coast to mountains

The day I leave the East Coast is the day it finally cools off to where I need more than a single sheet on me at night. It was down to about 60 which caused a moment of pause this morning as I left the house thinking I might not have packed enough layers for the mountains of Colorado. We'll see. I'm currently sitting in the Boston airport, having woken up at 3 am to take the bus from 1.5 hours south. The bus was freezing, the airport is freezing, so I am now wearing half the contents of my suitcase.

The past few days I spent on foot, for once, in the territory that is usually reserved for my cycling. My New Yorker friend JJ and I had planned to ride bikes down to swim at the beach, but it was a bit stormy, and so we did a walking tour instead of all the pretty churches, gardens and houses in Falmouth that I often pass by while on my bike. It was great to see them up close.

The plane just pulled in to the gate and unloaded, so it won't be too long. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pop a Dramamine and proceed to my torpor state for the duration of the flight.

the traffic nightmare

The traffic is really a problem around here, and people on Cape Cod say it's been even worse this year. On the 4th of July holiday it was backed up 13 miles down the highway. Just this year, they started a train running from Boston to the Cape for weekends, and it's very reasonably priced. I hope it catches on because at this point it seems people are spending as much time in their cars getting to their vacation homes as they are actually on vacation. Some of my co-workers who live off-Cape spend nearly 2 hours one way to get to or from work-- a drive that takes 20 minutes in the off-season.

I drove into a suburb of Boston today, hoping to take the commuter rail into downtown before my meeting in the evening. Well, of course due to traffic, that didn't happen. I arrived at the station just in time to see the train going by. Since it only comes through every two hours, I wouldn't be able to go into Boston and so stayed on the outskirts until my meeting. 

After two hours sitting in Barnes & Noble, I finished my current book, The Orphan Master's Son. I'll be happy to move on to a more upbeat book, even though I found a fictional story on North Korea to be fascinating. It seemed like the author really did a lot of research, especially while visiting the country.

The highlight of my day was finding a Brazilian restaurant that served feijoada. I didn't even realize that was what was spooned onto my plate until I tasted it. There was sort of a buffet, with a server, who determined the price based on "proportion" rather than weight. It was delicious, and tasted just like my mom's version, so hers must be pretty authentic. It was like comfort food to me, even though it must be strange that someone with no Portuguese or Brazilian background would feel that way, but it truly does remind me of my childhood. When I told my sister about it later this afternoon, she and I both commented that even though my mother has shared this recipe with us, it never quite turns out the same way when my sister or I make it!

the past week

I'm getting accustomed to a new house, and with that, I'm having to adjust to the internet being less available. That's alright. It's leaving me plenty of time to read real books, study up on my languages, and enjoy the outdoors. I'll have to get back into typing out blog posts offline, then pasting them like I did last summer. For now though, some photos.

The trio of young geese are still hovering around the museum grounds. They follow anyone, which mostly ends up more along the lines of chasing everyone. We have tried herding, but you physically have to shove them along to steer them back to the pond-- most stubborn! These are not my mother's ducks.

 I was playing Mama Goose here, as you can tell.

 walking after work one day, when it was still foggy from rain

 I love coming home to these five sheep. They always greet you with 

a loud bahhh! The lightest brown one is the friendliest and always comes up looking for something to eat, or a rub on its patch of forehead wool.

 And of course, Woods Hole, my favorite!