America's "Special Relationship" With Us - part ten

Boston is not the easiest of cities to navigate. Particularly without a map. Several key roads were closed due to construction works, and the person at whose house we were supposedly staying, didn’t seem to know any other routes. Mind you, he did only move there twenty years ago.

Still, after driving around for an hour and a half, we eventually stumbled upon M’s not-so-humble home. It resembled a huge Victorian townhouse in both architecture and condition. It was big and cold inside, but the outside temperature was minus sixteen, so we were grateful for the relative warmth.
The bedrooms were situated at the top of the house, and were warm and comfortable (as heat rises – thank physics for that). We fell asleep almost instantly, to awake the following morning to face another fiercely frosty day.

Not allowing the cold to freeze our spirits, we barricaded our bodies with layers of clothing and set out to explore the city. I have to say that of all the places I’ve been in America (including Ohio, Florida, San Francisco, LA, New York and Michigan), Boston is my favourite. The reasons for this are difficult to articulate.
There’s something about the atmosphere, the vibe; it’s just not quite so, well, American. I guess it’s the cosmopolitan nature of the place that appeals. Apparently – and we were told this on several occasions – Bostonians have a reputation for being rather unfriendly and aloof. We saw no evidence of this.

From the moment we were welcomed into our host’s abode, we felt right at home basking in his hospitality. We did have to endure his grandiloquence though. And, boy, could he talk.