US/Canada October 2014

Part 1

I am sitting in Heathrow T5 sampling Gordon Ramsay's 'plane food'.

I am wearing a golf top but there will definitely be no golf on this trip. I am sitting opposite Mrs K.  Golf was last week. Just flew in from Malaga last night after another excellent boys golf trip. So my attire is more a function of an unadventurous fashion sense. Mrs K on the other hand spent 15 minutes at home trying to decide what kind of rain jacket she should wear. The taxi arrives early and we are not ready.

Wayne Sleep just walked past (on his toes) which reminds me that I am still sleep deprived after the golf trip but not for the reasons you might be thinking, but I won't get into that now.  We are flying to Toronto on a Dreamliner. Hopefully, the name is appropriate.

This trip will take in Niagara Falls, Boston and Washington - our first visit to all of these places.  And including the trip to Costa del Sol last week I will be passing through airports 10 times in 14 days.  I know you are all feeling sorry for me.    It's just us two on this trip with all the kids back home working or studying hard (I hope).  

Based on our destinations, this blog should have much more of a cultural and philosophical bias (with no pictures of me on sunbeds to put you off your breakfast) but I am sure Mrs K will provide some moments of humour which I will be happy to pass on.

We drive from Toronto Airport to Niagara which is a fairly straightforward drive except that the satnav provided conks out just as we drive into Niagara.  It is not charging for some reason. Luckily we are staying at a hotel which has 22 floors and has its name prominently displayed so we manage to find it.  We nearly take a wrong turning and end up in the USA and there are the usual cross words in the car which always go hand in hand when it comes to Mrs K and navigation, but we make it.  Our room is on the 20th floor looking directly at the two falls - American and Horseshoe.  We are told not to miss the fireworks at 10pm but after a bite to eat in the restaurant we are struggling to stay awake with the time difference so that will have to wait until Tuesday night.  Not even enough time to get the scrabble marathon under way.  After my defeat last time I need all my wits and powers of concentration.

We are awake at 5am which is understandable and I get some dawn pictures from our extensive balcony – about enough room for 1 person.

The walk to pick up the boat to view the falls  is no more than 200 metres from the hotel but we have to cross two streets with the obligatory signals.  At the 2nd red hand Mrs K is fed up waiting and grabs my hand and steps off the kerb.  Unfortunately she was looking the wrong way and a car is forced to screech to a halt while we sheepishly walk across.

We board the boat with about 100 others, mostly Asian tourists. The boat has 2 decks and there is a rush to get the best spots on the top deck. Everyone is wearing pink plastic ponchos but we stand out with our red Niagara red rain jackets specially bought from the gift shop before boarding.  As the boat leaves the jetty and heads into the mist there is an even greater scrum to get down the steps as everyone realises that the ponchos are very little protection against the wall of water coming off the falls. We are in the melee trying to find a dry spot even with our sparkling new rain jackets and ponchos over the top. The water is coming across horizontally and my camera is getting soaked. The boat stops just short of the white waters which are really getting churned up by the incredible weight of water coming over the falls. And then we are on our way back - an awesome experience but a bit damp for it.

We retreat from the glitz of Niagara Falls with its casinos, Big Wheel, Hard Rock Cafe, Rainforest Cafe and the like and head to the stark contrast in the small town of Niagara on the lake. It is a tranquil place with quaint shops right by Lake Ontario. Mrs K and I bring the average age down by a couple of years. Never seen so many zimmer frames. Even the guys riding through on Harley Davison bikes look like they are in their 70's.  In this town, pedestrians rule. If your foot leaves the pavement the traffic stops which is very helpful for disoriented tourists like us. It is a breezy day but it is about 80F and we while away some time by the lake watching  just a couple of sailing boats glide across the lake. On the other side of the straight which leads into the lake is America, evidenced by the stars and stripes flapping in the breeze on an old fort.  For some reason a cannon is fired at 3.34pm.  It might signal the start of our scrabble match - which I win

Boston tomorrow

Part 2

On our last night in Niagara, we try out the top rated restaurant by TripAdvisor. The owner/manager tells Mrs K that she smells nice. Then he looks at me and says nothing. The restaurant makes as much as it can on its own, including the water and the wine. It sounds distinctly dodgy but the food is very good and the wine is excellent. Even Mrs K has some wine and after getting past the giggles we enjoy the quirky atmosphere.

Our journey to Boston is a little stressful as we are a bit slow getting away from Niagara and the traffic on the QEW (Queen Elizabeth Way) is anything but express. Even though we speed past 3 lanes of stationary traffic in the outside lane, thanks to being one of the few cars on the motorway with two people, we are a bit tight on time once we have found somewhere to fill up and Garmin has taken us on an extensive guided tour of Toronto airport and the surrounding feeder roads. We are sent to the wrong desk at the wrong end of the terminal and then find out that our ticket doesn’t include baggage. Just to rub it in we are required to lug our bags with us through US immigration. By this time I am pulling two suitcases and a brief case but in the rush Mrs K slips on a polished floor and with a pirouette that Wayne Sleep would have been proud of, hits the deck with our tickets and passports going in all directions. US immigration officers rush from their post to help and an offer of an ambulance is made. But thankfully none is necessary. And a further delay is the last thing we need. Mrs K is OK but a bit shocked and a bit teary. The baggage handler at the next line of US defence doesn’t help when he sings instructions to us about where to put our bag and where to go next. After showing our documents to the umpteenth person we are finally through and get to our gate with a full 10 minutes to spare – so no panic necessary but an opportunity to sue the airport passed up. The flight is about 20% full but there is no food on offer except for a bag of pretzels – which is a shame because we skipped breakfast. We arrive at our hotel in Boston at 1pm – a 6 hour door to door journey.

The next morning we are awake with the birds (again) and ready to take on Boston. The forecast is for rain so Mrs K has another decision to make on the rain gear. We start out on the Freedom Trail which is a walk around the historical sites in the City featuring many of the American heroes of the struggle for independence. It is a period of history which we Brits don’t spend much time on in school, preferring to concentrate on our past victories. For the same reason, Americans go to town on Independence. They read the Constitution from the window of the Old State House (photo below) which in its day was the largest building in Boston, now surrounded by skyscrapers.

Paul Revere was the guy that rode from Boston to Lexington to warn the patriots that the British were coming. It strikes me that it is very unlikely that he was the only one but he earned hero status in the city. Our walk takes us to the memorial at Bunker Hill in the rain. Ironically the huge obelisk is a celebration of a defeat at the hands of the British, but they lost well and it reinforced the independence movement. We pass on the 294 step climb to the top and head for the trolley bus.

From one form of culture to another we find ourselves at the Cheers bar which is now more of a gift shop with a pub attached – and they don’t know our name.

On Friday, we decide to visit Salem which is about 20 miles outside of Boston. I remember it from the film “Salem's Lot” (1979) starring David Soul. Maybe some will remember Arthur Miller's 'The Crucible'. I'm far too young for that. I am not a big fan of horror movies so it is with some reluctance I agree to go see the old Witch sights. I am keeping a close eye out for women in flowing robes and pointy hats. Its Halloween next week after all. We hear that the main street gets absolutely jammed on Halloween- what, the witches start messing with the traffic signals?

We plan to go to Harvard in the afternoon but in hindsight it might have been helpful to go there first to pick up a degree which you need to understand train ticketing in Boston. At the nearest subway station we are faced with a machine which offers us a ‘Charlie’ ticket and says mostly no to anything else. Mrs K spots someone and calls him over for assistance. But he is holding a broom and wearing a yellow jacket and doesn’t speak very good English, so I am not that optimistic. Before we know it we have deposited $15 into the machine before he tells us we are in the wrong place.

In Salem, in 1692 19 people were hung or 'pressed' (which means squashed with rocks) due to the testimony of a bunch of delirious young girls. Later the girls recanted their testimonies and the people that had been executed were declared innocent. So it was a short period of community madness over 300 years ago. It looks like the town has been making money out of it ever since. Slightly less quaint and more commercial than we imagined, so we take a swift look at a museum and the House with Seven Gables (apparently the location of a very good novel, available in the gift shop) and head back to Boston.

Those that don’t commute by train can tune out for this paragraph. The train is definitely of the last century. There is a burly guard who checks tickets and calls out the stations. The Salem stop doesn’t even have a proper platform - just a short elevated section where everyone can get on to the first carriage. But it does have wifi - take note South West Trains. The other thing we notice is how thinly staffed the rail system is. When I pass through Piccadilly Circus each morning there are countless LU staff just standing around chatting but Salem station has zero staff and the city centre subway stations only have machines. Bob Crow's legacy lives on in London.

While we are here it would be rude not to take a quick peak at Harvard. There is a statue of John Harvard as you enter the campus just under a massive American flag. Trouble is, he didn’t found the university, it was named after him. Apparently the statue is not an exact likeness as he was never painted and they also got the year wrong -1836 not 1838. Oops. A very nice setting but you can't beat the real thing in Oxford or Cambridge.

From there, the trolley bus tour takes us to the scene of the Boston Tea party where we are treated to a lively account of what happened back in 1773 when 114 cases of tea were tossed into the harbour to avoid paying tax. US corporations are still going to great lengths to avoid paying taxes – some things never change.

At the end of a very long day we limp back to our hotel for a brief rest before heading out for some seafood.

Part 3

We have booked Legal Seafoods at Harborside in Boston for our final evening meal. They make clam chowder for the presidential inauguration which makes it sound very fine dining. It’s not, but it is a very popular spot and the hotel concierge has to make up a story that it is our anniversary to get us a table by the window overlooking the harbour. We go along with the white lie on the basis we don’t have to get involved. The first thing that our waiter (Sonny) says is “So you guys are celebrating something this evening”. “Yes”, says Mrs K with a completely straight face. “It’s our anniversary”. The noise level in the restaurant is incredible, as we have experienced in so many places the US. Imagine 200 very loud and excited Americans shouting across tables at each other.

Sonny complements Mrs K on her bracelets. That raises a smile. We order the lobster (well you have to, don’t you?) but Mrs K is worried about the cracking bit. “Don’t worry” says Sonny “We’ll do it together”. Mrs K goes weak at the knees – just as well she is sitting down. It’s a fabulous spot. There are even people sitting outside in the late evening chill.

We arrive back at the hotel which has now turned into a bit of a nightspot. The bell hops have turned into bouncers and there are ropes set up at the entrance. I wonder if we are going to be turned away for being about 30 years too old for this crowd but the key is to just stroll in with confidence. Inside is another cacophony of noise which we try to ignore and hope doesn’t spread up to the 8th floor.

Just to make sure we don’t leave ourselves short of time we leave the hotel early the next morning and arrive at Boston airport about 3 hours before our flight. Mrs K gets special treatment again at security. “Leave bags outside of trays!”, barks the security attendant. “Oh, Michael Kors? You can put that in a tray. That’s a $200 purse”. We arrive in Washington and the air steward announces “Welcome to Dulles” But we are not at Dulles, we are at Ronald Reagan airport which is a stone’s throw from the Washington Monument. A short taxi ride later we are at our hotel just around the corner from the White House and directly opposite the US Treasury. Mrs K in close proximity to the biggest printer of money in the world seems quite appropriate.

Mrs K is not happy with the cleanliness of the room and more importantly the wifi is not working so we get a change of room and free cocktails for our inconvenience. Glen, one of the hotel managers, is very embarrassed and seemingly nervous as he accidentally hits the emergency button in the lift on the way to the new room.

We have our first really bad dining experience along the street so we vacate quickly and find a corner coffee shop where the scrabble marathon continues – I win my 3rd game on the trot to take the score to 4-2. Mrs K is deflated.

The next day we use our cocktail vouchers at the rooftop bar. We arrive just in time to see Marine One (Obama’s helicopter) take off from the White House lawn. I am not sure which way to look as there is a photo shoot going on in a cordoned off area of the terrace where a model is getting up close and personal with a wall.

It’s mostly a day of memorials to various American heroes – Washington, Lincoln and Kennedy.

It happens to be one of only 2 days a year that the White House Rose Garden is open to the public but we pass up the opportunity to spend a couple of hours in a long line and are content to take some photos from the railings.

Then we head for the Washington Monument. The Americans love their flag and the number around the monument seems a trifle over the top – but then we realise there is one for each state. The Lincoln memorial is stunning. For a fleeting moment Mrs K considers sitting through the movie again but then thinks better of it.

We make our way over to Arlington Cemetery where we see where the Kennedys are buried. When he visited just a few months before his assassination, JFK said he could stay there forever. He got his wish. We also see the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The guard is there 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. And I assume they cover the extra day on leap years too. Amazing to watch. So many graves and from so many conflicts. It tells you a lot about the cost of being a global super-power but the heaviest casualties came from the American Civil War.

By the way it’s also amazing to think that it’s only just over 200 years that the British set fire to the White House – it’s a good job they don’t bear a grudge. The other thing that I had forgotten is that when the British was at war with America, the French got involved and sided with the Americans. That’s why we love them.

Part 4

Monday. It’s been a very long day slightly spoilt by the fact that I managed to lose my wallet in the back of a cab this evening. But cards have been stopped and cash lost is painful but not a disaster so we move on. My reputation for losing things on holiday is intact.

Today we were on the hill, at the seat of power in the US. But the power brokers are all out in their constituencies, campaigning for the congressional elections on Nov 4^th. There is a huge visitor centre at the Capitol building which apparently receives 10,000 visitors on a busy day. And the good news is that it is all free. We enjoy an excellent tour by our guide Matt who takes no nonsense from unruly kids or people that do not stay in their groups but he is an excellent host. The building is undergoing some maintenance on the dome following the 2011 earthquake and the work will continue until next October.

We also get passes to enter the House and Senate chambers. As there is nothing going on in the chambers, the atmosphere is relaxed but even so Mrs K endures the walk of shame back to the security desk because she has to remove a dangerous weapon from her bag – a Kindle. A security guard also gets a bit aggressive when she sets off the buzzer on the x-ray machine. “Next time, take your bracelet off when I tell you to!” Maybe some of that resentment for burning down the White House in 1812 coming through? In the House of Representatives chamber there are two portraits either side of the main podium. Washington is on one side – fair enough. On the other is that French guy, Lafayette who was apparently best buddies with Washington. Mrs K has been noticing the French architectural influence around town (all designed by a Frenchman called L’Enfant). So we do all the hard work setting up the colonies and the French come in at the last minute and take all the plaudits? In the Senate chamber Mrs K asks the attendant “What happens here?” “We control the world” he says. But I think we all know that the two chamber system combined with the presidential veto means that nothing much gets done – we know that because we have all watched West Wing.

The Jefferson Library is just across the street from the Capitol building stocked with books sold to the US Government by Jefferson following the attack by the British in which most of the previous books went up in flames. He is described by the guide book as a political philosopher, architect, musician, book collector, scientist, horticulturalist, diplomat, inventor and the 3^rd American president but it doesn’t tell us what he did in his spare time.

We walk a few blocks to the Ford Theatre where Abraham Lincoln was shot. It is owned by the US Government National Parks and a Park ranger gets up on stage and gives a 45 minute talk about the events of that evening in some detail. Lincoln was shot in the head at point blank range but survived until the next morning.

On Tuesday morning we have the luxury of a late check out before our evening flight so we have time to take in the Museum of American History in the morning.

On the way to breakfast to a place just along the street, a tramp pulls up her skirt and urinates over the pavement like a dog. I say a dog, but a dog would have been slightly more discreet. No more than 200 metres from where Obama is having his breakfast (if he is at home). Democracy has achieved great things but big problems remain.

At the museum, Nora, our guide, who has just come back from a trip to London, takes us on a whistle stop tour around the exhibits which includes a room which displays a huge American flag from the war together with the national anthem playing in the background. They do love their flag.

Interesting fact about the coinage dating back to 1652. The British ordered the Americans to stop minting gold coins. So they carried on for thirty years with the year 1652 marked on them – an early form of QE. We also see exhibits of ships, cars, railway, food, first lady dresses and wars.

I think I am just about done with museums, waiting minutes to cross wide streets and living out of a suitcase. Time to come home. Thanks for reading.