Boston
We rose in the wee small hours of the morning to take the shuttle to JFK for what proved to be the shortest flight I've ever been on.
JetBlue Flight 1022, from NYC to Boston, is scheduled to take an hour and twelve minutes: we did it in 47. We were on the ground, baggage claimed and waiting for the free shuttle bus to the Blue Line even before our anticipated landing time.
Our hotel was a great find: walking distance from the Red, Green and Orange lines, a literal stone through from the Charles River - and the room's chairs are Herman Miller Aeron chairs.
We checked in, then took the Red Line up to Harvard to wander around Harvard Yard. (We did not have to park our car.) I know very little about Harvard: from an outsider's view, having been to neither, it didn't seem all too different to Sydney Uni. Then again, a university is as much its teachers and students as it is its buildings and grounds.
Lunch was at a burger joint called Mr Bartley's, apparently a Harvard institution - and I can see why. A menu of thirty-something burgers, all named for public figures: I had the Michelle Obama (blue cheese and Cajun spices), Meg the Bill Clinton (BBQ with cheese). Susan avoided political scandal and ordered a Burger Supreme.
Comfortably full after the delicious repast, we set off down Broadway to continue my quest for monkey shoes. I had thought I'd read on the VFF site that there were one or two stores along here which sold them. No such luck (perhaps I was conflating it with New York?), but it was a nice overview of classic New England architecture. Community gardens bright with ripening tomatoes were situated every few blocks, and we exchanged smiles with an old man tending his own tomato plants in the shelter of a fruiting peach tree.
From Broadway we headed down Charles Street, over the red brick cobbles, towards Boston Common. Serendipity! A handwritten side on the pavement: "barefooting". A yoga store selling Vibram Five Fingers: the monkey shoes had been found!
On Boston Common we watched a British tourist feed shortbread to voracious squirrels, and stood in the shade of a curious tree, a weeping beech - its branches grew downwards again, forming a leafy dome over its own trunk.
Then to Cheers - or rather, the Bull and Finch - to sit and have a beer in Norm's chair. Some cliches must be enjoyed, along with a pint of Sam Adams Boston Brick Red. The gum-chewing bartender in his Red Sox baseball cap was what I'm coming to recognise as a very typical Bostonian. He and Meg found each other's accents mutually unintelligible - getting a soft drink became a challenge.
From there we were at a bit of a loose end: we bought trousers for Susan at Old Navy, then headed back to the hotel to check out the gym.
Dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, across the road from our hotel, was a mixed bag: our waitress was the best we've had on this trip, friendly and helpful beyond anything we'd experienced in New York. On the other hand, the servings were eye-poppingly large - each could have easily been dinner for two.
We split a slice of Key Lime cheesecake between the three of us, and it was delicious.
JetBlue Flight 1022, from NYC to Boston, is scheduled to take an hour and twelve minutes: we did it in 47. We were on the ground, baggage claimed and waiting for the free shuttle bus to the Blue Line even before our anticipated landing time.
Our hotel was a great find: walking distance from the Red, Green and Orange lines, a literal stone through from the Charles River - and the room's chairs are Herman Miller Aeron chairs.
We checked in, then took the Red Line up to Harvard to wander around Harvard Yard. (We did not have to park our car.) I know very little about Harvard: from an outsider's view, having been to neither, it didn't seem all too different to Sydney Uni. Then again, a university is as much its teachers and students as it is its buildings and grounds.
Lunch was at a burger joint called Mr Bartley's, apparently a Harvard institution - and I can see why. A menu of thirty-something burgers, all named for public figures: I had the Michelle Obama (blue cheese and Cajun spices), Meg the Bill Clinton (BBQ with cheese). Susan avoided political scandal and ordered a Burger Supreme.
Comfortably full after the delicious repast, we set off down Broadway to continue my quest for monkey shoes. I had thought I'd read on the VFF site that there were one or two stores along here which sold them. No such luck (perhaps I was conflating it with New York?), but it was a nice overview of classic New England architecture. Community gardens bright with ripening tomatoes were situated every few blocks, and we exchanged smiles with an old man tending his own tomato plants in the shelter of a fruiting peach tree.
From Broadway we headed down Charles Street, over the red brick cobbles, towards Boston Common. Serendipity! A handwritten side on the pavement: "barefooting". A yoga store selling Vibram Five Fingers: the monkey shoes had been found!
On Boston Common we watched a British tourist feed shortbread to voracious squirrels, and stood in the shade of a curious tree, a weeping beech - its branches grew downwards again, forming a leafy dome over its own trunk.
Then to Cheers - or rather, the Bull and Finch - to sit and have a beer in Norm's chair. Some cliches must be enjoyed, along with a pint of Sam Adams Boston Brick Red. The gum-chewing bartender in his Red Sox baseball cap was what I'm coming to recognise as a very typical Bostonian. He and Meg found each other's accents mutually unintelligible - getting a soft drink became a challenge.
From there we were at a bit of a loose end: we bought trousers for Susan at Old Navy, then headed back to the hotel to check out the gym.
Dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, across the road from our hotel, was a mixed bag: our waitress was the best we've had on this trip, friendly and helpful beyond anything we'd experienced in New York. On the other hand, the servings were eye-poppingly large - each could have easily been dinner for two.
We split a slice of Key Lime cheesecake between the three of us, and it was delicious.