Wakey Wakey: The Morning Routine
Ah, sleep. That sweet, precious commodity. And on day three in Boston, we struck gold again. Both of us slept like absolute legends – no tossing, no turning, just pure, uninterrupted, hotel-grade snoozing. When the alarm buzzed at 07:00, we were surprisingly ready to face the world. And by 09:00, we’d achieved that rare travel miracle: fully showered, dressed, and presentable to society.
Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We were on time, but Helen and Brian – ever the punctual pair – beat us to our 09:00 rendezvous by a solid three minutes. Three! We suspect they’d been lurking outside since 08:45 just to lord it over us. Fair play, though. They’re seasoned travellers and clearly not held back by hair straighteners and indecisiveness over jackets.
Breakfast Bliss (at a Price)
Breakfast was Michele’s call today, and she hit it out of the park with her selection: South End Buttery. Sounds charming, doesn’t it? And it was. Cosy, full of locals who looked like they’d stepped out of a J.Crew catalogue, and a menu that made you want to order one of everything.
The only hiccup? Not the most economical choice. Let’s just say, if you’re budgeting for a holiday, maybe allocate your child’s university fund towards breakfast here. But the food? Delicious. We both went for omelettes – a protein-packed start to the day. Michele, of course, skipped the greens due to her unfortunate (and very real) allergy to green food. Broccoli, spinach, kale – all banned. It’s basically a vegetable vendetta.
All Aboard the Tourist Train
After stuffing ourselves with overpriced eggy goodness, we strolled back to catch the Hop-On Hop-Off tour bus – that trusty staple of every tourist experience. Today’s destination? The Seaport District, with a side order of history.
First stop: the site of the Boston Tea Party. Now, we Brits have a bit of a sore spot when it comes to the Tea Party. I mean, who throws perfectly good tea into the sea? Barbaric. Unthinkable. Sacrilegious. We stood there, staring out at the water, and silently mourned the loss of all that glorious Earl Grey. But to be fair, the Americans have made it into quite the show. History, rebellion, and floating crates – what more could you want?
Seaside Strolling and Sunshine
Next up was a picturesque stroll along the harbour front. The weather gods had finally smiled on us. Gone were the dreary clouds and soggy trainers of yesterday – replaced by bright sunshine and that kind of blue sky that makes you want to invest in a yacht you absolutely cannot afford.
It wasn’t all sunbathing and sandals, though. The stiff easterly breeze coming in off the bay made sure we didn’t get too comfortable. Every time we stepped into the shade, it was like nature gave us a sharp slap to remind us it was still spring.
We admired the seriously fancy condos overlooking the water. Floor-to-ceiling windows, wrap-around balconies, and the kind of architectural smugness that screams, “I have a Peloton and a Labrador named Baxter.” We, meanwhile, looked like four tourists who’d blown half their budget on breakfast.
Poe, Coffee, and Gifts for Sons
Just when our legs began to protest, we made a quick coffee stop at Starbucks near the Welcome Centre – the one with the statue of Edgar Allan Poe looking suitably mysterious. He didn’t say much (he is bronze, after all), but we nodded at him like cultured people and carried on.
Helen, ever the thoughtful mum, picked up a coffee for her son. Apparently, even when you’re thousands of miles away, you never really stop mum-ing.
Then it was back to the hotel for a quick regroup and to drop off the coffee, which – let’s be honest – felt like transporting the Crown Jewels. No one wants to spill a caramel macchiato all over their suitcase.
Hotel Beer & Round Two of Touring
After dropping the goods, we grabbed our complimentary beer from the hotel – because who says no to free alcohol, especially at 3pm? And then, refuelled and slightly giddier, we jumped back on the Green Line City Tour Bus for round two of our sightseeing extravaganza. Destination: Quincy.
Quincy was charming in that slightly understated, “Oh look, there’s history everywhere” kind of way. We pottered about, took too many photos of buildings we couldn’t identify, and generally soaked up the ambiance like sponges in Skechers.
Dinner in Little Italy: Pasta, Price Tags & Pastry
By late afternoon, our bellies were rumbling again – clearly not over the financial trauma of breakfast, but ready to be fed. We made a beeline for Boston’s Little Italy, a place where every corner smells like garlic, parmesan, and happiness.
We landed at Pagluica’s, a restaurant with that classic Italian charm and a menu full of pasta-based temptations. I went for the Arrabbiata with linguini – spicy, saucy, sensational. Michele played it classic with a Carbonara. Simple, creamy, perfect.
Again, not the cheapest. There seems to be a running theme here. But the food was absolutely worth it. A bottle of wine might’ve pushed us into mortgage-repayment territory, so we skipped that and saved our pennies (and calories) for dessert.
Naturally, dessert had to be canolis – and only one place would do: Mike’s Pastry. You haven’t truly lived until you’ve tried one of Mike’s canolis. We grabbed a few and promised ourselves we’d wait until we got back to the hotel before indulging.
Reader, we waited. Sort of.
Back to Base with Dean the Chatty Chauffeur
We summoned an Uber back to the hotel, and in rolled Dean – a cheerful gent from Algeria who’d lived in the US for 40 years via a stint in Newcastle, of all places. Turns out, nothing bonds strangers faster than a shared love of British pubs and Geordie accents.
Dean chatted non-stop – in the best possible way. We now know his immigration story, his love for Boston, and his thoughts on UK sausages (too small, apparently). Genuinely lovely bloke and an excellent end to a long day.
Canolis, Beers, and Bed
Back in our hotel bar, the canolis were ceremoniously unwrapped, paired with a cheeky beer from the Trophy Room bar, and devoured with the reverence they deserved. Crunchy shell, sweet ricotta filling – a symphony in every bite. If you haven’t eaten Italian pastries are you even on holiday?
By 21:00, we were tucked up, full, and content. Today had been one for the books – food, history, a talking Uber driver, and the eternal question: why would anyone throw tea into a harbour?
Tomorrow’s Tease: Witches Await
We’ve got an early one tomorrow – 08:30 meetup as we’re heading to Salem, home of witches, wands, and more pointy hats than you can shake a broomstick at. It promises to be spellbinding.
And before I forget – today was Mother’s Day (the US version). So, a huge shout-out to Helen and Michele, who both carry the title of “Mum” with grace, strength, and the occasional eye-roll. And of course, to my own mum, Christine and daughter Sam– hope you had a brilliant day. Love to all the mums out there, whether you’re in Boston, Birmingham or Bali. You’re all blooming marvellous.
