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Letter from Boston

Brighton Center

By MASAKO YAMADA


ブライトン・センター

ボストンのオルストン=ブライトン地区のグライトンは、移民が多いためエスニックな店がたくさんあります。その中でもブライトン・センターと呼ばれる区画は、同じ移民が多く住む地区でも、雅子さんが住む辺りとはまったく違った雰囲気を醸し出しています。

The section of Boston called Allston-Brighton is well-populated with students from Boston University (BU), Boston College and other neighboring colleges. Many of the inexpensive, old brownstones are inhabited by a young, diverse group of nonlocals who spend several years in the area before settling elsewhere. I also see a tremendous new immigrant population in my neighborhood: There are many Vietnamese, Brazilian and Russian-Jewish shops in the area, and I know that many of the American diners are owned by Greeks. Although the general feeling that I get from the area is hardly posh, I feel safe and comfortable here. The vibes I get from these new groups are refreshing and lively.

It's amazing that another section of Brighton — Brighton Center — could feel so different from the section in which I live. My apartment is located right in front of a T stop on a large Boston street called Commonwealth Avenue. There is a constant flow of people in the area. I'm quite familiar with the sections of Allston-Brighton along the T tracks and bus routes. However, whenever I walk along paths that aren't close to public transportation stops, I realize how little I really know the area. I recently walked one block from my apartment (away from the T tracks) and realized for the first time that there is a hospital on my block.

Brighton Center is a place that I visit regularly but that never feels like home. The ambiance is so different from the neighborhood in which I live that I feel as if I'm in an alien world. Brighton Center is where my local post office branch is located. Whenever I have to pick up my paychecks (which arrive via registered mail), I walk to Brighton Center. There is a bus that goes from the BU area in downtown Boston to that area, but I don't know of any buses that go there from my part of Brighton. I have to take a very short T ride to the stop nearest to the center — Washington Street — and then walk about 20 minutes to get there.

The walk from Washington Street is eye-opening. There is a real nunnery only one block from Commonwealth Ave. Every week, the nuns form a procession, which circles the yard. This is open to the public. There are real houses along this path, as opposed to just apartment buildings. There are lots of authentic ethnic restaurants and trendy casual eating places near my apartment, but these give way to old sandwich shops and doughnut stores. Even the ethnic restaurants near Brighton Center are considerably Americanized: Heartburn-inducing Chinese and Mexican food is the norm, even though in their authentic forms these cuisines can be fresh and sparkling.

There are hardly any chain stores along the stretch of Commonwealth from Washington Street to Brighton Center. Instead of Starbucks and arty cafe-bars, there are diners. Instead of 7-Elevens, which carefully monitor inventory to reflect buying trends, there are jam-packed grocery stores that sell everything (often out of date). Instead of Wal-Mart, there are mom-and-pop hardware stores. The post office is located next to a bank machine and a local bakery, so after I pick up my checks, I usually deposit them right away and head to the bakery. Sometimes, I go to the local doughnut shop. They don't serve the best coffee or pastries, but I have to admit that I have a soft spot in my heart (and stomach) for greasy food, even when I know it's not gourmet. Both of these stores are populated with local residents, who chat with the local salespeople behind the counters.

Even though I say local, there are a surprising number of people in this area who speak with thick accents. I've heard that there are many Irish in the area and I've heard Slavic accents as well. When I took the bus from Brighton Center to BU, I noticed many black youngsters with thick black vernacular accents, as well as many tough-looking Vietnamese kids. Although they may be transplants from some other region, it is clear that they are the ones who truly belong to the area. Perhaps I was only imagining things, but I felt as if I stood out on that bus as a nonlocal. Even though I don't feel threatened by this, going to Brighton Center always humbles me: It reminds me that there are entire pockets of Brighton that I will never know, even though they may be only a mile — or a block — away.


Shukan ST: March 6, 1998

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