The South End Sunday

Every city has those things only tourists do, those attractions guide books claim are imperative to see or do unless you want to go back home feeling like you didn’t get the full experience. There’s the Statue of Liberty in New York City. How many locals go there on a daily basis? There’s Moulin Rouge in Paris. Go there and take a picture and the only Parisian you might end up catching on camera is one who is used to taking her clothes off in front of it for a living…

Enough said, every city has those areas or sights mainly perused by tourists. So, no one will shoot me looks when I admit to have never gone on a swan boat ride in the Boston Garden; that’s perfectly normal. I can also openly reveal that I’ve never gone on a duck tour, nor do I have any particular desire to. With this safety blanket of accepted truth, I went on with my daily life. Until one day I realized I was cornering myself into a tiny worn-out box of existence. I rarely ventured out of the Fenway/Backbay area, and instead of exploring my own city in small, frequent doses I would travel farther to get my dose in random bursts.

Then it all changed. & it started in the South End, at the SoWa market.

It was on a sunny Sunday afternoon, the day after a trip to NYC. My roommate had been wanting to go to this farmers/arts market since the summer but it just never really happened I suppose. Having been in NYC just long enough to entice me but not so long as to still my craving, a Boston market was exactly what I needed. The place was bustling with energy; vendors selling apples and flowers, smiling people everywhere, even dogs were welcome and enjoying a day out on the town.

I had my first Macoun of the season at SoWa…

Shopping for gourds

All photos by: Fanny Littmarck