Somerville took my heart

Some stories don’t begin with words, they begin with numbers. It was a quiet afternoon in Somerville, Massachusetts, when I saw a house that carried the exact same number as mine back in Havana. A small detail, but one that felt massive. I had just released my song "My Way Back Home," a personal piece about nostalgia, roots, and the echo of places that once defined who I am. And there I was, standing in a different city, in a foreign country, seeing a reflection of my origin staring back at me from a house wall. That was the beginning of my last chapter back in the New England.

After visiting Harvard, walking through the vibrant tech-laced streets of Seaport Boulevard, exploring the heart of Boston Downtown, and experiencing the deep culture of South Boston, I ended my journey in the neighborhood of Somerville. Unlike the glossy skyline or historic waterfronts of the previous places, Somerville speaks in softer tones. It's a neighborhood that doesn’t scream to be noticed but somehow leaves a deeper mark than those that do.

Somerville is artsy, young, and effortlessly cool. From Union Square to Davis Square, it pulses with creativity and authenticity. You can feel the artistic energy in the murals, independent bookstores, coffee shops filled with local musicians, and the smell of fresh pastries from hidden bakeries. It is not built for tourists but for people who stay, create, and live their truth.

The people there are warm and grounded. After two weeks of rushing past professionals in Seaport or hearing the buzz of nightlife in South Boston, Somerville offered me a different pace. I've could have conversations with strangers that felt like chats with old friends, I listened to local accents blending with foreign tongues, and I saw the mosaic of cultures coexisting with a rhythm only neighborhoods like this can sustain.

The architecture is also different though but with simpler homes and smaller than high-level Boston towers. Wooden porches, brick pathways, and colorful facades tell stories of decades past. There's something timeless about Somerville, it’s a mix of old New England charm and new-generation energy, colliding perfectly in one zip code. There are no luxury skyscrapers or superyachts in there, but there’s honesty and a truly self village, and that’s far more valuable.

Public transportation is quite accessible, with the Green and Red lines offering easy movement across the local area. But honestly, Somerville is just made for walking. It invites you to slow down, breathe, and look around. Technology is present, yes, but it serves the people instead of defining them. You find QR menus at quaint cafes, digital art exhibits in old warehouses, and eco-friendly bike stations at nearly every corner. It is the perfect fusion of function and soul.

My time in Boston had been transformative. From academic awe in Harvard to the modern pulse of Seaport, from the towering elegance of Downtown to the cultural heartbeat of South Boston, each district gave me a new lens to see the world. But Somerville... Somerville gave me a mirror to see myself, that's for sure.

As I stood in front of that house with the same number as mine, and with the cold Boston wind brushing past my old black leather jacket, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Peace. Not the kind you chase in luxury or adrenaline, but the kind that finds you when you realize you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

If every city I visited was a song, Somerville was the bridge; the moment before the final chorus that ties the entire melody together. And when I left, I didn’t just leave with photos or memories. I left knowing that Boston, in all its forms, had become a part of my story. And just like my track says, maybe the way back home isn’t always where you started. Sometimes, it’s where you end a journey feeling more like yourself than ever before.

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