Boston

15th September, 2006: I get an email from B, asking if she can introduce us to a friend who just moved to the UK. Virtual introductions done, we end up meeting said friend,  L,  at an event in London. L and her husband, J, had moved to live in Durham for a few years.

There was much hanging out over the years since, including us crashing at their flat in the chaos of the last weekend before they relocated back to the US, and them visiting us in the chaos of our last few days in the UK before our trip to Vancouver. L and J told us a lot about Boston, their friends and community there especially, so, of course, when we had the chance to.. we had to visit them in Boston. This was slightly complicated by the fact that they don’t live in Boston any more – instead, they live in State College, which I’m reliably informed is “a university town in the arse-end of no-where”. But thankfully, lots of their friends still live in Boston, and S and R (dispite never having met me at all before) offered us all the chance to stay at their house. Not only the chance to stay at their house, in fact, but the chance to stay at their house along with L and J, and be spoiled silly in the process.

This was a plan of much awesomeness, and I would  have been looking forward to it immensely – had I not developed food poisoning on the train from Chicago. I had cinnamon french toast for breakfast, and scrummy as it was, I have the horrible feeling that it was cooked earlier and reheated. In any event, it was the only thing I ate before I got ill that Veronica didn’t also eat, and by lunchtime, I was feeling a bit ill. By mid-afternoon, I was feeling very ill, and all I could do was sleep. I was so glad we had a bedroom on the train, because I really couldn’t have coped with other people in my space. As the day went on, I got more and more and more ill. By the time the train arrived in Boston, I could barely carry my bags the hundred yards from the train to the station, and I was cursing Veronica  for stopping and taking a picture of the Boston station sign. We’d got in 30 minutes early, dispite the snow storms, so we called L , and she, S and J came to collect us. The rest of that night is a blur, I believe we got back to the house, and I went straight to bed. The first part of the week is a blur, I think it was some time till I emerged from the haze of illness. I didn’t eat properly for days. I couldn’t concentrate, and wasn’t entirely aware of what was going on around me. So, I didn’t really appreciate the things I was doing till later in the week. Which was a real shame.. because..

On Tuesday, we went to a genuine Irish pub. It had genuine Irish staff, genuine Irish bands playing in the evening, decent Irish food, half-decent Guinness.. and ahem.. no brown sauce.

Then we went on to the Diesel Cafe, which L talked endlessly about missing while she was in the UK. I’d been looking forward to being there, meeting some of the Boston community, but I really wasn’t very present – the time drifted by in a blur, and I don’t remember much of it. Apologies to anyone I met there and didn’t meet again later, I probably don’t remember.

On Wednesday, we took a trip to Salem. It was very much out of season, so it was really a quick wander through the town, poking in various witchy shops, checking out the goth clothing shop, and getting a quick bite to eat. It was a pretty surreal experience, especially while still feeling somewhat ill. The shops were pretty touristy, really, but I guess that’s to be expected. Not that I had any real senses capable of detecting genuine witchiness that day.

Then, in the evening, we visited friends of  S ‘s, M & K, to learn how to make dolma (stuffed vine leaves). For me, this was more “learn how to eat stuffed vine leaves”, as I didn’t really make it off the sofa. I confess I’d been somewhat wary of the evening, I’d never enjoyed stuffed vine leaves before – when I’ve had them, they’ve been from a deli, and probably sitting soaking in olive oil for days. They were good though, and I wished I felt well enough to really enjoy them properly. Clearly the secret is making them yourself so you can eat them fresh.Thursday.. well, that was secret day. Not telling anyone what I did that day.  Thankfully I was feeling mostly better, though. In the evening, we visited S’s friends P & A for dinner. P made a simple fish dish, and honestly it was wonderful, the first food I’d enjoyed since Monday. Clearly, I was recovered.

Just as well, because Friday was a party in our honour at S ‘s house, with the theme of American Comfort Food. It was a potluck, where people brought a dish that typified comfort food for them. There were 77 people there, felt like pretty much their whole community of friends came – although I’m told this was a small party for  S’s house (there have been over 200 at summer parties).  I was feeling lots better, so did get to enjoy the food, and enjoy hanging out with people. There was lots of great food – my favourites probably the venison stew, mac’n’cheese, tuna casserole (weirdly with crisps on top!), egg-nog,  cookie dough, dulche du leche, salt and sweet popcorn – but there were so many more things, I could have eaten till I burst. There was one more amazing thing about the party though: B, who we’d known since 2003 but never actually met, made it to the party. Felt right her being there, as we’d never have been there without her introduction back in 2006. There was an amazing hug when she found me in the kitchen when she came in, then of course, she had to sneak up on Veronica and deliver more hugs.

B also came round for a while on Saturday to hang out with us.. When you’re catching up on 7 years, though, there’s never enough time. I didn’t get to see anything of Boston as a tourist, really, but that wasn’t why I was there. I wanted to see the Boston that L had talked about, meet the people she’d talked about, see things the way she did. I got to do all of that, and spend a whole week in wonderful company with her, J, S, R and family. It was an amazingly warm, welcoming space to spend time in. I’m not normally very comfortable around other people when I feel ill, but I felt very accepted and safe there. There didn’t feel like there was enough time, not by half, but all that says was that it was a very good space to be in.