Monday, May 28, 2012

The North End





Sounds like a funny title if you are not from around this area. I mentioned the North End to a co worker (who by the way is from Chicago) last week and he had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. 

The North End, often called Boston's "Little Italy," is a one-square-mile waterfront community, bordered by Commercial and Causeway Streets and Atlantic Avenue, located within walking distance of Boston's financial district and Government Center. 

If you have never been to Massachusetts, it really is a wonderful place to visit between the capital city of Boston, rich in history of our country to the Berkshire mountains in the far western part of the state, that are part of the Appalachian trail. 

I have lived all my life here in Massachusetts and unfortunately don't always take advantage of what this state has to offer. I guess I have always had the mind set...it will be there tomorrow. So we decided that it would be a good time to focus on tomorrow. We planned a day trip into the city, and planned everything in and around the North End.

Our day started off bright and early at the USS Constitution also known as Old Ironsides. 
USS Constitution is the oldest commissioned warship afloat in the world. It was first launched in 1797. Constitution is one of six ships ordered for construction by George Washington to protect America's growing maritime interests. The ships greatest glory came during the war of 1812 when she defeated four British frigates which earned her the nickname "Old Ironsides," because cannon balls glanced off her thick hull. 







For more information about the USS Constitution go to : http://www.history.navy.mil/ussconstitution/

Our next stop was Copp's  Hill Burying Ground. It is Boston's second oldest burying ground. It was first founded in 1659 as Windmill Hill. The area was named after shoemaker William Copp who once owned the land.
Thousands of artisans, craftspeople, and merchants are buried on the Hill. Because of its height, (the highest point in the North End)the British used this vantage point to train their cannons on Charlestown during the Battle of Bunker Hill in 1775.




We then walked past the Old North Church, with every intention on seeing it on the way back...sadly it didn't happen. Now we have an excuse to go back! And we will!! 




The poem that tells the story of how the Old North Church became famous
The Midnight Ride By Paul Revere- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.
He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street
Wanders and watches, with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town
And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,--
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns.

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, black and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadow brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British Regulars fired and fled,---
How the farmers gave them ball for ball, 

From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
Chasing the redcoats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,---
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.


Next stop Paul Revere's house.  We were able to take a tour inside, and after we were done we were famished.



One thing about the North End...you can get some really fantastic food, or you can get some good commercialized food. I suggest going off the beaten path to a small restaurant and enjoying every bite. We chose Artu a small trattoria, and the food was unbelievable. My younger boys got pizza, my oldest and my husband got ravioli and I decided on the Gamberi  Arrabiata (angry shrimp...angry meaning spicy) everything was fantastic. Thank You Artu !
www.artuboston.com

No trip to the North End is complete without a trip to Mike's  Pastry www.mikespastry.com .We were too stuffed from lunch to have dessert, but I did get 5 huge cannoli's to go. We walked around for a little while and the boys decided it was too hot to stay any longer. ( I think they just wanted to go home and eat cannoli's) I don't blame them!





We had a great day, one that I will definitely do again, most of our stops were part of the freedom trail ( except for Mike's ). I think next time we will do the whole freedom trail.   The Freedom Trail is a 2.5 mile red-brick walking trail that leads you to 16 nationally significant historic sites, every one an authentic American treasure.     www.thefreedomtrail.org 






I know this...In My Life, I will treasure everything that is in my own backyard,  and take advantage of everything it has to offer.

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