Les Flâneurs

Paris in the past - Pantheon and the rue Soufflot

From the US Library of Congress postcard collection.

Head of the Charles Regatta in Boston

Since closing up shop last spring Susan has been freed to to finally take up a few things lingering on her to-do list. One of these was taking rowing lessons at the Narragansett Boat Club.

Located along the western (Providence) bank of the Seekonk River, the NBC offers a variety of courses for all age groups. So, in early summer Susie first started with the basics on a barge of like-minded beginners. After a short hiatus of several trips traveling to Michigan, she finally got back into the swing of things and joined the next level up, the "zephyr" class: one person one boat. She loves the workout, and is especially taken with this days when the river is like glass and it's just her, the boat, the river and the oars.

Well this past weekend was one of the rowing world's preeminent events, the Head of the Charles Regatta in Boston, Massachusetts. Teams from all over the world came to compete -- not just university teams such as Boston, West Point, Navy along with scores of other colleges but boat clubs of all age groups were represented as well. The southern bank of the Charles River was pretty much wall-to-wall rowing boats, teams and paraphernalia between the Eliot and Arsenal Bridges.

Traffic along Soldiers Field Road around Christian Herter Park, the hub of the event, was insane and parking was at a premium to say the least. So we opted to leave our car at a nearby mall lot -- near a Staples store -- and walked 10 minutes along the river to see what the fuss was all about. We soon found ourselves knee-deep into big-time rowing subculture. The river was packed with team boats, eights and foursomes seemed to be the mainstay team sizes represented while we were there and it was not only interesting and enlightening but downright fun to watch the boats gliding effortlessly (!) up and down the river.

Although rain spitted off and on that afternoon there was no serious interference by the weather gods and like so many others, we thoroughly enjoyed being out on a nice autumn day along the river savoring life.

Columbus Day Weekend - Atwell's Avenue and the Scituate Art Festival

Columbus Day is a major holiday in New England although I can't for the life of me figure out why. Chris didn't come remotely close to this part of the "new world," and if he had, we can be fairly certain things would've have worked out differently for the folks who now call this corner of the planet home.

Anyway, part of the city's festivities, at least in our part of Providence, is found on Atwell's Avenue on Federal Hill, where the focus is mainly on Chris's Italian heritage. Atwell's is at the center of the "old Italy" part of Providence and you can still find some of the vestiges of that part of the city's history right here. A 20-minute walk from our home we occasionally come to Atwell's to buy Italian groceries at Tony's Colonial or Venda Ravioli.

This time we walked to see what the fuss was all about. It was a gorgeous Sunday as we made our way through the throngs of people moving one way and another up and down the street.

Several blocks of Atwell's was roped off and the street was lined with booths selling housing products, Italian-themed kitsch and of course everybody seemed to be selling sausage and peppers sandwiches. So we bought a couple of bottles of Peroni and strolled listening to Italian music on one stage, and a Sinatra-style crooner on another, as we wandered along a time-honored tradition among the Italians of Federal Hill.

Columbus Day Weekend in Rhode Island also means it's time for the enormous and enormously popular Scituate Art Festival. Located barely 20 miles from Atwell's Avenue the contrasts, the differences between Federal Hill and rural Scituate couldn't have been more palpable.

From the inner city tension of lives lived on the edge defined by a powerful ethnic history on the one hand and the asphalt of Federal Hill on the other to the sublime beauty of fall colors above a row of porta-potties in front of the local cemetery, it required a shift in perspective on what exactly makes up Rhode Island, or perhaps who. From Italian kitsch made in China to art made in New England was a leap indeed. . .