2018 08 berlin and points north

      At the end of a long, hot summer, we were off to middle Europe. As is usual with our holiday plans, 'scope creep' led us from an initial few days in Berlin for the European athletics championships in Berlin, into a royal progress overland northwards by train, ferry and car to the northenmost point of Denmark.

      We have always had a fondness for Berlin, going way back to partition days, and today it’s a comfortable, prosperous city. Now it’s knitted back together, but still the scars of the Wall are visible here and there. As we walked the streets, memories of the cold war scenes we saw in the early 80s played like a faded black and white movie superimposed on this shiny new city.

      Scars too of earlier conflict: the plaques on the streets showing where people were dragged away to oblivion; the rubble site of Gestapo HQ, the old Soviet war memorial … But for all that, Berlin today is a buzzing, lively and very green city. We hit the tail end of Europe's long hot summer there, but temperatures started to fall away after the first day.

      The games were held in the stadium built for the 1936 Olympics, an exercise in stripped down classicism recently modernised and a fine setting on a summer's evening (despite its history) for some thrilling events. Memorable were a record breaking high jump contest and the men's and women's 100m relays, which were both won by the UK. I must admit to a slight chill when Germany won a gold medal and 60,000 people stood for their national anthem. Surrounded by those shaved-sides-and quiff hairstyles that seem to be compulsory for youths these days, warmly lit by the setting sun, it felt like we were in a Leni Riefenstahl movie.

      But the feeling soon passed. Wandering through the Tiergarten and the city's spacious boulevards and squares – filled with leisurely families on bikes, groups enjoying a beer in shady pavement cafes, and lovers just taking in the sun – all seemed right with this city.

      We also went to the Konzerthaus for a performance and a fine hall it is: its gorgeous interior has been beautifully reconstructed since reunification, like many a building here. And we walked for miles, through areas rich and poor – along the canal and to Charlottenburg, and to Kreuzberg, and the museum district. I was reading Goodbye to Berlin by Christopher Isherwood, and many familiar streets and names provided another layer of history to overlay the present.

      Next, we followed Christopher and went north, passing close to the Polish border, through an endless vista of flat arable land. Each village has neat red and white gabled houses, a couple of abandoned factories by the station, an area of allotments filled with ramshackle dachas, a water tower, a steepled church and a wind farm. Proceeding by smaller and smaller, more and more local trains we finally reached our destination: Ruegen Island. Isherwood stayed here in the early 30s, and his description of Sellin, “almost entirely of boarding-houses, in various styles of seaside architecture – sham Moorish, old Bavarian, Taj Mahal, and the rococo doll's house, with white fretwork balconies” is just as true today. The woods are still there, too, and we had a lovely walk through pine trees and beech hangers, from Binz, where we were staying. We even encountered the “little train” that took Otto back to Berlin, a narrow gauge steam train that still threads its way through the woods.

      Both resorts are surprisingly calm and upmarket. Binz has a long, carless promenade and an established clientele. The resorts here front the gentle arc of sandy beaches facing the “tepid shallow Baltic” of the Ostsee, where people came for a sea-bathing cure.      There is a fine Kurhaus and many villas from the turn of the 19^th century. We saw a surprising number of grandparents with young children: we speculated that this was a favoured spot for the East Berlin elite in the soviet era. Just out of town is an extraordinary 4.5km long hulk, Prora, built in the 1930s as holiday apartments for workers, but never completed due to the war. It just goes on and on: the nearer end is now being modernised, though the grounds are still almost derelict. We couldn't imagine who would want to live there.

      Continuing our northward journey we took the ferry to Trelleborg in Sweden, and then to Malmö, where we found ourselves in the middle of a huge street festival, the squares filled with stages, loud music and fast food stalls: quite a shock after the peaceful days on Ruegen Island. But we immediately moved on, crossing The Bridge (no dead bodies spotted!) to København and our train further north: a very comfortable, spacious train (and cheap) sped us across Denmark's islands and up the Jutland peninsular.

Aarhus is a big (by Danish standards) port city, and still very active, with an attractive centre. There is a brick cathedral, part romanesque, part gothic, with a huge tower, and a school that has operated continuously since at least 1195. Aarhus also has perhaps the most amazing modern public library anywhere, Dokk 1, by the harbour. We stayed a bit out of town in a classic 60s Nordic brick modernist hotel across the bay. Unfortunately, the management have filled it with bog-standard hotel furniture, ghastly carpets and crude paintings of pirates rather than mid-century classics. But it was still great to sit on the terrace watching the evenings draw in; the food was excellent (the Danes are particularly good at breakfasts); and there were lovely walks through the woods and along the beaches nearby.

     Next day we drove out to the gently rolling countryside of Mols Bjerge National Park and to Ebeltoft, a very pretty little fishing village of single storey half-timber houses with hollyhocks round the door. Later we were joined by Marc and Nigel, who joined us for the final part of the trip. We undertook our final northward stage, by car to the farthest point of Jutland, where we were to stay for a week in Skagen.

Pictures here: https://www.flickr.com/photos/keithuk/albums/

 

2018 08 skagen, denmark

      Where the Skagerrak ('Skagen-reach') meets the Kattegat, an expanding sand bar juts out into the sea, extending Denmark to the north and east. This is the site of Skagen (skèy-un). The quality of light and its remoteness led to this becoming a popular area for artists and, after the railway arrived as late as 1890, for tourism. It is now very much a tourist town, with a museum filled with the works of the Skagen Painters, a group that emulated the French impressionists, centred around Anna and Michael Ancher, and also, at the end of his life, Denmark's favourite writer, Holger Drachmann. The houses of the artists and the poet are preserved here as they were, as is the Brøndums Hotel, the social heart of their little society.

      We stayed in a very modern house out by the dunes on the Skagerrak side. We picked up the keys from the lovely people at the tourist office, Toppen af Danmark, and drove out to the house. There it was, like the pictures on the website, all black on the outside, all white and light and warm on the inside with huge windows framing the setting sun as we sat down to dinner. Peter and Mel joined us, having flown in to Aalborg and driven up separately.

      Over the next few days we explored the town and its surroundings. We walked along the beaches near the house, and the heathland further down the coast, where there is a quirky little natural history museum, run by an old couple, filled with stuffed animals and archaeological remains from the area. We went to the lighthouse at Grenen, from where you can walk out to the very tip where the waves of the two seas clash together. Out here is where they celebrate Midsummer's eve with a huge bonfire, and as all over Denmark, they sing Midsommervisen, the song written by Drachmann, who is buried right there out on the dunes. It was surprisingly busy on the Sunday we went, with people keen to stand right out on the final few metres of land with the waves lapping their feet. In the museum, among the many scenes of family life, is a huge painting of one such occasion, with portraits of all the Skagen set standing around the blaze, including the Anchers, and Drachmann himself playing the part of the great literary figure, complete with cloak and wide brimmed hat.

      The town itself is smart, with lots of expensive clothes and craft shops, and a splendid brew house where we spent a couple of boozy afternoons (because, inexplicably, it closes at 7pm): some very good beer and a pleasant stagger home afterwards. On another day, we drove along the north Jutland coast to Hirtshals, turning out to the beach itself where we drove for miles on the hard sand between Skiveren and Tversted.

      Peter, who had seemed rather ill when we arrived, and mostly stayed in the house, started to get worse and after visiting the local doctor, was told to go straight to the hospital, where he stayed for several nights. Luckily, he was well enough to leave the hospital for the last day and, not wanting to miss out, Mel and he drove on the same beach and got stuck in the sand, where friendly locals rallied round and helped to get them out. The hospital at Hjørring was immaculate, newly fitted out, all white surfaces and spotless, and he had a private en suite room with amazing facilities, in the corridor a fridge where patients could help themselves to snacks all day. The staff were friendly and unhurried. This is what the NHS could be like if it wasn't constantly underfunded (the Danish pay 25% more per head than in the UK).

      We finished up with a couple of hygge nights, long lazy home cooked meals with lots of candles and friendly chats. We all took turns cooking during the week and ate splendidly, the local supermarkets being very well provisioned.

So, back home, via Aalborg and Ryanair. On reaching the house, for the first time in months we actually felt cold: it felt good to wear a sweater again. Our slow traverse of central Europe was a great success, and I can imagine revisiting some of these places, particularly northern Denmark, some day.

Pictures here: https://www.flickr.com/photos/keithuk/albums/

italy

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borneo (and thailand)

   More pictures here.  Time for another trip out east, and we decided to focus this time on Malaysian Borneo - the rainforests and the wildlife, bookended by some relaxing beach visits.  Flying into KL then immediately on to Borneo, we had a few days relaxation at Kota Kinabalu, followed by the jungle in Mulu, the interesting history of Sarawak’s capital, Kuching, and the orang utan sanctuary at Sepilok.  Then a great couple of beaches on Thailand’s Andaman coast, before returning via a stopover in Kuala Lumpur. 


Kota Kinabalu:
     We stayed at the Shangri-La resort hotel, north of Kota Kinabalu.  The city itself, capital of the province of Sabah, is mostly very modern — so we spent all week around the hotel, which has a huge sandy beach next to a wooded headland. 
     This chain of hotels is renowned for its food and there are several excellent restaurants here, including a Malaysian open air terrace, serving hawker centre style food, and one of the best Indian restaurants we have visited.
     At the daily cocktail hour, we chatted to hotel staff and other guests as the sun set over the sea.  A large proportion of the staff are local, and very friendly.
     We also went on a nature trail over the headland, led by a very knowledgable guide from the hill tribe not far away, formerly headhunters.  From here there are great views across the plain to Mount Kinabalu itself, the highest in Malaysia.
Its brooding blue profile, which features on Sabah’s flag, is often lost in clouds.

Mulu:
     Via two small planes we flew deep into the Malaysian jungle, inland of Brunei.  This area is famous for its bats, millions of which roost in nearby caves and swarm out at dusk.  We saw hundreds of them around the lights of the hotel at night, catching insects with incredible feats of acrobatics.
     Our hotel, and nearby jungle walks, are set on high walkways to protect from regular flooding during the rainy season.  But the weather was fine for us.

Kuching:
     Capital of Sarawak and home of the Rajah Brooks, who ran it as a private fiefdom for three generations.  They seem to be well regarded today by many of the locals, as their rule was, by the standards of the time, benign.   Local tribes and the large Chinese population were involved in the administration, and local customs respected.  Certainly it was better than their experience as a Crown colony after the Japanese occupation, or its forced marriage with Malaysia later. 
     The locals resent the way the KL government has exploited Sarawak’s natural resources while giving very little back.
     Kuching is a pleasant city, its languid river edged with parks and terraces, and there is a large area of Chinese shop houses.  The old colonial buildings survive and there is an interesting and very old fashioned museum explaining the history.
     The new provincial parliament building is rather over the top, but all in all, a good city to visit.

Sepilok:
     Back to Sabah, where we stayed at the Sepilok nature resort, near Sandakan, next to the famous orangutan sanctuary.  Here, they take orphan orangutans (often captured by hunters after killing their mothers) and gradually encourage them back into the wild.  The young ones are cared for by the keepers and bit by bit they move out into the jungle, returning to the feeding stations where visitors can watch them.  There is also a sanctuary for the very rare Bornean sun bears, and we heard pygmy elephants.
     On our first morning, we saw several of them moving freely through the tree canopy above our villa.  Later, at the feeding station, one came arm over arm down a rope then quite deliberately peed on the visitors below.  Quite a joker. 
     The resort itself is simple but very pleasant, set around a lagoon with an open restaurant and bar to while away the evenings.  We were taken on a night walk around the grounds, where the experienced guides showed us hornbills, kingfishers, a catfish in a tiny stream, and some weird and wonderful insects.  We also saw troupes of two species of Macaques, wandering freely.

Thailand:

     So, we completed our trip with a little R+R in Thailand.  First, to Ko Lanta on the Andaman coast, where we stayed in the delightful Pimalai Hotel, arriving via the hotel’s speedboat through the dramatic limestone archipelago.  The resort itself stretches from the beach right up the hillside, with great views from the top. 
     Then finally a few days at our favourite beach anywhere, Bang Sak, north of Khao Lak.  The hotel staff put on a delightful homespun concert to mark Loi Khrathong and otherwise we wandered up and down this beautiful bay and enjoyed the sunsets.

urban green walk - new river and regent's canal

     We never finished the Capital Ring (maybe soon) but we had another good walk in central London, finding plenty of green spaces on the way. Joined by good local friends Lyn, Judy, Jeremy and Gabi, we set off on another sparklingly clear day (with just enough of a cool breeze to make it ideal for walking). 

     First through Finsbury Park to the wide open skies of Woodberry Wetlands: such a good local asset now, and this time of year full of interest, with nesting swans and ducklings and goslings galore. Here we picked up the line of the New River ('neither new nor a river') built in the 17^th century to bring fresh water from Hertfordshire to the City. The line continues through Canonbury past allotments and grand tree lined terraces. Further on it has been converted to shady gardens with an ornamental stream (more ducklings and coot chicks - cootlings?) that take you all the way to Islington, where we stopped for a drink in a nice hipsterish place in Camden Passage with a cool (both senses) garden. 

     Then on through old haunts in Barnsbury, to pick up the Regents Canal just west of the Islington tunnel, passing many canal boat homes, through Kings Cross and eventually to Regents Park, where we sunned ourselves in the Rose Graden to the spectacular sights and sounds of a huge Ethiopian wedding.

     Good company and the feeling of summer in the air, all the trees suddenly new and fresh leafed, the grass brilliantly green, the sky a clear, deep blue, the splashes of colour and the smells of blossom and flowers: that May feeling when suddenly all seems right with the world.  

sussex and essex forays

     A couple of day trips out of London recently, and quite a contrast.

     First, to Camber Sands and Rye in East Sussex, on one of the first hot days of the year in late April. The Sands are a wide, gently sloping swathe, stretching for miles, fronting the sheep-filled salt marshes towards Dungeness. This is probably the best beach easily reachable from London. Camber barely exists, a number of rather ramshackle single storey wooden houses and a couple of fish and chip shops, with a Pontins just down the road. The beach is backed by dunes in one direction, and a vast new sea wall in the other that cuts off a line of houses from their former view. The sea was sparkly and calm and the sky a solid china blue, as Ian, Gail and I wandered along and made the most of this rare day. Very few people there on a week day, once you got away from the car park.

     Then we took the bus back to Rye, one of the ancient Cinque Ports but now almost cut off from the sea. Its steep streets are full of vernacular houses, warm red brick and flint walls, with some half timbered inns. O yes, full of twee tea shops too, and we had lunch in one of them just by the magnificent church. The house had once been the vicarage, and the home of Shakespeare's collaborator, John Fletcher. Here we had the best rarebit I've ever had.

     A week later we were off to Colchester, 'England's first town', to see a new musical, Pieces of String, which turned out to be very good and will I'm sure turn up in London pretty soon. Colchester itself has a fascinating history, being the original Roman capital until it was burnt down by Boudicca. There is a vast Norman keep built on the vaults of the Roman temple that was dedicated to Claudius, the English conqueror. It is now a museum with many well preserved Roman artefacts, but full to the battlements on this day with primary school kids, apparently re-enacting the slaughter of the Roman garrison by the Britons, judging by the noise levels. 

     The town itself is a big contrast from the well polished cottages of Rye's Mapp and Lucia style bourgeoisie. The centre, though it has many good features – including the Roman walls, a Saxon church tower and a proud Victorian park – is crammed with the worst kind of fast food outlets, betting shops and a young population all in regulation skin tight jeans, the boys all with Hitler youth haircuts and the girls all with bobs and made up like an Egyptian sarcophagus; and all shovelling down those chicken wings and chips. Bieber and Kardashian have a lot to answer for.

new york

     So finally to New York and our friend Kathleen's apartment in Chelsea. As always we were able to spend a lot of time with her and she treated it like a vacation in her own city.

     We walked the High Line down to the new Whitney, by Renzo Piano, on the west side waterfront. The building interiors are excellent, and we saw there an exhibition of work by Grant Wood, known for the painting American Gothic (disturbing resemblance to radicals Bernie Sanders and Cynthia Nixon?) but who produced deco and realist influenced landscapes and figure studies that are beautiful but somehow disturbing. We also saw the museum's impressive collection of American art.    

     Later we walked right down the much extended Hudson river walkway. The walkways (also on the east side) are giving the city some much needed additional open space.

     We travelled farther afield on this trip than previously:

• to St John's cathedral (magnificent interior and, strangely, peacocks in the grounds!) and down through the further reaches of Central Park;
• to the Brooklyn Museum (another good collection of mostly American art) and Prospect Park (rather sombre on a grey day);
• to Williamsburg (a nice trip on the new ferries), NY's new vibrant (=hipsters and graffiti) hub, where we found a nice pub for an afternoon drink;
• and to the Bowery for a tour of the fascinating Tenement Museum, where an excellent guide explained the history of this part of NY, with its history of welcoming and supporting waves of immigrants through the years.

     We also took a ride on the Hudson Railroad, which travels right up that wide river, with sparkling views all the way, to Beacon, a very picturesque old industrial town, its mills now converted to lofts for prosperous commuters. There are also good walks along the river. All things we would recommend to visitors.

     New York is changing, as it always has, with lots of new very tall, and controversial, apartment buildings going up, and obviously a lot of money about. Yet there is still a lot of grime, old fashioned and abandoned buildings, and poverty, even in the better areas. Not to mention a dysfunctional transport system and poor quality public realm spaces. We have very mixed feelings about NY, but I am sure we will be back to enjoy the good things, the culture and the constant reinvention.

     Andrew and Angelo invited us and Kathleen over for an Italian dinner one foggy evening in their 23^rd floor apartment. With the windows open (due to an overachieving steam heating system), the sounds of sirens and car horns, and the vague impression of 1920s apartment blocks with windows aglow in the gloaming, it was a quintessential NY experience.

     For a finale we and Kathleen met up with dear old friends Joel and Paula to see Macy's spring flower festival and to have lunch in the new Italian restaurant on the top floor, light, spacious, quiet and good food too, and of course good company as always. 

     We're lucky to have so many good friends in the US and this trip was all the better and more memorable for them.

MD and DC: a tale of two lincolns

     

     Next, Lincoln kindly drove us all the way down to their other home Maryland. Frederick is another colonial town, that grew at an important crossroads: the main roads still lined with 18^th century houses, mostly in a rich deep red brick, which gives the centre a very attractive feel. It acts as a focus for a wide area and is busy in the evenings, with many bars and restaurants, which we sampled. There is also a well maintained linear park running through the town alongside its river, Carroll Creek.

      Lincoln and James' townhouse has been carefully restored and once again we had a comfortable stay. They have only been here a few years but seem to be well in with the local scene. On the Sunday they took us to their friends' 'Dark and Stormy' party centred around Stormy Daniels' interview on CNN, the latest episode in the soap opera that is Donald Trump. Some very friendly people there welcomed us into their home and circle.

      On a glorious, sunny day in Washington DC we walked for miles around the Mall, taking in the ceremonial heart of the nation: Congress, the Smithsonian museums, the White House and the Lincoln memorial. It was poignant to think about the high principles of the great founders of the nation, and compare them with what goes on in these buildings today.

Lincoln also took us to the battlefield site at Antietam, which gave us a good insight into the events of the Civil War. Beautiful countryside now on another brilliantly sunny day, but it suffered the worst loss of any US battle in a single day – over 22,000 dead on both sides – in a crude, bloody and brutal fight, which was ultimately indecisive in the war. Nearby is the Gettysburg field where Abraham Lincoln, the 16th president, on the verge of victory, praised those who fought so that his nation “shall have a new birth of freedom – and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” A pity that so many politicians today – and not only in the US – offer hatred and fear of the other, rather than inclusiveness and hope.

      Our great thanks to our Lincoln for ferrying us around and to him and James for their continual hospitality.

lyme, CT

     

     Time to move on again, as A+A returned to New York and we drove along the coast with a couple of stops, to meet up with Lincoln in Connecticut. Since we last visited, James and Lincoln have moved from their little house by the pond in Chester to a larger property in Lyme. Their new place is more rural and a nice blend of traditional and modern. 

     Snow from the storm was still lingering here, and we could see the footprints of deer that had passed through their property. The house incorporates an old stone building, now a magnificent double height living room, and a much larger more modern extension. Lincoln's interior design skills are well in evidence: we had a very comfortable stay. We had only spent a couple of days in New England before, and this time we were able to travel around and see much more, thanks to Lincoln, our guide. The towns here go way back, mostly established in the 1600s in colonial times.

     We toured many of the pretty local towns, all New England clapboard houses with a few in brick and stone, and mostly prosperous looking, all carefully maintained, with white picket fences and tidy gardens. Each town has its handsome town hall, its public library and fire station, and several brilliant white churches, each with a steeple and columned portico and a cemetery. Also a surprising number of expensive knick-knack shops stocking perfumed candles, ceramic cats and homespun plaques with corny sayings. Some of the highlights we recommend:

• a tiny coffee shop, Higher Grounds, in East Haddam, for brunch, where we were almost the only customers and the only member of staff did everything – serving and cooking – very proficiently and charmingly
• the Griswold* Inn in Essex, established 1776, with a very English pub feel to the tap room and a fine range of ales
• the Florence Griswold* museum, an old mansion run as a boarding house for artists, by a much loved if impoverished landlady, kept exactly as it was over 100 years ago, with many painted panels by the artists of the time as they developed an American Impressionist body of work. We were taken round by a well informed and engaging guide (British born but in the area since 1960) who knew the artists and their work so well that we almost thought we were in the presence of Miss Griswold herself.

• Litchfield, a very fine colonial town with wide greens in the centre and a wide range of 18^th and 19^th C houses (and a very expensive antiques shop).  
• Mystic, an old whaling town with a huge raising bridge, a reconstruction of the port from whaling days, and gift shops that live up to the town's name.

Lincoln also showed us another property in Lyme they have acquired, which they are busily doing up as two houses (one from the former barn). Impressive progress already – we saw the construction workers on site working to Lincoln's imaginative plans.

James joined us for the last evening and prepared an excellent dinner, and so concluded a very comfortable New England week. We came away thinking this would be a good area for a longer stay, and I believe one day we will do just that.

*presumably related but not found the evidence for this.

provincetown and cape cod

Next day we picked up a hire car and took a leisurely drive, via Plymouth (with its rather unimpressive Rock) down the Cape to Provincetown, to stay with Andrew and Angelo. 

     We took some of the more picturesque back roads, through picturesque villages with English names like Yarmouth and Brewster. A+A's place there has probably the best views in the town, right in the centre next to the public library, and up on the third floor, with sweeping views across the piers to Long Point with its lighthouse, the last gasp of the Cape as it spirals back on itself. They have had some traumas over the last two years as the building had to have major structural repairs, but all is now fixed and the apartment newly fitted out in the most elegant modern style. They are dear friends (we have known Andrew since university days) and meet up whenever we can. 

     They are always the perfect hosts, and took us all around the town, pointing out the quirky buildings and the historic sights, everything from tumbledown shacks to high modernism is represented here. Originally settled by Portuguese fishermen, it became a bohemian artists' colony in the days when it still seemed very remote.    We saw some of the results at the Art Gallery, which has a collection of newly found drawings by Edmund Hopper and his wife, whose troubled relationship played out in a house just down the coast in Truro.

      The harbour still has a few fishing boats,  one of which cut adrift in one of the recent storms and ended up against the breakwater.  But now of course “P'town” is mostly a tourist destination, at least from Memorial Day to Labor Day, and a very gay one at that; but at this time of the year, with just the long term population here and most of the tattier places closed down for the season, it has a serene charm.

      We went out next day to the Atlantic side of the Cape, to the old coastguard station at Race Point, and to Herring Cove, but were nearly blown away by the tail end of the nor'easter. The sea was wild, white capped and grey-green, under an intense blue sky with a couple of scudding clouds. Snow still covered much of the beach and it was not a day for a long visit. Just inland, and another day on, the beech woods were a better prospect, with many well trodden paths among the forest trees and ponds. 

     As always with A+A we ate very well, in a couple of the better restaurants still open and favoured by the locals; and one evening back at the apartment, where we had a very relaxing evening watching the sky darken behind the Pilgrims' monument as we tucked in to a great dinner.

boston

      It seemed like a good idea at the time: the north eastern United States in spring, a lovely time to visit all our friends there and see the area at its best. It had been a fairly rough winter at home by London standards and we were looking forward to some typical spring sunshine. Little did we know!

We flew in to Boston late in the evening and found there were dire warnings of blizzards for the next day. We had a quick stroll around the Back Bay area where we were staying, a very good introduction to what we soon found to be a prosperous and attractive city. Next morning, looking out, snow was already falling, or rather blowing horizontally in gale force winds as the third nor'easter in as many weeks swept up the coast. 

     We made a few forays out during the day, but the snow was relentless and by late evening was over a foot deep on the sidewalks. The city was quite a sight. No cars and very few people were out, and Boston's retro streetlights were haloed by the face-stinging blizzard as the trees became steadily more laden with snow. The only signs of activity were the snowploughs that circled the blocks in threes to clear the full width of the carriageway, and the snow shovellers clearing their own stretches of sidewalks. Otherwise the whole city was closed down: we managed to find just one coffee shop open until 2pm; and an Irish bar in another hotel. We ventured as far as Copley Square, where the public library and Trinity church loomed faintly though the swirling snow.

      Our own hotel, the Elliot, is old school but charming with it. Lovely, friendly staff in all departments, and an excellent restaurant, Uni, with mainly Asian inspired dishes. The breakfasts here were also among the best we have had in the US. That evening we retired to our suite, comfortably cosy as the storm continued to blow outside.

      Next morning was a complete contrast as the sun broke through and the wind died, and everything looked bright, white and clear. By now the snow had reached almost two feet in places, but the streets and sidewalks were miraculously clear – just huge piles along the kerbs, and in the open green spaces (and almost burying any cars left parked in the streets). Boston is well used to these storms and knows how to deal with them. We walked for miles through this winter scene, along the wide linear park that is Commonwealth Avenue, lined with huge Victorian mansions, meticulously restored; to Boston Common and then to Bunker Hill. We followed a heritage trail through the downtown area where many historic buildings are preserved. Boston has a colourful history, well worth exploring. In the evening we went to a fringe play at Boston's Center for the Arts, in the South Side – a recently gentrified area, with the shops to prove it. (If you too have a chichi children's clothing boutique and a shop that only sells hand pressed olive oil, you can be assured that your area has made it too.)

      So all in all, not the spring we had hoped for, but a good experience nevertheless.