Shipping up.

The day we used to explore Boston was soaking wet, and humid.

Boston is a city of concrete and stone.

The most 'historic' city in the USA, we didn't have to work hard to find interesting things in Boston.  Just wandering down the street took us past a fascinating cemetery.

Samuel Adams is kind of a big deal in Boston.

Even in death, John Hancock suffers from small man syndrome.

Paul Revere's stone was surrounded by tourists.

Looking for nuts? Or something more sinister?

And just past that was the Boston Common.  From there we turned back and headed to Quincy.

Boston Common

Every street we went down was full of students.

The business district was intimidating.

Quincy Market, just over the road from...

Faneuil Hall, at the other end of which stands...

Samuel Adams...

And this guy.

Boston City Hall is an achievement of brutalism.

That evening the Skeptic opted to stay in the hostel to sleep off his headcold, while the rest of us walked to Harvard to meet up with the Professor, who took us out for burritos and beers on campus.  We told him how much we were enjoying watching American Football.  "As much football as you want to watch," he told us, "that's how much is on."

Later we headed to a bar next to a bowling alley, where we watched the replay of the AFL final with the Boston Demons AFL club.

Harvard was quite pretty at night.

On the ride from the campus to the bar, I accused the Professor of racism when he made fun of the Boston accent.  "I don't think that's racist," he told me.  "Bostonians of all races have the same ridiculous accent."
We got home so late it was early, dissatisfied with the game, but happy with the amount of beer we had consumed.