Farewell, my darling Corollamatic

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Boston, Massachusetts

The impending deadline for our car's return hanging over us like something odiferous encroaching perilously on the corners of our conciousness (hah! say that ten times fast!), we made our way south into Boston, leaving in our wake both the quiet and the bustling seaside downs that pepper the New England coastline. Boston had a warm welcome prepared for us....innumerable roadworks on motorway on and off-ramps ensured that we saw more of the city than we intended as we neared our destination. We drove into the city center, braving the towering toll bridge, which afforded us a magnificent view of the city skyline, to find numerous circuitous one way streets and nary a park in sight.

After a few loops around neighbouring blocks, we made it to the propitiously named Friend Street, where our hostel was located. Luckily there was evening parking on the street, until 2am at least, ugh. The Lonely Planet guide, our constant companion, informed us that there were two hostels here, but arriving, we found one locked door and diligently made enough of a racket for the manager to hear us and climb down three flights of stairs to let us in. The interior was in a state of partial dress, shall we say. It turned out the previous hostels had shut down, and the new incarnation had just been opened - two weeks early due to demand.... workers' cigarette butts littered the kitchen, the lounge furniture was couple of barstools from the downstairs bar and two garden chairs, the pay phone was disconnected, never to be useful again.... but there were beds, brand new cutlery and mattresses, and hot running water, so we settled in and began the mammoth job of sorting our car contents out.

Removing new cd's, maps, collected pamphlets and brochures for most of the major tourist attractions in America, bags and bags of food (I had no idea we had such a comprehensive pantry in our boot, or trunk as we've learned to call it to avoid confusing the locals), sneakers, laundry, mugs and bowls, towels and various other travel necessities from the car, we shuddered inwardly at the thought of cramming all our belongings into our packs, which were already of elephant like proportions. However, after some ruthless culling we achieved the impossible and our car was pristine and empty (apart from the bug collection, which we kindly left to be donated to Budget car rentals the next day... come to think of it, I really don't think they were suitably appreciative.)

After chowing our way through some of our now pantry-less grocery supplies for dinner, we set about finding accommodation for our car for the night, (no way were we going to be getting up at 2am,) and found the best deal in the city center was going to cost the same as our beds for the night. Four streets up was a slightly cheaper, although still considerably more than our average nightly accomodation this trip, so we gave our car the parting gift of 12 hours in a carpark at the rate of $23, to be collected 9.30 in the morning, and navigating back to our own wee bunks, turned in likewise.

And the very next day....
May 1st, D day for our car return....we decided before dropping our baby back at the airport we'd go for a spin around town (which is easier said than done in Boston). We went for a drive through Harvard campus and nodded knowledgably at all the student types there, and promptly turned around to track down our waypoint in every town, the public library, which we were very much mistaken in thinking we could park near. We did however sight the beautiful Boston Commons and Public Park, and rows of tree lined avenues full of very European looking 18th and 19th century homes for the wealthy and extravagant. We decided to head back this way once we had ditched the car and worked out the public transport.

Dropping the last few items in our car back at the hostel, we made our way with a surprising lack of trouble to Logan Airport, and found the Budget car drop off all too quickly. The guy waiting to take our keys nearly had a wrestling match on his hands as we prevaricated, taking pictures and checking over our (no longer so shiny) silver baby, but despite the wrench, we managed the transfer and went in to settle up...joy! There was rather a drama with some credit card charges the Hollywood office had made, and the LA guy had made quite a hash of the paperwork, too - but the lady in Boston was very helpful and friendly, and although we left with more travellers cheques and less visa balance than intended, we ended up paying slightly less than projected overall. Yes yes, all very tedious, but the moral of the story for you all: getting the information twice from two different people when you rent a car is simply not enough. Make them sign their names in blood on preserved human skin. And even then a team of ace lawyers as witnesses wouldn't hurt.

Footloose, fancy free and lighter in bank balance, we took two free airport shuttles to reach the train station and made our way back into town via the subway, which we took straight to the library, to sign up for our Boston Public Library cards, valid for 27 years don't you know! The Central Library was purpose built by a culture conscious Boston back in the mid 1800s, and is an impressively proportioned and beautiful building. We had a rather nice relax in the sun in the pretty courtyard, in front of a bubbling fountain featuring a naked woman holding aloft a laughing baby in one hand, and dangling grapes from the other. Quite what a female Bacchus has to do with libraries, we're not sure, but strangely enough we came across the same sculpture later in New York City, so perhaps it is just a reflection of East Coasters' love of fine wine and debauchery?

After stopping in the Common to watch some chanting, signwaving protestors, who had an entourage of police on motorbike, and a large contingent on horseback as well, we followed our library visit with a walk along a good portion of the Freedom Trail, which highlights various sites of historical import throughout central Boston. We circled through the park, past churches, schools and the original town hall, now a restaurant (where we had to stop for photos with the donkey of democracy, naturally)...we wound through commercial streets past the site of the spring responsible for Boston's existence, Boston's first skyscraper, and the meeting house where the signal for the start of the uprising now known as the Boston Tea Party was given. We followed the red brick line marking the trail through the financial district, past markets and restaurants, and of course, America's oldest pub (more on that later!) into Little Italy where the overwhemingly yummy smells of cooking food became too much. After a hurried look at the church from which the signal that the British (those evil Brits! We knew they were bad!) were coming was given and a peek at yet another historical cemetery, we went back to our hostel for dinner - baked potatoes prepared in the undersupplied kitchen.

Despite our tired feet, we decided we couldn't possibly miss the Boston Red Sox playing their traditional rivals, the New York Yankees. Catching the start of the game on the TV in the bare lounge, we headed along the riverside to find a suitably sportsy bar, and came up with nothing. Closer into town we did a little better at an Irish bar, but decided we needed more of an atmosphere and tracked down the Bell in Hand, America's oldest pub, as mentioned earlier. We were not disappointed, as fans jumped up, hoorahed and shouted as calls were made and homeruns scored....we are convinced we are lucky charms for sports teams, as a homeside has not lost during our stays in their cities (not that we've seen, at any rate) and tonight was no different, the Sox finishing the game with a spectacular and well timed home run with bases loaded... drunken patrons jumped up and down and roared deafeningly. The game over, we made our sleepy way home to the hostel and our beds.

Tuesday's child is full of grace...
We had a slow start to the next day, sleeping in, tidying, sorting out various souveniers and papers, and finishing up some letter writing. We got the hostel manager's directions to the local post office, although found that they were as useful as his directions to the riverside bars the previous evening - several blocks later and not a post office in sight, we asked a local who directed us straight there. Having completed our postal duties, we looked up to the drizzling heavens and decided there was enough afternoon left to warrant a trip to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts.

The entrance fee was a little steeper than some, although given the size of the place and the fact they let you come back for a second visit within ten days, it is a very good deal if you are in town for a little longer. As it was, we split up for a 2 hour speed tour of the museum's highlights. We spent a couple of happy hours wandering around the museum's collections, which included American Art, covering Native American arts right up to Postmodernism, Ancient Egyptian mummies and Mesopotamian art, centuries old Chinese artefacts, and Renaissance and late medieval works from Europe, to name a few. There was also a brilliant but small exhibition of important works from their permanent collection - called 'Degas to Picasso', mapping the development of Expressionism, Cubism and Surrealism. Juliet was thrilled with the Picasso drawing of a frog, and Jenny particularly enjoyed the Bill Brandt photography.

Leaving the museum we met up with Jenny's friends Alex and John, who had a restaurant in mind for dinner. Called Fire and Ice, it was exactly as its title implies - a veritable cornucopia of food on ice, buffet style but raw, where you could pick out ingredients and take them in a bowl to the grill in the middle of the room, where the jovial grill jockeys cooked it up Teppanyaki style, complete with the the sauce of your choosing. We had no end of fun constructing meals from the many options, in fact going up for seconds so we could have another go. Yummy! The guys were in the middle of their final exams for the year, so had studying to return to. We parted ways and headed back to the hostel to shoulder our own responsibilities....preparing for our first voyage in some time without the car, scheduled for the next morning.

Farewell to Boston
Waking to a miserable grey Wednesday (cities always get sulky when we're about to leave), we got up and breakfasted and finished packing by 11, slightly later than would have been ideal. After an abortive attempt to find the nearest subway station with heavy packs in tow, we caved in under the drizzle and got a cab to the Amtrak station. Arriving at the smart, bustling terminal with the rain intensifying, we boarded our comfortable train after a brief wait and were on our way to New York, New York with bookings for a large hostel in Northwest Manhattan.

An alarming text message from a friend arrived part way through our train trip, and we decided that to be on the safe side, we had best wake all our friends and family back home with text messages in case they happened to be sleeping on beaches at 5 in the morning, as a tsunami warning had been issued for New Zealand after an earthquake in Tonga. We were very relieved to hear from family later in the day that none had eventuated, but still it was a little more exciting than we would have liked. After heading South on the train through Rhode Island and Conneticut, past small towns and low woods and grassy waterways, we hit the outskirts of New York, the skyline growing and familiar forms coming into sight, until we disappeared underground, to arrive at Penn Station, Manhattan, bristling with people hurrying from A to B. Or in our case, unwittingly to D then C then B. But elated to be in New York for the coming week and with fond memories of the beautiful city of Boston.

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Photos

Fountain of Bacchante
At the gorgeous Boston Public Library, where we stopped to enjoy the sunshine in the courtyard.

Enjoying the sunshine
Stopping by the fountain at the Boston Public Library

The Donkey of Democracy
Which we couldn't not stop to photograph along the Boston Freedom Trail.

The Bell in Hand, America's oldest pub
Parts of Boston have pretty cobbled streets and this one particularly caught our interest!

Later that night!
From inside America's oldest pub...we stopped by to take in the Red Sox game.

The ceiling of the Grand Rotunda in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts
The panels are oil painted canvases completed in the artist's studio and brought to the Museum for instalation.

John, Jenny and Alex
Post-dinner and full of good food!

On Boston Common
Wintery, but beautiful.

Goodbye, jeans....
Tis a cruel thing to part with what is beloved most. Ju's jeans couldn't quite stand the pace, and developed a hole in an unfortunate place in Buffalo. She resisted the temptation to set them alight on a pyre to float down the Niagara Falls. Instead they went to their ignoble end in a trash can in Boston.

Comments

[Ryan]

Thanks for the tip
I was looking for a good restaurant to go to tonight, Fire and Ice it is!

[JennyandJu]

Hope you enjoyed it!
It may not be teppan yaki but it was a lot of fun :) Not recommended for those on calorie controlled diets! -Jenny