Following the Freedom Trail in Boston

Boston was soggy and my shoes were crap. The forecasted showers turned into a massive waterfall from the sky. Lightning struck and thunder rumbled through the flooded streets. I became certain that any moment we would spot families rafting towards the aquarium, which I was convinced was drier than outside. Seattle knows rain. Seattle lives rain. But Boston… well they could flood Seattle. In any case, the floodgates did little to thwart me and my laundry list of sightseeing.

Dan and I were determined to map out the events which triggered the Colonies eventual independence from British rule. When pondering U.S. history (which I do all the time, right?), I often considered Washington, DC to be the hot seat for political activity, but many of the greatest steps towards liberty took place right within the city streets of Boston.

Don’t believe me? Well I am not about bore you with a history lesson, because honestly I would fall asleep writing such tedious details, but if any of the following ring a bell, you have the rebellious rabble-rousing Bostonians to thank:

Do events such as the Battle of Bunker Hill, The Boston Massacre, Paul Revere’s famous ride, and the Boston Tea Party sound familiar? Or perhaps the names Samuel Adams, John Hancock, and Benjamin Franklin spark your interest? If I haven’t caught your attention yet, maybe you’ve heard of Harvard or MIT? No?! Well, then, just look at the pictures.

So it was that Dan and I found ourselves navigating the streets of Boston on the famed Freedom Trail, a red bricked path winding throughout the city highlighting historically significant sights along the colonists’ road to independence. Fair warning, my recollections of said Freedom Trail are slightly hazy. Between a semi-conscious red-eye flight, loads of caffeine consumption, and nearly fatal amounts of Italian food it felt like I was waltzing through the psychedelic worlds of Sgt. Pepper and I was Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. That being said, you will have to forgive me if I let the photos do most of the talking.

The Freedom Trail runs 2.5 miles long and begins at the Boston Common. Here we took in the commanding presence of the Massachusetts State House sitting atop Beacon Hill.

The trail continued to the Granary Burying Ground, the final resting place of many notable patriots. Here tour groups were led around by colonial clad guides spouting witty commentary about the famed buried below. I couldn’t decide which was more disrespectful: my taking photographs or their comical antics.

We made a quick stop at Old City Hall. Everyone deserves some self-indulgent glamour shots so we of course practiced our poses.

Onward we went to the Old South Meeting House where the colonists first protested the British Stamp Act and whose ruckus eventually led to the Boston Tea Party.

Just around the corner we took in the striking contrast of the Old State House dwarfed by the presence of the imposing skyscrapers above. Here Bostonians were first read the Declaration of Independence. A cobbled path out front marked the sight of the Boston Massacre where the first blood was shed in the American fight for independence.

The trail then led us around Fanueil Marketplace towards Paul Revere’s House. Paul Revere was most noted for his famous horseback ride to warn the colonists of advancing British forces. Although no photos were allowed, the square out front was rustic and charming.

Wandering on along the trail we discovered a touching memorial to fallen soldiers near Copp’s Hill Burying Ground.

We then finished our tour of the Freedom Trail by crossing the bridge into the neighborhood of Charlestown where the Battle of Bunker Hill was faught.

By this point all the walking and rain and ill-fitting shoes left me angry and bitter, not to mention hungry. I was so annoyed that I was about ready to strangle Dan for having the hiccups. I knew the only way to calm my soul and that involved a long walk back to the North End Italian district where I devoured a plate of gnocchi pasta smothered with cheese and sauce. I left completely satisfied and not at all displeased with the fact that my feet were swimming in water within my shoes as we traversed the flooding streets back to our cozy abode.
Walking back I imagined the colonists fighting their way to freedom in the streets flooding with water. I bet the Sons of Liberty and crusading colonists never complained and I am almost positive their shoes were more uncomfortable than mine. The next morning I put my soggy shoes back on and kept my mouth shut.