On the Esplanade

Yesterday, I had a merry afternoon along the Boston Esplanade. The green stretch of wonderland where one can strangely fell in love with living in the city has always posed a strong appeal to me. There are fond memories of a sweet time spent on the Esplanade - a brief moment of undiluted friendship and affection.

Yes, yesterday was indeed a mild day along the Esplanade. Somewhat windy, the late afternoon wandered off into a mellow dusk leaving the wind behind. I took my Canon with for a few shots of the city. What sheer joy it was to put superb equipment to good use. I hope it was good use, for I am not the world's most gifted photographer. But sometimes equipment are blessed with the knack of making one look quite the part.


Even the ducks agreed - rather domesticated ducks, I may add. They seemed not to have a worry in the world. But then, for ducks living in beautiful Boston, why should they? Lazing on a Saturday afternoon, that' s what every self-respecting duck should do, now don't they?


A little sail boat fell foul of the mischievous wind. I happened upon its brief encounter with the quay, which encounter mildly alarmed some casual past-timers who were baking in the late afternoon sun.

The poor little boat got more lost, the wind relentlessly driving it ashore into a little side bay between the quay and the land proper. The captain seemed rather incapable of controlling the sails. Instead of lowering them, he refused to admit defeat. It was quite unclear whether anyone on board had much savvy with sailing in strong winds. There was no apparent attempt to tack the boat out of the compromising spot. The level of wind was certainly no playing mate for learning to tack any sort of sail boat.







Lo and behold, the Charles River Coast Guard, coutesy of the local Sailing Club, came to the rescue. Quickly the sail boat's captain lowered the sails - something that could have been done quite safely earlier but I suppose this was as safe a spot for that maneouver as any.


And off they went - sail boat on tow.



I wandered on. My sail boat was donning small sails. It was Easter weekend and no rush anywhere. My thoughts went to my mother having her birthday. It's on weekends such as this one that I'd rather be back home than here in a foreign country. Yet, the mellowness of the afternoon and the beauty of the surroundings pampered my mood and put a smile on my face.

The Hancock was as always taunting and teasing me from every angle. It's just always there, in all its mysterious simplicity. I cannot refuse, I have to take photographs of it. The building pulls me like a magnet.

My stroll took my on a path across the Longfellow bridge. Every time, when I take the tube into Boston, the train stops on this bridge at the Charles Station. For a short time one can see the most beautiful view of Boston from the bridge. And I always tell myself to take a walk across this bridge at least once in my life. Well, I did that yesterday.


Dusk had always been to me the most beautiful time of day. Boston from the Long fellow bridge is no exception. The City glowed in a soft glimmer of the dying sun. The Canon had a feast. There were moments when I could almost imagine being in Europe, along the northern shore of the Mediterranean.


The aeroplanes went by relentlessly, leaving their vapour trails in a hopeful reminder that home is a 17h flight away. How I love to watch the vapour trails. Maybe one day, my dice will roll and my plane end up in bits and pieces on BBC World News, but until then, those vapour trails are my magic carpets home.