Tuesday 1 July – Back where we started!

Today we are taking our last American train journey – from Boston to New York – back where we started! The train is due to leave Boston at 9.30 am, and should, if on time, arrive in New York at 1.47 pm.

At Boston station we sit on a long wooden bench, next to a Chinese couple and their daughter, whom we recognise from our hostel. We get chatting, and find that, by an amazing co-incidence, the woman comes from Urumqi, (u-roo-moo-chi), where we stayed for several days when we first arrived in China 2 years ago. Urumqi was where we met the lovely Francis, the young Chinese woman who was studying English there, and who became our unofficial guide during our stay there.

The Chinese lady tells us that her English name is Susan, and their 10 year old daughter is Lily. (We don't think the man has an English name). Chinese people who are learning English or mixing with Westerners tend to adopt an English name, simply because Westerners find it impossible to pronounce, let alone remember, a Chinese person's real name.

Susan tells us that she works for the local government in Beijing, and her husband works for the railway; she has been drafted to Hawaii for a few months with her work. Her husband and Lily were left behind in China, but now that it's school holidays, Susan's husband and daughter have travelled from China to join her for 3 weeks. The family are using this opportunity to see few places in America. They are taking the same train as us, but going on further, to Washington, where we've already been.

Susan's husband speaks little English but they are a warm and friendly family, and Susan frequently translates what we are saying, and his reply. They are very interested in our trip 2 years ago from Bristol to Singapore by train, and in our current, nearly finished, journey across America. We give Susan the blog address for both this and the previous blog, but have to tell her that she won't be able to read it when she returns to China, because it will be blocked there. We exchange email addresses.

The journey from Boston to New York has some beautiful scenery – lots of water and boats (lakes or rivers) and much greenery. I'm writing the blog as we travel – it's useful that there happens to be wifi on this train (we've only had wifi once before on an American train); it means I can check a couple of facts on Wikipedia as I write.

Amazingly this train left Boston on time, and arrives in New York on time! Susan's husband kindly helps us off the train with our luggage – a much appreciated gesture. We say our goodbyes – we are back in The Big Apple!

Reg is quite excited that we're back where we started! The trip has gone well and my lovely husband has done an amazing job of organising everything. I told him that in another life he should have been a travel agent, but he shakes his head. Doing it for a living would have taken the enjoyment out of it.

At New York station, amongst the shops and the coffee bars, most people seem in a real hurry; but we find a passer-by who doesn't appear to be rushing, and ask him to take our photo – the end of our round-trip train journey!

Reg asks our taxi-driver, as he always does, where he's from. He tells us Bangladesh. Did he come to New York for a better life? He laughs, and says he doesn't know about that, but he likes New York. His skill in negotiating the New York traffic is amazing. He's patient and calm, and doesn't get cross with drivers who nudge their way in from all directions.

The driver tells us it's Ramadan (which actually we already know from a previous taxi driver). He cannot eat or drink between sunrise and sunset. How does he manage, we ask, not drinking water in stifling New York?

“It's easy,” he replies. “ God gives me the strength of mind to do it. I don't feel hungry or thirsty.”

A cavalcade of police cars pass us – at least 15 cars – flashing their lights and sounding their sirens.

“Something's going on there,” I comment, rather obviously.

“Oh no,” replies the taxi driver. “This happens every day,”

“They're all going for their lunch,” quips Reg, and we all laugh.

We are staying in the same hostel as we stayed in on our very first night in the USA. It's very unpretentious, in fact just a normal front door in a building, without any sign saying that it's a hostel; just a street number. It's quite a narrow building, but it's several stories high.

We're on the 3^rd floor, and there's no lift – the only hostel we've stayed in in America where we've been upstairs, and there hasn't been a lift. Two members of the hostel staff carry our cases up to our room for us – we are really grateful and they are happy with a small tip.

Our double room is basic but comfortable – the shower rooms and toilets are a few doors down the corridor. We think the price we paid is excellent value for New York.

The young hostel receptionist tells us we are invited to join others guests for free pizzas and karaoke at 6.30 pm. It's nice to be included, but we might give that one a miss; they haven't heard my singing voice.

We have one of our best meals in America at the restaurant next door to the hostel; I have vegetable risotto, and Reg has grilled tuna. It's delicious. Then we move to the bar next door to join a large company of Americans watching USA play Belgium in the World Cup. Naturally, as we're in America, we're routing for the USA! It's a cracking match, and we groan and cheer as appropriate; everything goes very quiet at the final whistle of extra time; Belgium have won 2:1. I text our daughter Elaine who had been out, but was able to watch theend of of the game. We agree it was riveting football, and I'm not normally a particular fan of the game. Nor are most Americans, we find; but they really love watchiing the World Cup.