Featured writer: The Truth Should Be Free

I returned from Boston less than 24 hours ago with a light heart. Bean Town is a small city with enough history to keep you from losing interest. It’s that colonial charm that gets you to stick around in this nitty, gritty city.

My friend and I strolled past the marathon finish line just hours before it was blown up by two bombs on April 15, 2013. But this post is not about me. It’s about the people who are total badasses and ran a marathon. The ones that died or got injured. The ones that ran to the hospital to give blood instead of finishing the race. The ones that helped make the situation less terrible.

Like many media moguls have noted today, it’s important to only report what you know. We still don’t know what–or who–set the bombs off, and the JFK library explosion is unrelated. Props to the brave people. You never know when a passerby will turn into a martyr.

Before speculating about the nature of bombs, there was a Tea Party rally in Boston Common. Directly across from the picket signs was a Meetup group for teenage fans of a webcomic called Homestuck. Their outlandish outfits and bizarre behavior made us double over with laughter.

Next, we followed the Freedom Trail marked on the sidewalk to learn more about Boston’s colonial history. We joined in on two tour groups-one was American, the other French-Canadian. Although both of us speak French, the Montreal accent really threw us for a loop. Still, it was cool to hear the story in two different ways. Sam Adams’ grave and the Paul Revere House were the highlights of the path.

It was a bit chilly, so we stopped in near Quincy Market and saw a man on stilts outside the building. Weaving through the crowd, we made our rounds inside the wooden food hall. After a fruit smoothie, it was time to see a comedy show at the Wilbur Theatre.

Although the venue was freezing cold, Gary Gulman warmed us up with some serious knee-slappers.

After the show, we jaunted over to the North End for some authentic Italian cuisine at Ristorante Fiore. What an incredibly delicious meal that was.

With the rising sun came new sights to see. We headed back in to Boston from Medford on the T (quite possibly the slowest public transportation system I’ve ever been on) and visited the Institute of Contemporary Art. This beautiful building borders the pier and boasts a background of seagulls and ship sails.

The Barry McGhee exhibit features street art and collective collaboration–two huge pluses in my book.

After getting some culture, we dined on crabby snacks at the Barking Lobster. Not wanting to waste the day sitting inside, we stopped off at Harvard Square on the way back to Medford. Walking around campus, I got the impression that I was in a casual British book. With its cobblestone streets and quaint shopfronts, Harvard Square is a blast from the past. The one thing I did notice was that none of the buildings I saw had ivy on them. So much for Ivy League !

The moral of my Boston adventure is that you can feel foreign anywhere. Whether you’re in Sumatra or somewhere downstate, people and places can seem weird and unfriendly. Luckily, Boston and its inhabitants made me glad I came to visit this historical haven. Even the rocking chairs at Logan International Airport added just the right touch of settler-inspired decoration. I can’t wait to go back to Bean Town !