Homesick for Canada

Marie and I arrived safely in Boston, checked in with our lovely host, Matt, who's offered us his couch for a couple of days. We made excellent time on the 9-hour drive until we got off the highway in Boston. We decided on a new driving rule: Melissa is not allowed to drive in cities. At all. It took us 45 minutes to go about 11 kilometres. Hmm. It's a good rule, I think.

Marie and I then embarked on an adventure that took us to see the Red Sox play at Fenway Park. It took us about an hour (and several unhelpful passersby) to find the place and almost two to get back. First we got lost. Then we got lost again. And again. We asked about a dozen people to help us find the streetcar (called a Trolley, which I like).

Marie and I have started rating Americans on a scale from 1-10 in terms of politeness. 1 being a hand-in-face refusal to help us find our way and 10 being an offer to walk us two blocks to the subway station so we wouldn't miss it. We got one 10. From Canadians. Perfect ten to the Vancouver couple who walked us to the station and gave us fool-proof directions to get home. Bonus points to Matt who waited to make sure we got back safe even though we arrived an hour after we'd planned.

Being a gluton for punishment, I looked up the distance from Matt's house to Fenway Park. It would have taken us 40 minutes to walk it. I wish I hadn't done that.

Pictures tomorrow, perhaps.

An update from our Kitten Bureau: "The kitten was lonely today because we had to leave for my competition and we didn't get back until after six, but she got a lot of attention when we got back. I may have given her two treats, but it was because she was a good girl... and I felt guilty for leaving her alone."