I got up early again, with my eyes puffy and inflamed because of sleep deprivation. One last seminar awaited me, and I still wanted more of Providence. I packed my bags and took a last look around the room before checking out.
This desk. It smelt like my old dorm.Beautiful, but very thin mattress to sleep onVery New England-ish staircase.
I got my smoothie from In The Pink (213 Thayer St.) and headed to the seminar. There wasn’t much to listen to. I felt the second day had the most relevant topics. My mind wandered about where I could go to explore more of Providence.
After the seminar, I was invited to a Korean fried-chicken restaurant called Den Den Korean Fried Chicken (182 Angell St.). As a Korean whose taste buds have met the pinnacles of Fried Chicken in this category and shot my standards way up, these were subpar (personally, 2/5; Google says 4.5/5). As I finished this meal, my day just freed up.
There was already a sense of mourning. It felt like an adventure was just about to start in Providence, but it ended abruptly. I sought ways to salvage it, but I knew I needed to return. A burdening sense of pressure took its place at the back of my mind, calling me back home to work, and I agreed with it.
Eventually, I made a compromise: a short walk by the Providence river.
Downtown Providence is seen on a bridge.Providence, RI also gives a small town atmosphere.
After the short walk, I visited a cafe called Small Point Café (230 Westminster St.). It had a Boston/NYC cafe vibe: hipster, homey, and bookish.
Entrance of Small Point Café.
One thing to note about this cafe is that it closes a bit early (at 4 PM) on Mondays ~ Thursdays. Closes a bit later on Fridays ~ Sundays.
After working in the café for a few hours, I stopped by Symposium Books (240 Westminster St.). I bought a magnet from this bookstore that said “Providence, Wicked Nice”. It captured what I thought of Providence perfectly, and I bought it to commemorate the visit.
Symposium Books.
I remember visiting this bookstore once, when I lived in Boston, MA. While it piqued my interest, I found none of the book appealing. Alas, I took the place and returned to my apartment. Albeit short, Providence, Rhode Island, left a strong impression. It’s a pleasant place to visit during the summer. Don’t expect too much from the food. Enjoy the scene and the relationships you build with people there.
At 5:00 AM, I stepped outside of my temporary lodging into the New England street. As I soaked in the chilly morning air, I was startled. The temperature, the moisture, and the signature scent of the Atlantic Ocean hit my olfactory nerves, and I was immediately transported back five years ago to when I used to live in Boston, MA. I looked around. It felt as if I were putting on an old cloth stored in the furthest corner of your closet, and it just fits my body perfectly. All the thoughts and emotions started to rush back to my prefrontal cortex. It was as if I were meeting an old friend. It felt as if another persona had been lying dormant, ready to be let out when the conditions were right.
A view of the neighborhood from my room.
Since there was plenty of time before the seminar started, I decided to go for a walk and explore the little town a little bit. I wanted to revisit the city of Providence, Rhode Island, to see if it had changed at all since I last visited about five or six years ago. I had visited this place for a few hours from Boston as a quick weekend trip. The Rhode Island I remembered was quiet, old, and Victorian. I started to walk towards the residential area, away from Downtown Providence.
Many of these colonial houses have a date of construction posted in front of the house.
Past the Colonial houses, I found a row of small shops near Fox Point. The beauty of this petite town cannot be replicated elsewhere without its ambiance. It’s a town that has survived the darkness, the frostiness, and the loneliness. The history infuses a sense of solemn defiance in the neighborhood.
“Beauty is not a luxury; rather it is a way of creating possibility in the space of enclosure, a radical art of subsistence, an embrace of our terribleness, a transfiguration of the given.” – Saidiya Hartman
On Wickenden Street, I found a few brunch restaurants. One of them was Coffee Exchange (207 Wickenden St.). It’s a two-story café, and patrons were already filling the seats in the morning. The line was long, and the barista seemed to recognize their regulars. They had a family-like atmosphere and offered a wide range of coffee selections.
After getting a cup of dark roast drip coffee (it wasn’t memorable), I walked back to my lodging. I stopped by In The Pink (213 Thayer St.), a pink-themed smoothie shop that offered $10-a-pop smoothie. I especially liked a drink called “Hair of the Dog”, which was colored pitch black, yet had a fresh kick of pineapple juice. I’d definitely give it 5/5.
With a smoothie in my hand, I joined the second day of the workshop.
After the workshop, I was invited to visit a local brewery, Narragansett Brewery (271 Tockwotten St.), by one of the local students. My colleague and I joined her at the brewery. The conversations primarily focused on the technical details of career prospects. We sat outside on a small balcony table with an industrial umbrella over our heads. I munched on a large pretzel as we sipped on a beer sitting near the Providence River.
After our beer chat, we parted ways. I decided to take a walk back to the lodging because it was not too far from where we were, and I wanted to explore Providence. I have learned that some people grew up with many animals around them. They explained it as such: When an animal passes away, a new one is welcomed into the family, completing the circle of life. I decided to keep at least a dog and a cat when I can do so.
As we sat, I noticed two sets of knives and forks arranged on each side of the table. As I stared at them quizzically, I received a quick tutorial on the country club etiquette of using each pair for a specific meal type. Regrettably, upon receiving this tidbit of high-class mannerism, I quickly denigrated to using whatever utensils I wanted to use. I saw a flash of horror pass by the face of my colleague, as if witnessing a barbarianism. I promised myself to acquaint myself with proper dining etiquette later.
The dinner was sufficient and somewhat satisfactory (3.5/5). After the dinner, I decided to take a walk in downtown Providence to digest the food. The city was eerily empty. After snapping a few pictures, I decided to walk back home.
In June 2024, I revisited New England, which I had left five years ago. After nine years of the dark and cold, it had felt like a good riddance then. But this time, my stay in Providence, Rhode Island, glistened brighter than any memory in a recent decade that I could recall. And I suspected it was thanks to my travel companion and the perfectly nice weather during my visit that made this trip shine.
Sunset over the Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport during a layover
The primary purpose of the trip to New England was for an academic event. I flew from one of the southern states and arrived in the middle of the night. I took a Lyft ride from the T.F. Green International Airport. As we drove through the night, the Nigerian Lyft driver stressed the importance of trying Jollof, a type of sticky rice traditionally made in Nigeria. He inquired about academia and how his two teenage children can choose the right academic path. I had no answer for him, but I tried to give him as much information as possible. Eventually, his Lyft navigation app showed that he had arrived at the destination. He dropped me off at a location that just looked like the middle of a pedestrian street; there was no obvious door to a hotel or a motel. It was just a street with small commercial shops lined shoulder to shoulder. In fact, the location provided by an email from the hostel where I made a reservation said it was between a Dunkin Donuts and a vape smoke shop. Upon investigating the corners, I found a hidden glass door that led upstairs. Once I walked up the spiral stairs, I found a dorm-like hallway, one of which had the number of the apartment unit I had made the reservation for. I opened the lock with the passcode I received and entered the door.
A person sleeps on the doorsteps to the entrance between a smoke shop and a coffee shop
Upon walking into the apartment room, I was hit by a humid air steamed with wood furniture. The smell of wooden furniture immediately brought a flashback to the college dormitory years. I didn’t realize I missed this smell until I smelled it. It has been more than a decade since I entered that dorm, and the memory has not gone away.
The smell of this wooden desk & chair reminds me of college dorms
The bed was a queen-size bed made by putting two twin-size mattresses together. There was a therapist sofa, where you lie down with a tilted back bolstered by a cushion. The windows were covered in layers of white semi-transparent curtains, and two interesting oil paintings hung on the wall. I was too tired to care about the details. I spilled the contents from my luggage and found a toothbrush and a toothpaste, and walked to what I thought was a restroom. It was indeed a restroom, but a public one. One where you can clearly see if a dude is dropping poops into toilet through the gap in the door. Thankfully, there were multiple shower cubicles. I brushed my teeth and lay my head on the pillow. Alas, a young, budding DJ working night shift at the smoke shop decided it was the day he/she honed their beat-dropping skills. With a heavy woofer shaking the bed frame with odd-sounding beats, I tried to go to sleep.
Queen-size bed made with two twin-size beds
Day 1
I woke up early in the morning, undeterred by the private electronic dance music party I had been treated to all night long. I decided to find something to eat for breakfast. On Google Maps, I found Bagel Gourmet Ole (288 Thayer St.). The restaurant was filled with the aroma of freshly toasted bagels, and the kitchen was already bustling with workers who quietly beamed in the morning hustle. The morning cold air and the warmth of the kitchen reminded me of the sense of community and camaraderie shared among those who survive the brutally cold and dark weather of New England. There was no table, but customers came in and out religiously.
At Bagel Gourmet Ole, I got the cinnamon raisin bagel with cheese, which cost me $5.63 + tax + tip(I’d rate it 7/10)
Despite its hefty cost, the bagel was not enough for my appetite. I returned to my Google Map and found the East Side Pockets(278 Thayer St.), a Middle Eastern restaurant. As I lingered at the entrance, staring at three large panels of menus, I heard a call from the kitchen counter. A middle-aged bald man with a beer belly and a salt-and-pepper beard was holding out what looked like two fried balls. I sheepishly took them. I couldn’t let him keep holding them or risk throwing them away. And as soon as I bit into these dry, greasy fried balls of fish, I knew I had to order something from this restaurant. I was in too deep already. So I ordered a lamb shawarma, for the sake of the fond memory I had with the food in Tunisia.
At East Side Pockets, I ordered a lamb shawarma, which tasted okay, but had good quantity (I’d rate it 6/10)
The shawarma was not as fresh as the ones I remembered from Tunisia. But its hefty quantity gave me enough energy to face the first day of the academic workshop. Since I had a bit of time until the start of the first lecture, I decided to cut through the neighborhood.
What I appreciated about the neighborhood is its reserved but florid community. Since 1636, the neighborhood has been accumulating its history. Colonial-style apartments were part of the organic system with fauna and trees. If you can get used to walking steep uphill and downhill, it’s a walkable, petite town with an atmosphere of literary chic (you have to be there to know this means). Moreover, it connects to the Atlantic Ocean via the Providence River!
Promenade next to the Providence RiverProvidence River
After a morning walk around Providence, I attended the workshop. After the seminar was over, I was asked to grab lunch at Harry’s Bar & Burger (121 N Main St.). Of course, I took up the offer. Unfortunately, I didn’t take any photos in this dive bar. I ordered (I think) Mother of All Burgers with sweet potato fries and a bottle of Heineken (I’d rate it 4/10). I remember (I think) that the beef batty was slightly burnt and dry, and the caramelized onions were sticky with molten American cheese. I was too busy talking about personal experiences and childhood memories. You’d be surprised at how quickly you can get to know me as a person in just a few minutes over a beer and a burger.
When we were done, we took a walk up the hill to digest the greasy food we had just consumed. We decided to walk upwards without giving it much thought. On the way uphill, we came across a fortress-like wall. On top of that fortress, we found a small park. It was the Prospect Terrance (60 Congdon St.).
Prospect Terrace looking over downtown Providence
From Prospect Terrace, I found a panoramic view looking over downtown Providence. Just in time, the sun was setting by the time we sat on the bench. When I was asked what I would do if I didn’t have to concern myself with research, I said I would become a philosopher. I was surprised by my own answer. I heard myself explaining that I was inspired by a book called Love & Free, written by Takahashi Ayumu, and that I’d be interested in traveling around the world and exploring the thoughts of various minds. In turn, my new work friend replied that she wants to become a professional pizza maker (It was at this moment that I realized I had taken the question too seriously). After completing my program, I said I am interested in leading a healthcare institution that serves the underserved community. How I would do it with a research degree, I did not know yet. We called it a day, and each of us walked back to our respective temporary lodgings.
One last look at the Prospect Terrace.
Maybe it was the beer and the greasy burger, but I felt glad to have visited Providence. The weather reminded me of the hard-boiled nine years of living in New England. The greasy dive bar, the salty air of the Atlantic Ocean, and the grace of the sunlight after a season of cold, dark months were what awakened long-dormant memories of living in New England. I remembered the long-forgotten walks, talks, and trips I had with friends in New England. I didn’t know I missed it until I came back.
It took me a while to fall asleep on this day. I wanted to linger a bit longer in the nostalgia. But it was time to go to sleep for another day, and I eventually hit the bed. Thankfully, the DJ downstairs decided to take a break from his side gig in electronic dance music. I took my window of opportunity and fell asleep.
I will continue the story with Day 2 in a separate post!
What would an animal in a cage feel like? You see world outside, yet you can’t go there. The world is not an illusion. It’s real. And it prevents you to go out and explore.
That’s how I felt living in Boston.
Once, it had been a wonderful place. I was in a relationship, I was slowly building experience towards high education, and slowly, yet steadily earning money.
Then, I crashed my entrance exam, broke up with girlfriend, and lost my job. Now, I did not know where I was headed with my pre-health degree.
I’ve worked in cafe as a barista for a year, receiving minimum wage. I spent months wrestling with exam prep questions day and night while others went on hiking, partying, and sharing joyous moments together. It felt like a burning hell, but I wasn’t going to stop. I kept on walking.
Then, I got fired from a health clinic, where I’ve poured in all of my energy to support its mission to help those who are both poor and sick. Everything seemed meaningless. I’ve worked so hard to become a physician to help those in need of help, yet I questioned whether the effort was worth the cause.
Then, I happened to talk to one of my good friends.
Straight away, he told me to go to Iceland.
I’ve been always wanting to go to Iceland. Just because it is Iceland. Also, I’ve watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty before (if you have watched it, you’ll see what I mean). A post-doc researcher from a lab I worked in recommended to me strongly “when you have money, you don’t have time to travel. When you time, you don’t have money. Just go, it’s a great place”.
I’ve long forgotten about it, but thanks to my friend, I decided to go.
That night, I purchased ticket to go to Iceland two days later.
That’s how I went to Iceland, my first oversea trip on my own.
Ralph with Coffee 
You must be logged in to post a comment.