Globe Corner Blogs

Iceland --photo by Lisa

I am absurdly excited  about the upcoming Viking Invasion of Boston. From March 11-17,  Boston will be hosting A Taste of Iceland. This festival of Icelandic culture and entertainment is bringing Icelandic musicians, DJs, acclaimed chefs, and a film festival to various venues in and around Boston in celebration of all things Icelandic…and Icelandair’s non-stop service to Reykjavik. You can even enter a drawing to win a trip to Reykjavik! The full schedule of events can be found at the “Iceland Naturally” website.

Certain staff members of the Globe Corner have already expressed their love for all things Icelandic: from the delicious and addictive Skyr, Arnaldur Indridason’s Inspector Erlendur Series, and The Blue Lagoon (a geothermal spa) to the always interesting Iceland Airwaves Music Festival. We’re so excited about the festival that we’re taking 15% off all books about and maps of Iceland through March 17th. And as an extra bonus,  Icelandic singer Ólöf Arnalds will be dropping by the store on Saturday, March 13th at 4:30 p.m. to play a few songs for us!

For the last many, many weeks, the most traveling I’ve done is walking home from work. Night falls early in Boston, so on my walk the sky is always as black as a sky can be that hangs over a big city.

Nonetheless, the streetlights never fail to illumine some small wonder. A while ago, after it had rained all day, I walked home in a foul mood, staring at the ground. When I looked up to cross the street, I saw the trees glistening. Each branch on every tree was covered in evenly spaced drops of water. The street lights behind them shone through like giant white orbs held aloft by the dripping trees.

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Red Maple --photo by Llalan

The other day, cooped up in my room, computer on, windows closed and thermal, black-out-style curtains drawn, I realized I felt rightfully trapped. I rolled across the floor in my desk chair and folded back a small corner of my curtain. Blinded! The sun was out and singing loudly in a bright blue, cloudless sky.

It occurred to me that I might feel less claustrophobic, anxious, antsy, and frankly depressed if I got out of my dark cube of a room. After all, Mom had said as much when I talked to her on the phone earlier that day, and she’s always right.

So I swapped out the slippers for some sneakers and grabbed my point-and-shoot just in case anything caught my eye. And then I got lost.

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The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao --by Junot Diaz

I have ticked off another box on my Writering Life List (…like birding, but with authors).

Junot Diaz was sitting across from me on the subway the other morning. I was on my way to work, so it was early; I feared my senses were still blurry from having just woken. But there was really no mistaking it. Having seen his picture everywhere when our friends at Harvard Book Store hosted a reading with him, I was familiar with that stubble, that hairline (or lack thereof), those glasses, and that peculiarly frowning mouth. It was him.

Did I go up him and tell him how much I loved Oscar Wao? Of course not! Would you casually saunter up to a pileated woodpecker if you spotted one and tell him how brilliantly red his crest was? Of course not! Most writers are known to be solitary creatures, skittish at the sight of fans clutching books to their chests, grinning shyly, practicing softly under their breath how to say, “I’ve been the biggest fan for…” without sounding like that guy.

So no, I did not bother him. Besides, he was reading.

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A New England Autumn by Ferenc Mate

Today, it is fall in Boston. Perhaps not on the calendar, but certainly in the air. The crickets of late-summer have stopped their song. The sky is low and gray. The local Farmer’s Market was full of crisp apples and fat heirloom tomatoes. Chrysanthemums are blooming and the leaves on the trees have turned dull in preparation for their brilliant costume change.

Autumn is a dressy affair in New England. When the trees finally do put on their finest, people migrate north en mass to drive the Kancamagus Highway or even hike the Long Trail in Vermont. I myself am looking forward to fresh apple cider, apple pie, apple cobbler, and those sugary maple candies they make in cute shapes.

Until then, I watch the skies darken further and hope the rain doesn’t pull down the leaves prematurely. And I rejoice in the excuse to wear sweatshirts and curl up inside reading all day.

Unmapped Boston

A wall map of Boston titled “Unmapped Boston,” which delineates every neighborhood, subway line, and major thoroughfare in the city, has been getting a lot of attention lately. …And we’ve got them!

In a Boston Globe article from July, the map is featured with a few other artistic interpretations of Boston in map form. Soon thereafter we had hordes of customers coming into the store, clutching crinkled clips of newspaper, putting in order after order for the map. Since it seemed so popular, we thought we ought to tell everybody why it was special.

Why then, you ask? For one, it’s the only wall map-like map of Boston we have or even know of. Secondly, it’s great for getting an idea of where the neighborhoods actually lay in relation to the transit systems and to each other. Lastly, it’s just cool looking; it is, after all, a work of art.

So, if you want something informative, stylish, and Boston-y for your wall that’s not about the Red Sox, come on in and take a closer look or visit the artist’s website.

Unidentified Flowering Tree--photo by Llalan

After over three months of riding home on sweltering subways tucked under a stranger’s sweaty armpit, elbowing my way over simmering sidewalks between armies of tourists in mirrored sunglasses, and sticking to La Brea-like tar while waiting for egregiously late buses,  I needed a break. Hailing from the corn fields of the Midwest, I wither away under the glare of glass skyscrapers and blinking neon.  Without a car, the choices seemed limited. I could go to Boston Common and pretend not to notice the necking teenagers and muttering homeless. I could wedge myself between sunbathers on the Charles River bank and laugh at the runners. Or I could sit in the mini front garden of a Beacon Hill home when I thought no one would be home.

Fortunately I found there was a better way to get my seasonal dose of Vitamin Green: Boston’s Arnold Arboretum. At the end of the Orange subway line lays 14 acres of dignified oaks, poky spruces, ancient bonsai, wispy silk trees, and everything else in between that I couldn’t identify. The paved paths that wind through the Arboretum are not only a great place to identify plants, but also an ideal people- and dog-watching spot (by which I mean rambunctious children with training wheels and puppies who can’t believe so many trees exist in the world). Continue Reading »

Boston BikeMap by Rubel BikeMaps

Each day I bike a very modest distance to work: a straight shot down Mt. Auburn Street – no turns and few stops. Thanks to recently installed city bike racks, nine times out of ten I can “park” directly outside the store’s door, and there’s even a bike lane on our block to ease my transition from street to sidewalk. In short, no fuss, no muss.

So, while I admittedly do not have use for a bike map on a daily basis, I still find Boston’s BikeMap, published by Rubel BikeMaps, to be a useful and remarkably well researched guide to biking in and around Boston (i.e. Brookline, Watertown, Somerville, Lexington, and more).

Here’s a brief list of features I’ve found to be particularly handy:

- All area bike shops are starred in red on the map and then indexed with addresses and phone numbers.

- Contour lines based on USGS topographic maps show hilly areas (aka, areas to avoid when already tired).

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Lake Rescue, Vermont--photo by Jess

For better or worse, I’ve spent a good hunk of time touring the New England region in the past couple months. I’ve taken the train to coastal Connecticut, the commuter rail to the North Shore of Boston, the train to New York City, and I’ve driven to southern Vermont, northern New Jersey, and Hartford, Conn. For lack of more exotic travel dispatches, here is some advice on traveling not-so-far from home:

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The Islands of Boston Harbor by Edward Rowe Snow

The day was Sunday, and my parents were on their way. They have visited me many times in Boston, but before there was always a school event already planned for us.  What was I to do this time?  Where would I take them?  The idea of going to the Museum of Dirt again popped into my head, but then I realized I needed an appointment.  This was my dilemma.  Whenever my parents come to Boston we have to go do something. Why, you might ask?  Because I live in a disgusting house with eight other people, and I know that they don’t even want to come in. This is why I need an event for them at all times when they come to visit.

The Boston Harbor Cruise was the event of the day.  I had never been, and neither had my family.  Since it was such a gorgeous day and we all enjoy boating, it seemed like the proper choice.  So off we went on this historic cruise: a cruise of islands, forts, sewage treatment plants, and abandoned buildings.

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