Around the World with Hardy(T)Around the World with Hardy(T)One of my favourite books in school was Arthur Miller's The Crucible, and so it was that Kerstin, Julie and I and a couple of others from the hostel that we'd met the night before on a walking tour of seedy Chinatown and exclusive Newbury St: Mercedes (!) from London, Sam from Dorset, Pascal from France and Nikki from NZ; ended up going to Salem, the scene of the witch trials in the book.
The journey to Salem is quite a trial in itself, as Pascal decides he's going to buy a car on the way! His Franglais is no match for the patter of an American car salesman and we had to drag him away before he parted with a large sum of money for a particularly dangerous piece of scrap metal.
On arrival, we
check out the absolutely appalling Witch Trials museum. Here I was expecting
a literary oasis, a cultural diversion, and what do I get? A cross between
Madame Tussauds and Blackpool funfair! A brief diversion takes us down to
the historic harbour, not without mishap in the historic stocks, and to
the Salem Brewery (this is more like it!). Hardy(T) recommends the Witch
City Red beer. I'd like to have done a lot more 'product testing', but I
was dragged off, kicking and screaming, to the Witches Village. This was
much better than the morning's fiasco. This was a museum of real
witchcraft, run by real witches. They didn't look like real
witches - they didn't have warts on their noses or anything - 
but when Nikki and Mercedes manged to upset
a witch and a High Priestess (there's a time and a place for cynicism girls!)
they certainly start acting like real witches, as they go about placing
a hex on us all! Of course, we think nothing of it, until we miss the train
back to Boston; the bus doesn't come for another 90 minutes; the bus is
full of potential axe murderers watching our every move; the bus passes
through some really dodgy neighbourhoods; the seats are about as comfortable
as a nun in a sex shop; the bus takes 90 minutes to get back to Boston;
spooky! We have to compose ourselves in TC's Bar, just around the corner
from the hostel and, after a few beers, all this witchcraft nonsense is
forgotten. Or is it...
Free donuts at the hostel - just how good is this place? - then my last morning in Boston is spent looking around Harvard. My, how the other half lives. It's end of term and all the poor little mites' Moms and Pops, as I believe one's parents are referred to in these parts, have come to collect their loved ones, take them home, feed them up, replenish their credit card accounts, &c. Still, it's good to get away from the noise and bustle of downtown. In the afternoon it's time to finish off the Freedom Trail. The northern end isn't so touristy, and it runs through quite an interesting Italian residential area, before finishing up at the USS Consitution. I don't get a chance to look around as I have to jump on the last ferry back downtown and I finish my visit to Boston with a last look around the harbour.
The next day, I jump on the wonderfully named Peter Pan bus and head down to the Big Apple, New York...