like I was at the end of the earth, and while we lived somewhat close to the beach, it wasn't anywhere near on the way home from Walmart. I was obviously more turned around than I thought so I decided to stop at a gas station and ask for directions. Gas stations aren't as plentiful and as conveniently located on the corners of intersections out here so I had to drive a while longer just to find one. While I drove, I practiced asking for directions in a tone that didn't shout, 'I am a naive girl who is lost and alone.' I decided I couldn't mention that I was in fact trying to find my own house, so maybe I could say that I was looking for my friend's house, or maybe the Wendy's which is near where I live. When I got out at the gas station I rolled down my window and asked the attendant even more vague, in a 'silly me I've been here before but can't seem to find it this time' tone, "How do I get to North Quincy from here?"
"Do you know where the Walgreens is?"
"Uh huh." (crap! no. why did I say that?! but I can't change my answer now, then I would look lost and dumb).
"When you get to the Walgreens take a left and it will take you to E. Squantum street, follow that and it will take you to North Quincy."
"OK. Great. Thanks for your help." Crap! Crap-crap-crap! I rolled up my window and started slowly driving back towards the road. Only which way to go. I picked right. I probably should have turned left, because going right didn't lead me to any Walgreens. I tried turning around at one point but trying to find my way to through the maze of round-a-bouts proved impossible. Eventually I ended up near the free way and was able to figure out how to get back home.
I finally made it back about an hour after leaving Walmart and attempted to explain to my worried husband how easy it is to get lost in this town. The good news is, we could now justify buying a cell phone as a necessity and find some way to squeeze it into our budget.
I also jumped at the chance, when a week later a I heard someone from church was moving and was giving away their trusty map book. Our realtor had one of these books, and I had thought it was strange that a local, who drove around different neighborhoods for a living would need such a thing. But apparently the maps here are not just for tourists. Later on, that book came in handy in more ways than one.
When I was leaving to come home, I apparently wasn't paying attention because after driving for over fifteen minutes I didn't see anything familiar, okay I was lost. I was trying to avoid stopping to ask for directions, not because I don't like doing it, but because Sam has told me frequently that it is different out here, and it isn't a good idea to do anything that would make it appear that you are a naive tourist, or that you are alone and lost. I saw a sign that said "Wollaston" and remembering that I lived near the Wollaston neighborhood I decided to head that way hoping it would get me on the right track. By then, it was already dark and I just ended up further away. When I found myself driving alongside the ocean I was overcome with a feeling of being out of my comfort zone. I was a desert girl. Driving alongside the ocean made me feel like I was at the end of the earth, and while we lived somewhat close to the beach, it wasn't anywhere near on the way home from Walmart. I was obviously more turned around than I thought so I decided to stop at a gas station and ask for directions. Gas stations aren't as plentiful and as conveniently located on the corners of intersections out here so I had to drive a while longer just to find one. While I drove, I practiced asking for directions in a tone that didn't shout, 'I am a naive girl who is lost and alone.' I decided I couldn't mention that I was in fact trying to find my own house, so maybe I could say that I was looking for my friend's house, or maybe the Wendy's which is near where I live. When I got out at the gas station I rolled down my window and asked the attendant even more vague, in a 'silly me I've been here before but can't seem to find it this time' tone, "How do I get to North Quincy from here?"
"Do you know where the Walgreens is?"
"Uh huh." (crap! no. why did I say that?! but I can't change my answer now, then I would look lost and dumb).
"When you get to the Walgreens take a left and it will take you to E. Squantum street, follow that and it will take you to North Quincy."
"OK. Great. Thanks for your help." Crap! Crap-crap-crap! I rolled up my window and started slowly driving back towards the road. Only which way to go. I picked right. I probably should have turned left, because going right didn't lead me to any Walgreens. I tried turning around at one point but trying to find my way to through the maze of round-a-bouts proved impossible. Eventually I ended up near the free way and was able to figure out how to get back home.
I finally made it back about an hour after leaving Walmart and attempted to explain to my worried husband how easy it is to get lost in this town. The good news is, we could now justify buying a cell phone as a necessity and find some way to squeeze it into our budget.
I also jumped at the chance, when a week later a I heard someone from church was moving and was giving away their trusty map book. Our realtor had one of these books, and I had thought it was strange that a local, who drove around different neighborhoods for a living would need such a thing. But apparently the maps here are not just for tourists. Later on, that book came in handy in more ways than one.
Chapter 3 - apartment hunting
Being at home with a 2 month old after you move to the other end of the world from family and friends (or so it seemed), especially when your husband was at school all day and then swamped with studying all night, is harder than I thought it would be. Sam takes the commuter rail into Boston each day. There is actually a stop right here at our apartment complex, but despite this convenience, we still live far away, and his school is no where near a train station. After he catches the train here he takes it to South Station, and then has to wait for a bus which takes him to the school. So after all that it takes about an hour to get to and from school each day. Which means he is gone from about 7 in the morning until 6 at night, and that is on a lucky day when the buses are running on time.
I have been filling my days with trying to unpack just the necessitities (since this place is just short-term), trying to finish my last few college classes over the internet, re-learning my daily routine in this new environment, and trying to figure out this little daughter of mine. Rachel seems to want to eat about every hour, aren't they supposed to go at least a couple hours? Sometimes I try and distract her and make her wait, but most of the time it is easier to just feed her so I don't have to listen to her fussing. After all, I am just sitting here all day anyway.
Things like figuring out how to do the laundry have taken probably more thought than they should. The problem is, the laundry room is two floors down. How do you carry a basket full of clothes, quarters, laundry soap, fabric softener, and a infant down two flights of stairs without dropping the most important item? Could I leave Rachel in the apartment while I run down there real quick? What if she is sleeping safely in her crib? What if I even lock the apartment door? Maybe it is because I am new here and not completely comfortable, but I can't seem to justify it. So the method I have went with is putting some laundry soap and softner in baggies and putting them in the basket of clothes and then setting Rachel right on top. For now, as long as I don't run into any neighbors that work for child protective services I think it will be alright.
After a few weeks, I am finally feeling settled and ready to venture out on my own. Last Saturday we drove to a place downtown called Quincy Market. A place with lots of shopping, restaurants, and on the weekends there are street performers that are entertaining to watch. One thing I learned on this outing was how easy it is to get lost here. Adios to streets that were designed with the grid system in mind. Whoever designed these streets had to have been on crack! There are so many times that you aren't exactly lost, because you can see where you want to go, but you can't figure out how to get there. So after experiencing this it made me a little hesitant to venture out on the roads. But our 3 month lease is expiring quickly so we need to find a place to move soon.
I had found some apartments online. I thought I could narrow them down by making some phone calls first, but I am learning yet another way the east coast differs from the west. I have been trying to compare places and one thing I have been trying to figure out is how big the apartments are. I didn't think that "How many square feet is it?" was a difficult question to ask an owner...but appartantly I am mistaken. 'It is a two bedroom' or 'It is a 4 room apartment' is about the most descriptive they will get. I am not sure if they really don't know how big it is, or if they just don't want to reveal exactly how small it is. Whatever the case, it appears that narrowing them down over the phone is not an option, and I will need to check them all out in person.
........
FYI trying to find any address in this town is IMPOSSIBLE! I spent the whole day trying to see three apartments. There are hardly any street signs in this town, and if there does happen to be a street sign it is probably 10 yards from the corner, hidden behind a tree! After spending an hour trying to find one house, I pulled up to this run down place on a super busy street. I just sat there in the car staring at it and decided, 'I don't care what the inside looks like, I don't want to live here.' The realtor I was meeting was waiting outside and waved to me, and I bolted. I just drove off. Hasta la vista. Hopefully she isn't the realtor in charge of any other apartments I want to see because I probably just burned that bridge.
Also, apparently any apartment with two bedrooms feels entitled to charge the same amount of rent. It doesn't matter if it is run down, falling apart, has the washer and dryer down in a dingy cellar with a dirt floor, it is still $1100. In Arizona if you are willing to live without a nice view, you save $100, go without a fireplace, save another $150. Not the case here. You get what you get, and you pay an arm and a leg for it.
One of Sam's classmates recommended we look in the city of Quincy. This friend, Dave, and his wife Christine, live there say it is way closer to the school but far enough away that it is safe and still inexpensive (relatively of course). So we decided to check it out. Of course, "we" means it is me who spent another miserable day driving around getting lost, trying to keep Rachel happy in the car for hours on end, having to stop and feed her, change her diapers, oh and see some apartments while I am at it. I hate that everything is so complicated with a baby. Of course I should be the one to find apartments, because I am the one who is home all day, but this is definitely not as enjoyable, or as easy, as shopping for an apartment in college with my soon-to-be roommates. Today there was some hideous places: red shag carpet, hideous wanna-be-wood floors, so much for east coast character and brownstones with wood mouldings.
I was almost ready to give up, when I finally found the perfect place. After the place with the red shag carpet I told the realtor I was calling it a day. She said she had one more place, it wasn't as close to the T (the subway), and it was in North Quincy, but it was a nice place. I told her thanks, but no thanks, but I was worn out and just wanted to go home. If I didn't leave soon I would get stuck in rush hour traffic and it would take me more like 2 hours to get back to Norwood. I put Rachel in her carseat, buckled her up, then got in and sat down. I took a deep breath and was happy to be done for the day, but when I realized that I still didn't have a place, which meant there would probably be many more days like this, I almost had a panic attack. I jumped out of the car and ran over to the realtor's car before she drove off. I tapped on the window and she rolled it down, "I guess I have time to see one more place." I followed her to the final apartment and we pulled up to a beautiful house. It was an actual house, with a patio, maroon shutters, and a front yard with grass. It was what they call a two family house, the owners lived upstairs and they were renting the first floor. The inside was even better. Dark wood floors, that were in good shape, wood moulding around all the windows and on the ceiling, two bedrooms, and a large kitchen with normal sized appliances (including a dishwasher) and even a cupboard with room for a washer and dryer. True, it was kind of wierd for it to be in the kitchen, but way better than down in a dingy cellar. And what do you know, this place was way better than everything else we looked out, but it still carried the standard two bedroom price, $1100. Sold!
I have been filling my days with trying to unpack just the necessitities (since this place is just short-term), trying to finish my last few college classes over the internet, re-learning my daily routine in this new environment, and trying to figure out this little daughter of mine. Rachel seems to want to eat about every hour, aren't they supposed to go at least a couple hours? Sometimes I try and distract her and make her wait, but most of the time it is easier to just feed her so I don't have to listen to her fussing. After all, I am just sitting here all day anyway.
Things like figuring out how to do the laundry have taken probably more thought than they should. The problem is, the laundry room is two floors down. How do you carry a basket full of clothes, quarters, laundry soap, fabric softener, and a infant down two flights of stairs without dropping the most important item? Could I leave Rachel in the apartment while I run down there real quick? What if she is sleeping safely in her crib? What if I even lock the apartment door? Maybe it is because I am new here and not completely comfortable, but I can't seem to justify it. So the method I have went with is putting some laundry soap and softner in baggies and putting them in the basket of clothes and then setting Rachel right on top. For now, as long as I don't run into any neighbors that work for child protective services I think it will be alright.
After a few weeks, I am finally feeling settled and ready to venture out on my own. Last Saturday we drove to a place downtown called Quincy Market. A place with lots of shopping, restaurants, and on the weekends there are street performers that are entertaining to watch. One thing I learned on this outing was how easy it is to get lost here. Adios to streets that were designed with the grid system in mind. Whoever designed these streets had to have been on crack! There are so many times that you aren't exactly lost, because you can see where you want to go, but you can't figure out how to get there. So after experiencing this it made me a little hesitant to venture out on the roads. But our 3 month lease is expiring quickly so we need to find a place to move soon.
I had found some apartments online. I thought I could narrow them down by making some phone calls first, but I am learning yet another way the east coast differs from the west. I have been trying to compare places and one thing I have been trying to figure out is how big the apartments are. I didn't think that "How many square feet is it?" was a difficult question to ask an owner...but appartantly I am mistaken. 'It is a two bedroom' or 'It is a 4 room apartment' is about the most descriptive they will get. I am not sure if they really don't know how big it is, or if they just don't want to reveal exactly how small it is. Whatever the case, it appears that narrowing them down over the phone is not an option, and I will need to check them all out in person.
........
FYI trying to find any address in this town is IMPOSSIBLE! I spent the whole day trying to see three apartments. There are hardly any street signs in this town, and if there does happen to be a street sign it is probably 10 yards from the corner, hidden behind a tree! After spending an hour trying to find one house, I pulled up to this run down place on a super busy street. I just sat there in the car staring at it and decided, 'I don't care what the inside looks like, I don't want to live here.' The realtor I was meeting was waiting outside and waved to me, and I bolted. I just drove off. Hasta la vista. Hopefully she isn't the realtor in charge of any other apartments I want to see because I probably just burned that bridge.
Also, apparently any apartment with two bedrooms feels entitled to charge the same amount of rent. It doesn't matter if it is run down, falling apart, has the washer and dryer down in a dingy cellar with a dirt floor, it is still $1100. In Arizona if you are willing to live without a nice view, you save $100, go without a fireplace, save another $150. Not the case here. You get what you get, and you pay an arm and a leg for it.
One of Sam's classmates recommended we look in the city of Quincy. This friend, Dave, and his wife Christine, live there say it is way closer to the school but far enough away that it is safe and still inexpensive (relatively of course). So we decided to check it out. Of course, "we" means it is me who spent another miserable day driving around getting lost, trying to keep Rachel happy in the car for hours on end, having to stop and feed her, change her diapers, oh and see some apartments while I am at it. I hate that everything is so complicated with a baby. Of course I should be the one to find apartments, because I am the one who is home all day, but this is definitely not as enjoyable, or as easy, as shopping for an apartment in college with my soon-to-be roommates. Today there was some hideous places: red shag carpet, hideous wanna-be-wood floors, so much for east coast character and brownstones with wood mouldings.
I was almost ready to give up, when I finally found the perfect place. After the place with the red shag carpet I told the realtor I was calling it a day. She said she had one more place, it wasn't as close to the T (the subway), and it was in North Quincy, but it was a nice place. I told her thanks, but no thanks, but I was worn out and just wanted to go home. If I didn't leave soon I would get stuck in rush hour traffic and it would take me more like 2 hours to get back to Norwood. I put Rachel in her carseat, buckled her up, then got in and sat down. I took a deep breath and was happy to be done for the day, but when I realized that I still didn't have a place, which meant there would probably be many more days like this, I almost had a panic attack. I jumped out of the car and ran over to the realtor's car before she drove off. I tapped on the window and she rolled it down, "I guess I have time to see one more place." I followed her to the final apartment and we pulled up to a beautiful house. It was an actual house, with a patio, maroon shutters, and a front yard with grass. It was what they call a two family house, the owners lived upstairs and they were renting the first floor. The inside was even better. Dark wood floors, that were in good shape, wood moulding around all the windows and on the ceiling, two bedrooms, and a large kitchen with normal sized appliances (including a dishwasher) and even a cupboard with room for a washer and dryer. True, it was kind of wierd for it to be in the kitchen, but way better than down in a dingy cellar. And what do you know, this place was way better than everything else we looked out, but it still carried the standard two bedroom price, $1100. Sold!
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