UP UNTIL RECENTLY, I was unfamiliar with squares. Not as in geometric shapes, but as in a geographical location in a city. When my son, who lives in Somerville, Massachusetts, would talk about Davis, Harvard and Porter Squares, I pictured a park-like setting centering cultural events.
Well, a square is not exactly or solely that. Rather, the two squares I visited (Davis and Porter) recently are the convergence of about a half-dozen streets with businesses surrounding them. These seem city versions of small town Main Streets with a mix of retail, restaurants, professional, service and entertainment oriented businesses and nonprofits packed into a compact area.
Sure, there’s a bricked area with picnic and patio tables, benches, trees and art in Davis Square. But lacking are the lawn, abundance of flowers and water features I expected. Hard surfaces handle the heavy pedestrian, bike and vehicle traffic that make this place visually chaotic for a rural Minnesotan like me.
When my husband, son and I—all native Minnesotans—waited for the “walk” signal to cross a street, we found ourselves standing alone while others hurried around us, intent on getting wherever they were going. Pedestrians obviously rule here. People just step right in front of vehicles, seemingly oblivious that they could be struck. That, more than anything, scared me during a recent trip to greater Boston.
As for the converging streets in the square, you better know where you’re driving. Sort of like roundabouts but not, these intersections are confusing to someone unfamiliar with the streets and how the traffic pattern works. I understand why public transportation, available at the squares, is the preferred way of getting around.
That all said, I enjoyed people-watching in Davis Square where the three of us dined at The Boston Burger Company late on a Monday afternoon.
I ordered the 420 burger (mozzarella sticks, fried mac & cheese, onion rings, fries, bacon, golden BBQ sauce and American cheese) available at 4:20 for $4.20.
And, yes, 420 was explained to me as I was totally clueless that it references cannabis. Anyone who knows me well would also be surprised that I actually ate a burger.
The husband, as I expected, ordered his predictable burger, one topped with blue cheese. The son chose The King, a burger featuring peanut butter, bacon and a fried banana dusted in cinnamon and sugar. It was delicious.
I’d highly recommend dining outside The Boston Burger Company across from the Somerville Theatre for a front row seat to people-watching. I was thoroughly entertained.
The list of characters was ever-changing. From the inebriated man whom we worried was about to pee in public, to the young man dribbling a basketball, to the cyclist businessman with his pants legs rolled up to the woman with crimson hair to the chain of daycare kids to the man shouting to himself, I could have penned a dozen stories prompted by the people I saw.
One thing was particularly noticeable to me. With the exception of parents and their kids, I noticed few people interacting. It was as if all these individuals crossing Davis Square were in their own little worlds, en route to wherever they needed to be. The pace was hurried. The scene reminded me of the ants in the Ant Hill Farm my oldest brother had as a kid.
I understand that those who frequent this area may not view Davis Square as I did on a late Monday afternoon in late May. And that’s OK. I was, after all, simply a visitor from Minnesota not widely-traveled outside the Midwest.
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© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling