So for Columbus Day (yes I'm a bit behind on posting) we decided to get away from the ol' homework factory. We went to the North End, basically the Italian district of Boston and man was it great. Its like a little slice of Italy but without that Italy smell of fumes escaping the medeival sewar system. We were walking down the first little street and we saw these three mafiosi looking guys crossing the road in front of us. I said to Amanda, who was walking at here usual professional speewalker pace, "let's slow down so we can follow these guys." So we waited for them to cross over to our side of the street. Between the three of them they must have been wearing about 50k in clothing and accessories. We followed behind them and tried to listen to what they were talking about, I know it was painful for Amanda because they were walking at the usual super-slow wise guy pace. Anyway, they all went into this little bar, and as soon as they walked in everybody in the place stood up. Later we walked through a little back alley and we saw an open door with a sign that said private club. I could here a lot of guys in their talking in Amercanized sicillian and I decided we had better walk faster so we wouldn't wind up like Spider in Goodfellas.
We ate a great resaurant called antico forno, I had the sort of heavy sausage, cheese, and cream sauce laden baked pasta that makes Italy a really great place. It was also the sort of meal I always feared but could not resist on a hot day as a missionary. You would get done eating and then break into a cold sweat just from the energy required to stay conscious. Then we would go out proselyting and it felt like I was going to fall through the sidewalk.
But I digress...
It was a great meal. We had walked past this one corner store before lunch and there was this old Italian dude sitting in a lawn chair about a quarter of the way out into the road. Later we walked by and this other old guy had set up an identical chair halfway into the road. They were just sitting in the middle of the road arguing about politics and such, asserting their right as old Italian men to have a heated dsicussion wherever they felt like...the cars just drove around them. Now that's Italian!