Our apartment in Bawston is on the 36th floor, with really extraordinary views up the Charles River and over the city.
The train ride from New York was really relaxing, it is a very cool way to travel. Our red hatted helper at Penn station, Mike, was a genius with a key that reversed the escalators from up to down and vice versa. How handy would this be at Westfield Hurstville? Great scenery all the way, lots of leg room and a smooth ride.
Our first walk into town from our apartment (we are very close to the historic centre) led us to a bar that opened out into the street and what should the guitarist be belting out but 'Thunder Road." John, Marty and I had no choice but to join in from the street at his shoulder. He loved it. When we got through "We're pulling outta here to win..." he asked the audience to thank us, the "E Street Band."
A great introduction to this really neat, hipster end of town.
We had a quick look at the bars and eateries around this section, the first tavern in the US is here, The Bell in Hand, one of many old, charming establishments here. We strolled through the markets and explored the waterfront, then back to our Springsteen man for a feed. The food was just ok, but Michele did best with her Shepherd's Pie. The singer did a few more Bruce numbers, including Growin' Up, he was not bad at all and was up for a long chat about Bawston and Springsteen and other topics.
Wandered some more, then bed.
Next day we sauntered down to the historic section of town to follow The Freedom Trail which began at the Boston Common, the birthplace of the nation. Instead of buying a tour from one of the men with the tri cornered hat, we elected to have Marty with a pamphlet as our guide.
Now, I'm not saying this was a completely stupid idea, I am just saying that in terms of historical accuracy, he may have been a little lacking. Paul Revere may well have been the first man to open a Falafel outlet in Bawston and The Boston Marathon Terrorist Attack may have been in 1770, I'm not sure. The price was right and he seemed to enjoy himself, so what the heck.
We ubered off for a tour of Harvard University. Uber, by the way has been a great way to get around. Cheap, no waiting, efficient, no cash, brilliant.
Harvard (Hah - vahd as the locals pronounce it, almost Aussie style) tour was taken by an Anthropology student, Nick, who was funny, intelligent and gave us the inside lowdown on the place, the history, the amazing alumni - Kennedy, Gates, Zuckerberg, Obama, Roosevelt times two, Natalie Portman, etc etc etc, while we walked the beautiful grounds. You start to understand the pride these people have in their alma mater when you listen to someone like Nick. Had a terrible coffee in Dunkin' Donuts cause I needed to use their bathroom. It was swill.
Another ordinary feed, get your act together, Bawston!
Next day we set off to the JFK Memorial and Museum. It was fantastic. You get such a sense of what a shock his assassination must have been when you see the love and care that has gone into this memorial. It is so superbly done. The tour was a good way to go, hearing a lot of the lesser known facts as you travelled through his life. His eloquence struck me. There can't have been many better off the cuff speakers in history. The video clips of his answers in interviews showed his gift with words, one scintillating example was his analysis of the Middle East as a young senator. It still holds true today.
Michele and I came back to the town and had a feed in the market, Indian me, Italian she.
In true American style we ordered take out pizza and watched cable TV that night. The pizza was cheesy cheese with double cheese and cheese. There was too much cheese, so a fair bit went back into the fridge at the end of the night.
A good coffee shop found the following morning. Run by an Aussie, with an Aussie theme, the guy behind the counter told us that slowly, slowly the coffee culture is picking up. You could even get a meat pie. Hoorah!
We had booked a Duck Tour the day before. They are everywhere throughout the city, amphibious craft that do the streets as well as a chug up the Charles River. The guide, a chubby comic, SuperSize the superhero was a genius. Not chuckle funny, belly laugh professional stand up funny.
Our Duck call lanyards added to the silliness as this guy delivered the best guided tour I think I have ever been on. I got to sail it up the Charles River, keeping my "always getting picked" record intact. Jokes were rapid fire, one of his best was when we approached the river and he went through the safety procedure and how the wheels would retract and the propellor shaft would automatically deploy, where the life jackets were, clearly a time for seriousness and reassurance. Then as we slipped down the spillway into the water, he begged between clenched teeth "please work, please work, please work." Hilarious.
Lunch. Nice.
Then we set off on a harbour cruise. Boston Harbour is huge and beautiful, not unlike Sydney in places. It was a warm afternoon and would have been relaxing if it had not been for the terrible guide. A young bird who had memorised 8 976 facts about the harbour and was determined to tell us every single one in one never ending sentence. She did not not draw a breath. In the end it sounded like the air being let out of a massive tyre, just noise, no words at all. Her tip jar was left pretty empty as we disembarked, so it wasn't just us who thought she was a bit poo.
Our final night we decided to do Italian in the North End, our nearest neighbourhood, a short walk. It is the little Italy of Boston, full of pasta, cannoli, pizza, squeeze boxes, concrete shoes, striped suits. We had a feed at a classy joint, Villa Francesca. Nice pasta, red vino, a few laughs, then off to the famous Mike's for cannoli. The queue was ridiculously ridiculously long, but John stuck it out only to discover Tony was a phoney. Pretty ordinary cannoli and rubbery eclairs, no lamingtons and not one single
Last night in Bawston, had to pack and think about Washington DC. Excited.
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