Tag Archives: the north end

Mmmm, culture.

This looks like a great exhibit—photos of ordinary Bostonians, snapped from the 1960s through the present day, by city native Russell duPont. On display through August 20th at that beautiful piece of local architecture known as City Hall.

(Screen grab from Boston.com)

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That’s some good sax.

Glorious day in Boston. GLO-RI-OUS, in a Will Ferrell voice. A day for eating cold pasta and listening to Van.

Uh, this song is so North End. From the opening line, to all the images of hot men doing construction it brings to mind (whaaat?) and, of course, those horns. The North End in general is very 80s sax-like horn intense. There are always a lot of people walking around in ill-fitting acid-wash jeans like it’s 1984. I thoroughly enjoy it.

Things also on my mind:

Sun hats.

Yeah, just sun hats and Bridg….

Also, I wish I was blonde. Hmm, just now while writing this, I stretched my foot out and thought, “that feels weird, but strangely nice too…” A pool of sunlight on the carpet? Try I just stuck my entire foot in a plate of hummus.

Off to the sink. Happy Sunny Wednesday!


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Cafe Nuovo, binge-eating, and Libya.

The North End is known for its Italian Restaurants, its tourists and its cheese shops. It’s known for pizza and espresso, pastry places like Mike’s and Modern, and old ladies with shopping bags and swollen feet. It’s not really known for having great breakfast. But when I woke up this morning, I had sore legs and a crabby-mood headache, and I made the executive-decision that only one thing was going to cut it: fresh coffee, and someone else making me eggs. (Okay, that’s two things. Math is over-rated.)

I’ll rewind a bit. Yesterday I had a very long (aka fourteen hour) day at my unpaid internship, followed by work tonight at the restaurant, straight through Monday. Wah, wah, wah, someone call the WHAMBULENCE, I know, but I really just needed to get out of my apartment and relax a bit before my shift today. And I guess I feel slightly guilty going out to eat by myself. It seems very Sofia Coppola to me. Like I needed new gladiator sandals and a pale blue mole-skin—and maybe also a directing career and a fortune—just to do it. Shockingly, I still somehow managed to get out the door.

And thankfully there was somewhere to go, since Salem Street now has Cafe Nuovo, a restaurant that as of now still serves only breakfast and brunch food. Which is fine, because they’re very good at it. I’ve been there three times since I moved here in December, and I have to say, me likey a lot. Big fan. It’s incredibly reasonable (5.99 (!) for two eggs any style, with delicious scali toast and very good home fries), they have good coffee, and the waitresses are nice. Hmm, what else…it gets great light in the morning. Good banana bread and orange juice, too. And it’s nice to eat alone at.

Of course, going out to eat today was really stupid of me, after the debacle of what happened last night. I was working an event that had a lot of food, which meant a lot of left-overs and harried face-stuffing while running dishes, and I got an up-close-and-personal reminder of why I was fifteen pounds heavier in college. (Let’s just say a buffet dining hall + stress isn’t good for anyone’s arm tone.) It was a night where it seemed completely normal to me that I was mixing shrimp cocktail with Popeyes fried chicken, followed by mini chocolate eclairs and roasted red pepper crostini, topped off with coffee-oreo JP Licks, and then a nice glugging of ginger-ale, with a side of macaroni and cheese and tiramisu to finish things off. (This all occurred in the span of twenty minutes.) I should probably be juice-fasting for the next 48 hours, or cayenne peppering, or whatever it is that Beyonce does to get “healthy” fast, but sometimes you just need to order an omlette with peppers and cheese and watch SportsCenter on mute, even if you’re still full from the night before. (And probably will be for the next month.)

But the North End really is lucky to have this spot. I sat there peacefully, drinking my fresh-squeezed orange juice, texting my boyfriend, and attempting to read an article on Libya, which is always fun first thing in the morning. (Whenever I come home to a new New Yorker at night, I always crawl into bed, read the celebrity profile (this week Jane Fonda—why is Klute SO GOOD?), read the movie reviews and other pop-culture-ey things (great article on the Pioneer woman blog), browse the comics and snort a little bit, and then throw the thing on the floor in exhaustion, feeling incredibly guilty that I have by-passed all the poems and in-depth articles on the numerous wars going on in this world, and chosen, instead, to sleep. (Does anyone else read those things last….or never?)) But it is what is. And I don’t like how little I comprehend of that stuff. (That stuff? Uh….) The question is, of course, what comprehending any of it does, anyhow. It’s strange to read about rebel armies, and the deaths, and the desert, while looking out a window at laughing old men and food trucks slowly lumbering by and feeling like you live in a very peaceful part of a very peaceful city in a very peaceful nation. But I’m going to finish the article now, most likely with a window on Wikipedia open, so I can understand what the hell the reporter’s talking about. And hopefully I don’t fall asleep from my idiocy, or from being too full.


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There was a lamb there all along!

Many months ago, during our frigid and long winter, I posted some photos of the Catholic Church on Hanover Street. I loved how the statues looked buried in the snow, and I loved the bright green and super-cheesy wall that served as a back-drop.

WELL, I was walking around the same spot the other day, in the midst of a glorious GLORIOUS spring day, and I noticed how the whole area had been totally transformed: gone were the grey snow and fallen branches; in its’ place now a stunning display of pink flowers and heat and green grass and new life and tourists peeking at things and late April loveliness. And I discovered something entirely new about the site while I was at it: lambs! (Baby lambs!) Who knew, but there were baby lambs near the stoic praying people all along!

Speaking of the world’s most precious lamb….

Still not over it.

Probably never will be.


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Hood and cute shoes.

Two good things about spring: soft serve on Salem street and MikeTomlin’s shoes. (The whole outfit, really.)



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Blue to Yellow.

Yesterday, I was having a blah day. And it stank. And there was no real reason for said blah-ness, which made it even worse. But sometimes those days just happen, I guess. (But do they happen to Kate Middleton? Riddle me this…)

Of course, there is one upside to having a bad day, or morning, or afternoon, and that is the moment you come out of it. I’m always very into that moment—the clouds parting sort of thing. It’s like, “meh meh meh my life is stupid and blah blah and then: hey, this piece of toast with peanut butter and honey on it is good….and…I’M A HAPPY PERSON!!”, and then all of a sudden you’re giggling and licking your fingers and shaking your butt. Bam. Mood gone.

So in honor of mood-turners, here are three things that got me feeling good yesterday:

This song:

(loved this is 5th grade; had absolutely no idea what she was talking about)

This man:

I ran into him on the street and we remembered each other from St.Patty’s day and he was again smoking a cigar which he blew in my face but it was lovely to see him and exchange such happy hello’s of recognition and feel like there are still things like neighborhoods out there. I like this North End place, I tell ya.

(Also, that coat is marvelous. As is how Rondo played on Tuesday night. And how bat-shit crazy KG is. (It’s a beautiful thing, KG’s insanity—it’s like performance art.) No, if the Celtics keep winning—and hopefully in a bit more dominating fashion…—one can never have an excuse to be crabby again.)

AND THEN, I saw this play with my friend Amy:

(A play! Plays are cool! You should see it, too! It’s in the South End! Tickets at BostonTheatreScene.com!)

And THEN I just remembered this:

(So…four things. I lied.)

Little Brady in a Patriots hat. That is my Zoloft.

Happy Thursday.


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Yay for girlfriends.

I see this scene all the time in the North End: two old Italian ladies with their grocery carts, engaged in spirited conversation on a street corner. Makes me happy, and makes me miss my college friends. Also, reminds me of this video below, which is always a mood-lifter. I would be happy if I turned into this woman (well, man…) one day.

Happy Tuesday


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Tarps=a fun time

I was walking home past the Saturday Haymarket this weekend when I saw this kid. He was trying to fit himself into a cardboard box and was struggling mightily, but he was also having a really grand time during the process. And from beneath the large grey tarp behind him, l could also hear two or three more voices laughing—kids squeeling and giggling in delight and clearly playing some sort of elaborate game. Reminded me of the days when my favorite activity was hiding in the clothing racks in T.J. Maxx and/or burying myself under the thick plastic coating of the local high school’s gigantic high jump cushion.

Kids are awesome.


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Sweet Sassy Mo-Lassy

So, my step-mother emailed me last night and…..I got a book recommendation! Hurray! (Granted, it’s not a comment on the blog, but don’t panic, I’ll still tell you what she said. She said, “read ‘Dark Tide: The Great Boston Molasses Flood of 1919.'” And I think I will. Also, did you know the flood occurred in the North End? I didn’t. I just found out from reading this Boston newspaper clipping from 1979.)

(I used to think I was pretty cool listening to this stuff when I was in 5th grade…)

Good song though.

Happy Tuesday/Happy Reading


(*image taken from http://www.myconfinedspace.com/2009/07/01/the-boston-molasses-disaster/)

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