We
like our new hostel. It has the vital ingredients – clean bed,
wifi, and hot showers. Also a full cooked breakfast is included –
brilliant! - and there's laundry facilities for guest's use.
We
sleep longer than usual because of our broken night's sleep –
getting off the train at Boston at 1.30 am. We just scrape into the
dining hall in time for breakfast – a few minutes after we get
there, at precisely 10 am, the steel shutter on the serving counter
is vigorously pulled down.
We
start talking to a lovely man (probably a little older than us)
called André
who is a classical trombonist, as well as having worked in medicine,
and having been, perhaps still is, a teacher of English Elocution.
He's in Boston to meet some friends/clients, but lives in New York –
and has offered to meet up with us for some sightseeing perhaps, and
a meal, when we get to New York. Reg and André
have a discussion about the history of America; André
mentions that his wife was Chinese.
After
a while I ask André
how long ago he lost his wife; it was to lung cancer, only just over
a year ago. He
tells us they were together for 20 years, and we can tell from the
conversation that he misses her terribly, but is getting on with life
the best he can. André comes across as a very eloquent and
distinguished man. He gives us his card so that we can contact him
in New York. We see that he was formerly a bass trombonist in
various orchestras including The
Metropolitan Opera Orchestra of New York and
Leopold Stokowski's American Symphony Orchestra (Carnegie Hall).
We've
already decided that we won't be doing much today, after our long
(and last overnight) train journey. We have 2 more train journeys to
go; a relatively short day journey from Boston to New York on
Tuesday; then, when we dock in Southampton, the journey from there to
Bristol on 13 July. Our trip is nearing its end!
As
I write the blog, a voice from nearby speaks over the tannoy, and the
music of a live band (and a good one at that) filters through our
window; loud enough for us to enjoy it, but not overpowering. We say
that if it's still playing a bit later, we'll investigate.
We've
arranged to skype Marianne, George and Arlie at 6.00 pm their time.
It's lovely to see Arlie in front of the camera – he's changed so
much since we went away! He's now learning to sit up! We're
thrilled that they are going to come over to welcome us home when we
get back – can't wait for a cuddle!
We
have a quick chat with Elaine, who's gone to Surrey by train for a
university friend's 30th
birthday. The music outside is still playing; we decide to
investigate. We find that the event is the “Boston
JerkFest – spice, fun and food!”
While
waiting to go in (when we arrive there's a break in the two sessions
of the event – the next session starts in a few minutes time at
4.00 pm) we start talking to 4 young people. One of the constant
phrases we've heard on our travels is
“Ooooh,
I love
your accent! You're from England, right?”
and
this is how these young people start talking to us. They've just left
the first session of the event, which includes an optional extra
price for rum-tasting, which we've decided not to go for – but
these young people have, and the 2 young men are slightly the worse
for wear, but extremely polite and genial with it.
“I
love you English, you're so polite!” says
one of the young girls, probably in her early 20's, “and
you know how to treat your women, with respect.”
She
then proceeds to engage in a long conversation with Reg (while the
other 3 young people are telling me all the places we should visit
while we're in Boston). The young woman explains to Reg that she's
just finished with her abusive partner after a 2 year relationship.
Then, she says to both of us,
“Have
I done the right thing?”
One
of the young men says to her, “You
can't talk about things like this to these people – you've only
just met them.”
We
tell her we don't mind, and that she most definitely has done the
right thing by ending the abusive relationship, because she's worth a
lot more than that, and one day she'll meet someone who will love and
respect her. However, we have to put her right on one thing;
domestic violence happens in the UK too; and we have our share of
lovely and not-so-lovely people, just like America does.
We
say our goodbyes, and go into the Jerkfest. There are stalls selling
wonderful Jamaican food; Reg has jerkchicken, and I have jerkpork,
with a rice and bean mixture, and it's one of the most delicious
meals we've had in America. It helps that we haven't eaten since
breakfast!
We
sit at a table with a woman in her 30's, and 2 men in their 40's.
The two men are gay and one of them tells me that they are getting
married in August. We get talking about gay marriage and the church.
At first when I mention the church, a closed expression clouds the
face of one of the men.
“We're
atheists.” he
says. He goes onto explain how the attitude of some churches has led
to violent persecution of gay and lesbian people in America. I talk
to him about the mega-church we visited, and about our own church in
England, where some years ago the young people campaigned against
violence towards gay men and lesbians. At this the closed expression
vanishes and the man explains some of the abuse he and his partner
have suffered.
“I
read the British press,” he
says. “It's
so much better in your country.”
We
still have a way to go, but do you know, I believe it is, and I'm
proud of that.
We
talk about the long hours Americans work, and the short or
non-existent holidays for many people – there's no law in America
apparently that says workers must have a minimum amount of holiday.
The woman tells us that she works at least 50 hours every week, and
in fact the firm encourages long hours; if you stay late, they pay
for your evening meal at work; if really late, they pay for your
transport home. The woman says her sister works much longer hours
than she does, and has never learned to cook, as she has all her
meals at work, and rarely takes any time off at all. Neither the
woman, nor her sister, have families.
Tiredness
has caught up with us; we make our way back to the hostel. Reg
relaxes on the bed with his tablet, while I go down to the laundry
with our huge pile of washing.
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