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I have walked G from Wickenden through the Brown and RISD campuses, through the historic college hill neighbourhoods, we walked through the RISD Art Museum -- where I reacquainted myself with the amazing collection, then to Prospect Park for an overview of the city, then down to Thayer Street.
G loves the feel of College Hill. He especially loves the energy of Thayer Street -- also one of my favourite places to spend my time. He's very happy with the number of ethnic restaurants -- especially the Middle Eastern selection. He shares my love for the RISD collection. It's the perfect size for an art museum. Large enough to house an Egyptian room complete with real mummy, original European painters and sculptors (like Degas, Manet, Picasso and Monet) and not be overwhelming. G even realized the breadth of his art appreciation is expanding to include Impressionist art.
We had lunch at Andreas Greek cuisine, stopped for giant cookies at Meeting Street Café on the recommendation of Raymond, the gentleman at the counter in Tealuxe. We had stopped in the tea café before lunch and promised to return and tell him where we ate. We bought a whole Garbage cookie (containing the ingredients of all their cookies) and planned to share it with him. Upon our return, Raymond greeted us warmly like we were old buddies and wanted to hear all about our lunch. When he realized G was sporting an Australian accent he asked, "You're Australian? Why are we not making out right now?!?" Then he pumped us for information on all the deadly critters in Australia. He made our teas and refused to accept payment, so we gave him the whole Garbage Cookie.
I took G to Cellar Stories, ironically located on the second floor, one of the only used bookstores left that I used to frequent (that I could find). I'm guessing my favourite store off Wickendon Street that was tended by the ancient couple 11 years ago probably folded when one or both of them did. They seemed impossibly old back then. I patronized that shop for 10 years and remember being pleasantly surprised each time that they were both still there in their padded chairs with their manual cash register that probably rang sales made by H.P. Lovecraft himself.
I digress.
We then made our way down Atwells Ave through Federial Heights (as I lovingly referred to it) on our pilgrimage to Casserta's Pizza. I consider it the best pizza ever with Chicago style deep dish coming in a close second. G was skeptical. He's heard me bemoan the lack of proper pizza and bagels in the PNW forever. Every time I mention we're heading to Casserta's before we leave RI, the locals ooh and ahh and nod their heads in grave assent. Here we are, eating one. Right now. G pronounces it, "Good, crunchy bread with tasty tomato sauce." He favours Chicago style more. I apparently hooked him on great pizza. He used to eat those big chain pizzas I can't even recognize as such.
G loves the feel of College Hill. He especially loves the energy of Thayer Street -- also one of my favourite places to spend my time. He's very happy with the number of ethnic restaurants -- especially the Middle Eastern selection. He shares my love for the RISD collection. It's the perfect size for an art museum. Large enough to house an Egyptian room complete with real mummy, original European painters and sculptors (like Degas, Manet, Picasso and Monet) and not be overwhelming. G even realized the breadth of his art appreciation is expanding to include Impressionist art.
We had lunch at Andreas Greek cuisine, stopped for giant cookies at Meeting Street Café on the recommendation of Raymond, the gentleman at the counter in Tealuxe. We had stopped in the tea café before lunch and promised to return and tell him where we ate. We bought a whole Garbage cookie (containing the ingredients of all their cookies) and planned to share it with him. Upon our return, Raymond greeted us warmly like we were old buddies and wanted to hear all about our lunch. When he realized G was sporting an Australian accent he asked, "You're Australian? Why are we not making out right now?!?" Then he pumped us for information on all the deadly critters in Australia. He made our teas and refused to accept payment, so we gave him the whole Garbage Cookie.
I took G to Cellar Stories, ironically located on the second floor, one of the only used bookstores left that I used to frequent (that I could find). I'm guessing my favourite store off Wickendon Street that was tended by the ancient couple 11 years ago probably folded when one or both of them did. They seemed impossibly old back then. I patronized that shop for 10 years and remember being pleasantly surprised each time that they were both still there in their padded chairs with their manual cash register that probably rang sales made by H.P. Lovecraft himself.
I digress.
We then made our way down Atwells Ave through Federial Heights (as I lovingly referred to it) on our pilgrimage to Casserta's Pizza. I consider it the best pizza ever with Chicago style deep dish coming in a close second. G was skeptical. He's heard me bemoan the lack of proper pizza and bagels in the PNW forever. Every time I mention we're heading to Casserta's before we leave RI, the locals ooh and ahh and nod their heads in grave assent. Here we are, eating one. Right now. G pronounces it, "Good, crunchy bread with tasty tomato sauce." He favours Chicago style more. I apparently hooked him on great pizza. He used to eat those big chain pizzas I can't even recognize as such.