Alright, alright!!

cos-mo-post-al-an [koz-muh-postal-en]: adjective/noun
1. a person
who belongs to all the world; not limited to just one part of the world; can make their home anywhere in the world.
2. a person who believes fully that postage stamps and mail connect the world, regardless of where, from or to, they go.
3. the joyful experience of knowing you're a local because your mail made it to its destination

The postage stamp is truly wonderful. It can travel the world, experience the lives of a million different people, go through the doors of strangers; and never once lose sight of where it's headed.
Welcome to the land of cosmopostalan : travel, mail and words. It's a crazy little place in my corner of the woods; wherever that may be!

Monday, April 2, 2012

In search of Henrietta...

Destination: Harvard Square, Boston MA [U.S.A.]

This weekend, my travels took me into the sprawling city of Boston, Massachusetts, where I ventured into the college capital with a friend of mine in an attempt to locate a restaurant.
It proved harder than we had orignally anticipated.

Trains and public transport are absolutely VITAL in cities. This weekend, I caught six trains (one of which was headed in the opposite direction to our destination) and spent a grand total of six dollars (USD). Deep in the underground, the sights and sounds (and scents) are unbelievably unlike that of the surface, and I felt that this fact was greatly illuminated by many "T-Stations" that my travel companion, J, and I ventured through on Saturday.
For one, the darkness was disconcerting. Not a sunny day to begin with, the underground made it feel like we were located on some sort of Middle-Earth movie set, aided by the various barricaded tunnels (complete with several lightbulbs dangling from their ceilings, suggesting that they reached on and on until the heat of the core of the Earth was felt, or one reached Arkansas) and sneaky-looking, grey-suited businessmen. Despite it's eerie feel, the Boston train system is wonderfully efficent. Trains come and go on a minute basis, and if you catch the wrong train (like we did), you can manage to get to wherever you please without a second thought. The "Charlie Card" service is superbly reliable, and makes it super easy to fill up, jump on and go.
So we did.
Once we reached the surface, off the train, gulping for air and slightly freaked out by multiple on-train experiences, the ancient architecture of Boston hit me like a ray of sun. It took a lot of me to not grapple at the Harvard buildings and use a crayon to rub off some of the inscriptions. J, a Boston native, was our guide, but her lack of map skills left us traipsing around Boston -- without complaint. It made it more of an adventure.
Harvard Square, a quaint little part of town full of college kids, great restaurants, artsy shops and tourists, was bustling with activity, seperating J and I on multiple occasions. Our aim was to go to a restaurant at The Charles Hotel, called Henrietta's Table. We circled Harvard Square three times before we began to lose hope -- until we saw the familar building on the horizon (and then realised we had walked past it twice). Once we entered inside, the restaurant was fully booked. Our option was to sit at the bar, or jump on out -- and based on the line forming behind us and the tired look on the hostess' face, we were required to "pick quick".
So, instead, we ventured back to the tiny-laned road and decided to pick a place that took our fancy from the street.

And then we found Leo's Place.

A cute little diner nestled on a side street, Leo's Place hit the spot for both of us: it was able to fulfil J's all-day-breakfast request, and offered a burger with extra pickles which sold it for me.
We had found the haven.
And after two hours of wandering, a glass of water and salty pickle never tasted quite so good! Run by a man and a woman, and a solo guy in the corner who was barely visible behind a wooden half-wall at the end of the bar, the process of creation and consumption was perfected down to a tee. Warm and accompained by quiet jazz music and a man with a mustache behind the counter, Leo's Place made it feel like we were located in a different part of the world entirely.
It was very soothing.

And while Leo himself wasn't "in the building", the pleasant and congenial atmosphere of his diner made it feel like we were surrounded by life-long friends.

Oh, and J had her french toast breakfast -- at 3.07pm.

Next stop--
                 ~ Ms. Always Traveling

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Thank you for your lovely postal ponderings!
May today be a beautiful, full-of-mail kind-of day!
~ Ms. Always Traveling