…but I’m not ready to go back to it just yet.
I spent the weekend in Boston, which is the closest major city to Augusta. It’s a little more than three hours away on the bus, which is probably some people’s idea of fresh hell. But after a month and a half of a constantly moving breakfast-gym-lunch-work-dinner-bed-repeat lifestyle with not a lot of sitting-down time, three straight hours of being able to read or nap was definitely welcome.
There were a lot of things I was excited about seeing in Boston. My friends Kam and Tim of course were on top of the list, but they were closely followed by sushi, clear sidewalks that people actually use in winter and easily accessible transport. And let me tell you, I’ve missed all of them.
For obvious reasons, the energy in Boston was a lot different to the feel of Augusta. It was fun to be able to choose from literally countless bars, restaurants and stores in a variety of neighbourhoods. Hell, there was even a cricket-themed bar with Aussie beers and food where I spent a few hours on Australia Day. I could finally use the “transit directions” option for navigation in Google Maps again instead of looking at walking routes. And suffice it to say, the demographic was a lot more closely aligned with my age group.
But of course, all those things do come at a cost. In Augusta I’ve rarely had a bar tab more than $30 or so, or a meal that ran me more than $20. In Back Bay on Sunday morning, I dropped more than that combined on brunch and some hair-of-the-dog cocktails, and had similar cheques at two other establishments for the other two meals of the day.
Of course that wouldn’t be a daily or even weekly occurrence if I lived there, and my salary would be commensurate to living somewhere more expensive anyway.
But in any case, I’m not quite aching for urban living just yet. I mean, for starters. Lot of my itchy feet are the result of feeling a little like I’m on house arrest, which could be alleviated as soon as next week when I take my driving test and finalize my car purchase. On top of that, it’s pleasant to be in a place that’s small enough that the people you interact with on a daily or weekly basis – supermarket cashiers, bartenders, gym staff – know you at least by face if not by name (or country of origin, in my case). I’ve always wanted to be a familiar regular at a bar and, while the folks at the Liberal Cup might not know my name yet, I think they remember my face at least.
So while I look forward to accessible sushi, constantly salted sidewalks and public transport in my future, I’m happy to carve out my niche in Augusta for awhile. Big cities aren’t