After taking the dogs on a hike in the middle of West Bumfuck the other day, we figured we'd take the dogs on a hike in East Bumfuck. Or Boston. Stanley immediately found a fountain in Boston Common by Park Street and tried to eat the leaves floating inside it.
We figured we'd walk them along the Freedom Trail, a 3-mile tour of some of the more historic sites in Boston. For instance, this is where criminals are housed.
The trail winds through the Government Center area and the Financial District, where old buildings mingle with new ones.
From there it takes you into the North End, the Italian neighborhood. The whole place smells like tomato sauce and pastry, which drove Nik crazy since she can't eat any bread or pasta, or anything available there within a 20-block radius.
The trail is lovely and cozy in the autumn, since everything's made of brick and iron. It's like one giant fireplace.
The trail crosses the Charles River into Charlestown, once its own town but now a beautiful and quiet and historic neighborhood of Boston. It's not like the other neighborhoods -- it's only stinking rich instead of filthy stinking rich. (The brick path there is the Freedom Trail itself, woven into the landscape rather nicely.)
The trail ends at the Bunker Hill monument in Charlestown, which commemorates the Revolutionary War's Battle of Bunker Hill. We kicked ass that day, boy! By "we" I mean "they," since my ancestors had nothing to do with it. My kin were at the time still in Portugal dying of tapeworm infections and trying to feed a family of five with one egg. But never mind.