About Town

        It was a humid, steamy Thursday night around 10:00. I was walking back from Cambridge with some fellow band members talking and laughing. We were making our way down Mass Ave, which seemed to be much emptier than usual. Maybe it was the extreme heat and humidity, the first of its kind this year, that drove everyone inside. After too long a walk, we parted ways across from Symphony Hall and I mentally calculated the amount of walking I had left to do before I reached my apartment.   

          Amidst mentally browbeating myself for half a block for not packing a pair of flat shoes, and trying to get my mind off of the pinched and numb feeling in my toes, my thoughts were interrupted by a strange voice.

                 “Hey girl, you look like heaven…”

               I looked to my left to see a strange man sitting on the stoop of an apartment building. At first I was scared and intimidated, looking over at him, but then I quickly looked straight ahead again, completely ignoring the remark. I am from an average sized town in Southern New Hampshire, population 25,000, where strangers walking on the same street wave or stop and say, “Beautiful day it is today, perfect day to do some planting!”. Where fathers teach their daughters to wave and chat with the canoe full of people passing you by on the lake. So, it might have been the lack of politeness in the voices of these complete strangers when they called out on the street that offended me so. Not 2 minutes later, I heard a similar,

                 “You lookin’ so beautiful tonight…” and began to feel extremely aggravated.

            What is the goal of shouting supposed compliments after women you see on the street? Is it to be considered a compliment? Is it to let women know you are interested? Maybe it’s some macho accomplishment thing when doing this in front of other men? Whatever the reason, I grew angrier and angrier thinking over these questions in my mind. I was hot and sweaty and bedraggled, the street was dark. I was pretty sure no stranger who had never seen me before could judge what I looked like besides a dress and heels.  To me, these shouted words, or even the ones that were softly spoken, were more demeaning than complimentary.

In Spanish culture, there is a form of pick up lines called “piropos”. These are told to beautiful women when seen in public in Spanish cities. However, these lines are more comical than serious. Some of the lines are like “tantas curvas y yo sin freño”. Which literally translates to “so many curves and me without brakes”. Maybe these types of lines used in Barcelona, Madrid, Burgos, are similar to the types of lines used in American cities. Maybe these same lines are used all over the world by all types of men. Either way, these types of lines are something that makes me miss my hometown. Where neighbors are polite and men are chivalrous. Where houses are left unlocked all day long because crime rarely happens. Where little rows of vegetable gardens line the backyards of houses…

But the city brings so much more. Even with strangers who may be less than polite. Even with surprising transportation problems, strange smells, high rent. I left home because of a big fish/ small pond kind of phenomenon. And I love that in the city I rarely feel this way.

So while finishing my walk down Westland Avenue I smirked a little bit to myself. I figured that if these men were so inspired by the sight of me- frizzy haired, dripping with sweat, in visible pain from sore feet, loaded up like a pack mule with various musical equipment, then I would allow them to get away with their silly lines. I guess meeting strange people on the street is something that comes with all of the remarkable things it has to offer. And when I think about it, I would rather have strange people who have well known quirks and do bizarre things than people who are extremely polite yet also very predictable.