Who did the district sleep with?

The drive from Boston to Washington D.C. took a little longer than we expected.  We had to backtrack through New York, then through Baltimore and into D.C.

So I'm driving, driving, driving...

When we arrived, we found that the "hostel" we had booked was ambitiously defined.  It was in a part of town which I could succinctly describe as "dodgy," and was a guy's house, which he had called a hostel.  We stepped back out the door to "find our passports," and looked for alternative lodgings.

Powering through Baltimore.

We wound up staying right in the heart of the city, five blocks from the White House.  We made our way south to find some dinner, and ate at a place called Harry's, because it served hamburgers and had the football on television.  Both the Liar and the Skeptic opted to head to bed early, so the Talk and I watched the Giants/Bears game and ate cake.

"One serve" of cheesecake at Harry's.

We didn't know, at the time, how sick the Liar really was.

Hahvahd: Making you smahtah.

The weather in Boston improved dramatically the next day.  Three of us were nursing minor hangovers, so we went for a walk to get some breakfast before heading back to the Harvard campus, to have a look at it in daylight.

You can see why people row here.

Universities are a bit different in the USA, because all the students live in or near the campus.  Even on weekends they're humming with activity, and have shops, restaurants and recreational sites everywhere.

Harvard's pretty by day, too

There's also a noticeable difference in the amount of money which has gone into building the campus.

Some of the buildings clearly show the school's European heritage.

Ducks!

The boathouse.

That was our last full day in Boston, and we spent the afternoon planning the next few steps of our journey.  The next day we would head to Washington D.C.

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.

Chowdah!

We picked up our car from east 31st street, where the desk-lady expressed concerns about fitting our luggage into the trunk of our Impala.

Maggie, our Chevy Impala

Naturally the car's boot was so large we could have fit our bags, the Liar and a spare tire in it.

My first experience driving in the States was a little unnerving, but at least wasn't too involved.  Because the rental garage was on 31st, I just had to drive west a handful of blocks then turn into the Lincoln tunnel, and we were on our way to Boston.

 The trick is not driving on the wrong side of the road, but the wrong side of the car.  Both the Skeptic and I, in our first days driving, tended to drift to the right because we were sitting in the wrong side of the lane.

A navigational snafu on my part meant we got to see more of Boston than we intended on that first evening, but eventually we made it to our hostel in Alston.  Straight away we went to a local bar for some dinner, where we got to try clam chowdah.

Chowdah!

It was delicious, though there was some initial confusion when it was served with 'oyster crackers,' leading to the Liar asking our waitress; "how do I apply these?"