Last night, as we rolled in the new year, I was thinking back on the good things that had happened in 2015, and Boston was one of the best. Last Spring, my husband told me that we were going somewhere in July, that I’d like it, and he wasn’t telling me where to until we were on our way. With some careful hints provided, I surmised which quadrant of our country we’d be visiting (key for what to pack for this Florida girl who needs a sweater at roughly 68 degrees), and that I didn’t need to pack anything dressy.

So off we went one Wednesday morning last July, delightfully en route to MIA with two carry-on bags in tow. I still didn’t know where we were going. But then I got a text message as we headed down I95, and there was the answer in all of its bold-type glory: American Airlines was texting me to inform me that my flight from MIA to BOS was on time. Boston! We’re headed to Boston! Cool! I’ve never been!

It was perfect timing, too. My 15-year-old was headed to Boston that day also, but on a different flight and with his Boy Scout troop, where they would ultimately caravan to Maine for a much anticipated summer canoeing and camping high adventure trip. And, in an unprecedented move, I had allowed my 17-year-old to fly to a small town in Pennsylvania with one of his best buddies, Riley, to visit with Riley’s family. So with my boys in the capable and trustworthy hands of Scout leaders and Pennsylvania grandparents, I knew that they were safe and happy and life was good. Hubby and I were free to roam about. Boston, here we come!

My husband, of champagne taste, had booked us a nice room at a beautiful, old brick, kind of fancy hotel in the Seaport district. It didn’t take us long to change out of our flight clothes and walk down to the wharf, where we settled in at a super little waterfront bar and grill, ordered a local craft beer and a fish sandwich from our patio table, and planned our next few days. Breathe in the salt air. Exhale.

 

Being the planner that I am and usually knowing exactly where/when/how before I get to any destination, this trip, being a surprise, did not allow me to pre-mastermind. I was a little out of my comfort zone. But, guess what? It turned out to be the absolute best and most relaxing vacation ever, and I feel like we did and saw exactly what we would have done and seen had we pre-planned. Lesson learned: Just go with the flow and it all turns out okay! Let it go!

The reason my husband brought me to Boston (surprise!!) was to attend the Peter Frampton and Cheap Trick concert that weekend, and also (more surprises!!) to attend the Bryan Adams Reckless 30th Anniversary concert that very night! I was overjoyed, to say the least. Peter Frampton, Bryan Adams, and I go way, way back! I like Cheap Trick, and they were a bonus to me, along for the ride with Peter Frampton. Conveniently, our lovely hotel was within walking distance of the harborfront outdoor ampitheater, our seats were within the first few rows of the stage, and I actually caught a few guitar pics thrown into the audience by the Cheap Trick guy, which I excitedly saved for my 15-year-old who is taking guitar lessons and had caught a few of his own guitar pics at a Cheap Trick concert once.

In between the concerts, we enjoyed Boston to the fullest. What a beautiful, wonderful city! We picked up some touristy guide books, walked to the metro station and bought passes, then tooled around Boston for the entire long weekend, drawing on our free spirits and using public transportation and our feet to get from Point A to Point B.

We walked the Freedom Trail. Wow. That was a fascinating, full day event as we followed the 2.5-mile red brick path through the city, starting at Boston Commons and ending at the USS Constitution. In between, we visited Paul Revere’s house, Sam Adams’ grave, Faneuil Hall, Old North Church, home of the “one if by land, two if by sea” lantern signals, the plain Puritan’s church, the majestic State House, and more. This walking tour brought history to life and we thoroughly enjoyed the day.

 

Duly noting that Paul Revere’s house was near Little Italy, and always visiting Little Italy in any and every town we go to, we made our way back toward Paul’s house, selected a restaurant from an abundance of choices, and enjoyed a scrumptious and oversized gnocchi and lasagna dinner with house Chianti served by a lucky someone’s Italian auntie.

Another afternoon was spent at the Sam Adams Brewery for a free tour and beer tasting. We took the metro to a station in a somewhat suburban area, then walked a half mile or so to the brewery, perched on top of a hill and kind of obscure, but full of beer-drinking life. Oh for the love of beer! After the necessary tour of the brewing tanks and after learning all I will ever need to know about hops, malt and barley, we were taken to a tasting room for the prize, pitcher after pitcher after pitcher of different brews that we shared with three other couples, each brew proudly presented by an exuberant 20-something who had quit college to pursue his passion for beer. It was a grand time and we were properly sauced. No surprise here, but we were then herded into the gift shop. Ha ha. It was an eventful shopping experience.

 

We exited the gift shop and hopped onto a trolley that was headed to a pub. That’s all we knew: There was a trolley and it was headed to a pub. We got on. This was a very special red trolley with a disco ball, a stripper pole, and Micheal Jackson music blaring at ear-splitting volume, piloted by an entertaining trolley driver with a megaphone who missed his calling as an actor. He brought us to Doyle’s Cafe, a pub dating back to 1882 and home of a beautiful, handcrafted woodwork bar with stained glass artwork, abundant taps, and a delicious lobster roll sandwich. After indulging then settling down a little, we found a bus station that took us to a metro station that took us back to the metro station by our swanky hotel at the Seaport.

 

 

One of my favorite days was spent in beautiful little Salem. We got up early to catch a train that took us to Salem, about 40 minutes away. Once there, we happened upon a famous landmarky breakfast place and inexplicably scored the best seat in the house, in a little window alcove with great people-watching potential.

We rode in a trolley tour to get an idea of what was around, then settled in at the Salem Witch Museum where we watched a very well done presentation and explanation of the Salem witches and witch trials. We toured Nathaniel Hawthorne’s famous, gorgeous House of Seven Gables and vowed to read the book.

By three o’clock in the afternoon, we were sitting at a waterfront restaurant checking out their beer list. That’s the best part about vacations…our only task at hand was to peruse the menu and to take in the view, and then ultimately to walk the few blocks to the station by 6:00 for the last train back to Boston. Easy. Carefree. Peaceful.

 

The concerts were great, the city was fabulous, and our time there was relaxing and fun and memorable. Planning a surprise trip like that is probably one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for me, and I appreciated and relished every single minute of my husband’s heartfelt efforts. By Sunday night, we were home and so were the boys, all within a few hours of each other. My 17-year-old enjoyed the woods and waterfalls in the small Pennsylvania town of Riley’s grandparents, my 15-year-old enjoyed his canoe trip and Maine lobster feasts with the Scouts, and we certainly enjoyed our stay in Boston. That long weekend in July was definitely one of the best parts of 2015 for all of us!

 

What was lovely about today: The pork roast, potatoes and sauerkraut slow-cooking in the crockpot is the loveliest thing about today, I think. What’s better on the first day of the new year than to smell dinner cooking all day long as I pack away the remnants of Christmas 2015, reflect on the year past, and look forward to all the great things that 2016 is going to bring?