Archives: 11th August 2001

We arrived downstairs to find a minor domestic dispute in progress. 13-year old Genevieve had promised to help Henry redecorate her room. Unfortunately, her social life had since intervened, and it was evident that no work would be done today. By the time we had gulped down a cup of tea and some Cheerios, the redecorating had been rescheduled, and peace restored.

With Delia as our tour guide, we caught the bus into Boston. We were under strict instructions to see the bronze ducks commemorating the children’s book, “Make Way For Ducklings”, and the famous Swan Boats.

John and I knew nothing about the book, which apparently resides on every Boston child’s bookshelf, so (to Delia’s delight) our first stop was to FAOShwartz toyshop to buy a copy.

On our way, we were overtaken several times by multicoloured amphibious buses, full of people ‘quacking’. These are the Boston ‘Duck Tours’, which tour the streets of Boston, and then launch themselves into the Charles River, to see the city from the water. This seemed an excellent idea, but we were hungry so we asked Delia to recommend a restaurant.

Fire and Ice is Boston’s answer to The Mongolian Barbeque. Delia had never been to either before, but she had heard it was good. (For those of you who don’t know these restaurants, you are presented with a bowl into which you pile any combination of meat, vegetables, marinade, and spices, and then you give the whole lot to the chef, who cooks it on a huge stone ‘barbeque’ in front of you. Personally, I prefer The Mongolian Barbeque’s set up, as they provide helpful recipes to guide the uninitiated/uninspired.) We did our best to advise Delia on a suitable combination (like most 10-year olds, vegetables were definitely out of favour), found a not-too-spicy marinade, and chose a salad. No sooner had we sat down at our table, than she found the ‘Devil’s Inferno’ (or some such) chilli sauce, and liberally sprinkled it over her subtly-spiced meal.

To give Delia her due, she did manage to eat about two-thirds of it, before asking to be excused …

We were lucky with the Duck Tour. Strictly speaking, they were fully booked for the day, but, just as we arrived, a large party had cancelled. We bought ourselves an iced ‘frappucino’ from Starbucks (Delia was still smouldering slightly …), and waited for the 4pm ‘duck’.

The tour took us all over Boston, past the park and the best hotels, through the historic North End, and into the river. The commentary was light-hearted but informative, and we dutifully ‘quacked’ at passers-by, and other ‘ducks’, while the drivers exchanged insults. Once on the river, the ‘Captain’ handed over the wheel to a few lucky kids, and Delia got to drive. Our camera malfunctioned, but despite the lack of photographic record, a very satisfactory afternoon was had by all.

We followed the turnpike until we were well inside the Massachusetts state line, then branched off onto picturesque Rt. 20, which we followed, more or less, the rest of the way into Boston. We arrived at the Valianti/Klim household in Brighton around 6pm.

10-year old Delia had been particularly looking forward to seeing us again, but was due to go off to ‘Riding Camp’ in Gloucester, MA, on Sunday. We agreed that we would do some sight-seeing with her on Saturday, and, after a jolly evening around the kitchen table, we all got a relatively early night.

Not wanting to spend the whole day on the Interstate, Brigid found a scenic route that apparently followed the shores of Lake Erie all the way to Cleveland. This turned out to be another navigational masterpiece from the woman whose watch is permanently set to London time …

The road did indeed follow the southern shore of Lake Erie, and did (from time to time) afford us a grand view of the Lake. However, for the most part, the view was obscured by endlessly expensive lakeside residences and trees, and the speed limit was 35 mph.

We ate lunch in a sports bar in Cleveland, and hit the Interstate for the rest of the afternoon.
It had seemed a good idea to stop for the night in Rochester, NY. From the map, it looked as though Rochester might have a pleasant downtown area, somewhere near the shore. However, upon entering the City, no such area was signposted, and the downtown area we did find was nowhere near the lake. After an hour or so exploring some of Rochester’s less salubrious districts, we bought ourselves a map.

The lake was not far away, but the city line stop a way short of it. Determined to find a lakeside venue for dinner, we pressed on north to Summerville where we found an excellent Irish pub on the water.

At last it was time to move on. For a whole week, we had been made to feel so completely at home, the prospect of climbing back on the bikes for the trip back to Boston, did not appeal one little bit!

We wanted to be on the road by 10am, so we set the alarm and were packed and ready to leave bright and early. One problem. Fred and Diane were nowhere to be found. Had we offended them in some way? We couldn’t just take off without saying goodbye! We had a cup of coffee while we considered our options.

In fact, all that had happened was that we had surprised them by actually getting up EARLY! (Remember, John doesn’t do mornings!) They had gone out to breakfast.

By the time we had finished our coffee, they were back. We said our goodbyes, and were soon on the road.

We had no particular plans for the route, and though we had to be in Boston by Friday evening, we wanted to see as much of the countryside as possible. We came off the turnpike slightly before the Ohio state line, and followed the minor roads through Amish country.

We stopped in picturesque Port Clinton for the night, where we stayed in the excellent Island House Hotel. The town was fairly quiet midweek, but the Tin Goose bar was open until late.

The first task of the day was to print off the tenancy agreement from Chard. We read it through, signed it, and Julie provided a witness’ signature. Now we desperately needed to find somewhere to fax it. We were heading into Chicago for a boat trip (an architectural tour, which Brigid had been looking forward to all week), so we jumped in the car, and headed downtown. By the time we had found somewhere to park at Navy Pier, it was nearly 12pm. The six hour time difference made it nearly 6pm in London – the time our ‘merchant bankers’ had agreed to meet at Chard’s.

By the time the fax was safely on its way, the boat tour had left, and with only a couple of hours until Ree had to be at the airport, we decided to content ourselves with a slap-up lunch instead.

All too soon, Ree’s time was up, and we were waving her goodbye. Although we had only been away from home for a couple of months, it had been lovely to see her, and catch up on all the gossip. Now we were on our own again, and, I must admit, just for a fleeting moment, a little homesick.

It didn’t last. Fred and Diane were out that evening, and Joe Miroballi had invited us to dinner. At about 6pm, we walked the 100 yards or so down to Joe’s, where we enjoyed a truly wonderful bottle of wine, before heading off to dinner at a local Italian restaurant.

Over pasta and another excellent bottle of wine, we compared British and American education systems, law, medicine … and generally put the world to rights. Not for the first time, we were easily the last people to leave the restaurant.

Today was to be Ree’s last full day in Chicago, and we were determined that we should see at least one of the City’s museums. Now, it has to be said, that ‘museums’ do not rate highly on Ree’s scale of ‘things to do’. However, the Oceanarium did have performing dolphins (and a very good gift shop) so we thought it a good place to start.

Out of the blue we had a call from Chard’s letting agency in London, saying that they had (at last) found some tenants for us. They would e-mail us a copy of the tenancy, which could we please sign and fax back, as the tenants (three 24-year-old boys … sorry, ‘merchant bankers’) would be in tomorrow evening to sign their half. We waited half an hour or so, and logged in using Jonathan’s modem. Alas, no e-mail from Chard.

It was gone lunchtime by the time we had parked the car, so we stopped for a burger and ice cream at one of the kiosks outside, before joining the inevitable queue. Just as Brigid was beginning to worry about sun-screen, a kindly attendant escorted about a dozen of the tailenders around to the disabled entrance – effectively jumping the queue. At the ticket office Alex thoughtfully agreed to be 11 for the day, and we were in!

We toured the aquarium’s many exhibits, gauping hopefully at the displays, trying to match the fish on the illustration with the fish in the tank. On one or two occasions we were confused by apparently plastic imitations, or tanks which had been partially drained for cleaning. But eventually we emerged at the entrance of the Oceanarium, where the ‘big stuff’ lived: the dolphins, whales and sea lions – the stars of the show!

The dolphins were well worth the wait. John and Ree were no strangers to Ocean World in Florida, but Brigid had never seen anything like it before. Perhaps surprisingly, Alex had never been to Chicago’s Oceanarium either, and was delighted to win a prize for answering some wonderfully daft question.

Soon it was time to join the rush hour traffic, to be home in time for dinner. John and I had invited Fred and Diane out to the Fuji Steakhouse (I don’t think we go in for Japanese steakhouses in London, which is a shame, because they are good fun), and Ree was going to the cinema with Morgan and Alex.

We awoke in a panic, realising that we had overslept. There was not a soul around, so we wondered if everyone else was still asleep. We made ourselves a cup of coffee, and went out on the veranda to read. In fact, Fred and Diane (presumably finding themselves the only people awake) had gone for a walk, and before long the kitchen was a hive of activity as a sumptuous brunch was prepared. (Nice to find that Sunday brunch is an American tradition as well!)

Jonathan arrived with Julie, and later on Mark and Gina Atilano joined the party. Cue more fun and frolics with the tube (Mark proved a particularly tenacious opponent for Fred’s manoeuvrings), and the jetskis. We disgraced ourselves by capsizing the smaller of the two craft on the far side of the lake, while trying to perform a 360°.

Try as we might, we could not climb back on board. One of us would manage to clamber up, but as soon as the second person heaved themselves over the transom, the thing would tip over again … and again … and again.

By this stage the small jetski (either through lack of fuel, or because it was water-logged) refused to start, and Jonathan’s help was summoned from the far shore to rescue us. In the end though, even Jonathan had to admit defeat, and he and the jetski were towed, ignominiously, back to dock. The whole sorry episode probably not doing much for our reputation for riding prowess!

We were under strict instructions to leave the house by 10am, in order to arrive at the lake house in time for lunch. However … it seems we were all suffering the after effects of a late night. Needless to say, we were agog to find out were Ree had gone with Julie and Jonathan. Alas, she could not remember … though she did remember trying various cocktails. ‘Nuff said.

When we eventually did hit the road, the traffic was appalling due to road works on the Interstate. We were glad to be travelling in the air-conditioned comfort of Morgan’s Chevrolet Tahoe. Pleased that John was acting as chauffeur, Morgan and Ree dozed in the back, while we tried (unsuccessfully) to decipher the incessant beeping and squeaking of the radar detector. We arrived shortly after 1pm.

The weather was perfect for a weekend by the lake. A holiday atmosphere prevailed. Three other couples had joined Fred and Diane for a day on the water. After a quick bite to eat, Diane persuaded Ree to take a spin round the lake on the back of a jetski. (Now, either Diane looked a safer bet than Dad or Fred, or Ree just reckoned that water would be a softer landing than tarmac. Nothing was going to get her on the back of a bike!) Anyway, we all took to jetskiing … it was even suggested that Brigid’s beach hut was just about the right size to store a jetski at home!

We would have been quite content with the delights of jetskiing, but Fred decided we ought to have a go a ‘tubing’. (Tubing is basically hanging on to a vast inner-tube, while being pulled around the lake at break-neck speed by a homicidal lunatic in a powerboat!)

I am not sure who enjoys this activity more: the person clinging to the tube, trying not to drown laughing, or … the lunatic (in this case Fred), driving the boat, trying to shake them off the tube!

At some point in the late afternoon, Diane produced a lethal concoction known merely as ‘Slush’, and the day faded gracefully into a mellow evening …

Brigid had arranged to meet her cousin, Alexander Stonor-Saunders, for lunch, she was also determined to do some proper sight-seeing in Chicago. We duly arrived with a couple of hours to kill before lunch, and decided to visit the Oceanarium. Unfortunately, being the school holidays, the world and his wife had had the same idea. By the time we had parked the car, the queue for tickets was already stretching to the bottom of the steps.

It was baking hot in the sunshine, but at last we arrived at the Aquarium’s revolving door. By this time it was nearly midday. As we entered the building, we were shocked to find that the majority of the queue (rather like the base of an iceberg) had been hidden from view … inside.

At this point we admitted defeat, deciding instead to walk slowly to West Adams, taking in whatever sights might be along the route.

We had an excellent lunch with Alexander at the Berghoff Café, then said our goodbyes, and went in search of a new swimsuit for Brigid. (Doing nothing in Texas for 3 weeks had had a disastrous effect on both our waistlines, and Brigid’s original costume was now just a little too tight …)

Fred and Diane had left to open up the lake house in Paw Paw, MI, so we had planned to visit some ‘biker bars’ with Mark and Gina. Ree was set to come too, but (oddly enough) faced with the prospect of riding pillion, suddenly had a better invitation from Jonathan and Julie!

This worked well. Mark and Gina arrived with ‘Sergeant Bob’ (a serving police officer, with whom John struck up an instant rapport), and together we set off in search of some of Chicago’s less well advertised night spots.

A good time was had by all, but don’t expect us to find our way back to any of Mark’s haunts. Neither of us has the faintest recollection of where we went!

I am sure there where more interesting things we could have planned today, but, by now, we all had things that we needed to send home. We put together a large parcel of unwanted clothes, maps, and souvenirs, and took the lot to the Post Office. After a side-trip to Office Max to pick up some extra bubble wrap and tape, we mailed Ree’s new lamp, and our parcel, home.

Brigid had long wanted a pair of smart sandals, so our next stop was to Miroballi Shoes (no co-incidence, Joe’s parents’ own a successful chain of shoe stores), then on to Barnes & Noble, to pick out some holiday reading.

We had dinner with Alex at Harrison’s Restaurant. The service was a little slow, so we whiled away the time playing ‘Hangman’.