T Stop: Haymarket/North End

"In Napoli, where love is king, when boy meets gir,l this is what they sing; when the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie, that's amore. . ."

Or, you're in the North End. Home to Boston's Italian-American population since the late 1870's, this cobblestone street hideout has every thing. I, of course, mean pizza, pasta, and pizzazz. So, with this last week of T-Stop Madness, journey with me to a land with a spirit reminiscent of mainland Italy. I'm talking about a place with beautiful women who dress up on Saturday night and look like princesses; a place where they don't card you no matter how old you look because you're paying $20 a meal. Kinda sounds like a Disney movie, doesn't it? Well, maybe without that last part...



Last Stop: Haymarket/North End



Admittedly, it may be a bit of a rough and tumble job reaching the North End from the T stop, as it requires crossing under I-93, but it's also certainly worth the effort. Yet, if you're still feeling queasy about your lack of navigational skills, go on a weekend night and follow the crowds to the brick and olfactory cornucopia that signifies your arrival in the North End. As you approach the main street of Hanover, you'll likely have a small to-do list upon arrival: 1) eat food at a restaurant and 2) go to Mike's Pastries (300 Hanover, 742-3050).

The best part about it -- unlike the goal of passing Calculus the first time around -- is that you're bound to be successful! With chocolate, vanilla, and chocolate chip canolis as well as a multitude of other sweet goodies, Mike's is like an Italian Willy Wonka world! Yet, with the glorious amounts of treats comes a not so glorious amount of people. Be prepared to wait at least 10-15 minutes to reach the front of the line. Or, try a less crowded, albeit more modest bakery at Maria's Pastry Shop (46 Cross Street, 523-1196). With Nutella ($3) on the shelves and cookies on sheets, the taste is just as good as Mike's, simply without all the frantic, kinetic energy.

In terms of restaurants, not to sound too blas?©, they're all amazing! And, as we were soon to find out, due to their dimly lit ambiance, were hard to distinguish from one another.

Originally, my group put its name down at Artu (6 Prince Street, 742-4336), a comfortably priced restaurant with roasted vegetables attracting our eye in the window. We put our names down and decided to wander around the inviting cobblestone streets.

On our moseying stroll, we found the glittering world of High Gear Jewelry (139 Richmond, 523-5804), a unique boutique featuring some of the latest colorful fashions. They had necklaces with leather chains and colorful dangling beads ($16) as well as the vintage glass earrings ($14) that all those darling glossy magazines are toting as "hot" this season. Plus, if you knock down an entire display they won't kick you out of the store. Now, that's what I call showmanship.

My ex-beach bunny, Californian friend looked at her watch and decided to go check on our reservation. Fifteen minutes passed without her return. Deciding that she must have been seated, my fellow Midwestern friend and I decided to return to the restaurant and see for ourselves what was going on.

On our way there we saw two kids in an upstairs apartment using a fishing rod with a dollar bill attached to it. Laughing as we saw a befuddled teenager try to catch it in the air, it was a great scenic moment. The heroic Paul Revere's old house was even in the picture to the left. Talk about a great postcard to send home to Mama.

Upon reaching our predetermined eatery, however, we faced a conundrum. We still had a 20 minute wait and our third friend was nowhere in sight.

Suddenly, I felt my side buzz. Our dear friend had apparently already been seated: at a different restaurant. Honestly, now, are those day-dream believer stereotypes fact or fiction? Dude, I think -- sorry, I lost my train of thought.

Apparently, even though we had never even set foot in Ristorante Villa Francesca (150 Richmond Street, 367-2948), she had just assumed due to the (brick?) architecture that it was the same restaurant we'd put our name down for earlier.

Upon our arrival, the host led us downstairs to what appeared to be the opened and aired out space of a cellar, with wine bottles to our backs. Unfortunately, while the atmosphere did resemble that of Artu, the prices did not. Most places have Veal Marsala at a fixed price of $15-$16. Here, it was $18.95. All of the other dishes felt that price jump as well. So, while the Lobster Ravioli that I ordered was succulent and full of home cooking zest, it was appetizer size and still $18.95.

So, kids, what's the lesson of the week? Of the year?

I suppose there are two. The first is, make sure you know where you're going in the North End and elsewhere on those tricky T-lines, lest you wind up so turned around you land on your bum, or find yourself having to pay out of it.

And the second, well, explore Boston, my little tigers. It's a wild world out there and it's all yours for the taking.