Boston, Wide Awake

But today I'm awake and walking these old streets for real, revisiting the spots that are special to me. My husband proposed marriage on the Swan Boats in the Public Garden, as quackers that came straight out of the children's classic, Make Way for Ducklings, paddled by. My son celebrated his fifth birthday on the Frog Pond ice rink on the Boston Common (natives call it "the Commons"). Every block, it seems, has a memory attached to it.

Much has changed in the years I've been away from Boston, but plenty remains the same. I'm still tempted by the flower stand in front of the Old South Meetinghouse, the place where a colonial street mob activated a plan to dump British tea in the harbor. And I can smell that harbor, right on cue, as soon as I reach the Old Statehouse -- a tiny brick miniature holding its own against glass-and-steel giants.

They call this 2.5 mile chain of 16 historic sites the Freedom Trail. To spend two or three hours walking the brick-paved trail -- or maybe the whole day -- is to experience America's birth and toddlerhood. You can do as much or as little of this self-guided tour as you wish, detouring at will to shop or savor a restaurant. My only advice is that which is always given by true Bostonians: Wear comfortable shoes and carry an umbrella.

Getting to this quintessentially American city is fast and almost luxurious. Boston is served by Amtrak's fabulous Acela Express, a Northeast Corridor train that reaches up to 150 miles per hour on its route from Washington D.C. through Philadelphia and New York City. Catering to business travelers, the train's coaches feature wider-than-airplane seats, all the plugs you need to run your gadgets, and if you wish it, at-your-seat meal service.

For the purposes of this adventure, disembark at Back Bay Station and walk several blocks north to Newbury Street. Then turn right and head for the Public Gardens (which locals prefer to call the Public Garden). Both this landscaped oasis and the one beyond it, the Commons, have been great spots for strolling and people-watching for as long as Bostonians have said "pahk" instead of park.

The real time-travel begins, however, when you enter the maze of dark and narrow streets that characterize downtown Boston. There is a historically significant museum, church, meetinghouse, or burying ground at virtually every corner along the Freedom Trail. People such as Benjamin Franklin, Paul Revere, and Abigail Adams lived, made history, and died here. Events such as the founding of the first schoolhouse and the firing of the first shots of the Revolutionary War took place here, and only blocks apart. If you like your American history dense-packed, this is the place to experience it.

If you're smart, you'll arrange to reach Faneuil Hall Marketplace at a good time to eat. Also known as Quincy Market -- what is it with these Bostonians and names? -- this centuries-old market building offers dozens of delectable food choices. You can sit down and sample authentic colonial fare at Durgin Park, such as scrod (a whitefish), clam chowder, and Indian pudding (it's cornmeal-based). With the food at Durgin Park you get guff, lots of it, courtesy of what may be world's most humorously insulting wait staff. But if time's not on your side, you'll want to skip the sit-down meal and check out the takeout options in the main hall. This, folks, is the food court that all other food courts aspire to be when they grow up.

From this point on the Freedom Trail, it's only a short walk to the waterfront. Before the infamous Big Dig put a major freeway underground, getting to the harbor required a dark, noisy walk under an elevated roadway called the Central Artery. Now it's a pleasant jaunt across a reclaimed greenway, terminating at Christopher Columbus Waterfront Park, a lovely spot for surveying the boats moored at Commercial Wharf.

If you've lucked into good weather you can eat your lunch here, or take it along the curve of the harbor toward the New England Aquarium and stake out a bench. Better still, in the summer, you can buy a ticket for the so-called lunch cruise and enjoy your repast while touring the harbor. For those who want to see one of the Freedom Trail's farthest-flung attractions, the USS Constitution, aka "Old Ironsides," here's a time-saving tip: The lunch cruise affords you an opportunity to see the old wooden ship, albeit at a distance, without the walking.

Your afternoon choices are many: Visit the aquarium, or grab a cab and check out the Boston Children's Museum or the Boston Tea Party Ship and Museum. You really can't miss. But today I'm capping my day in the Italian North End. Here you can wrap up your Freedom Trail experience with a tour of Paul Revere's house and a stop at the white-steepled church where Revere hung his lanterns.

Still, it's the European atmosphere of the North End I love the most. It's the old men on the street who look up from their playing cards to nod solemnly. It's the schoolkids lined up to buy hot slices from a basement pizzeria. It's the rowdy, raunchy fruit vendors at Haymarket, where cheap, past-prime produce is stacked high on the stands and, by the end of the day, squished underfoot.

I make my last stop Hanover Street, the North End's Main Street. I have a plan. I'll get to Mike's Pastry before it closes and buy one each of the two things I can't do without -- cannolli (pastry tubes filled with sweet ricotta) and la Sflogliatella, a cream horn shaped like a lobster tail. Then I'll shop a bit at the variety stores, ogle the cheese markets, and as the darkness falls, sniff the aroma of the bakeries starting to work on the next day's bread.

Then, as the merchants begin to pull the metal sliding doors over their display windows, I'll claim my table at Caffe Paradiso. There are many wonderful restaurants in the North End, but this is one of the oldest and best-loved. I'll order the Calabrese and save room for a tiny espresso, but resist the homemade gelato.

My pastries will make it back to the hotel, but just barely. On the T, which is what the trolley and subway system in Boston is called, I'll nibble first at the cannolli, then the lobstertail, and limit myself to just another bite or two of each. More would be much too much to sleep on -- especially when they're so very good with breakfast coffee.

Ellen Wojahn is an award-winning journalist and travel writer based in the Pacific Northwest.

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