To Trust or Not to Trust

That is the question. The answer is "Not." We checked the weather forecast before setting out Tuesday morning. It said it would be warm (check) and humid (check), but remain dry until 20% chance of precip later in the day. In the Pacific NW, 20% means something akin to 0, right? Not so here apparently--or it was simply a bad forecast. It happens.

One of the primary things we had in mind for this day was exploring Beacon Hill thoroughly. About 20-30 minutes into our ramble, we started getting spritzed with rain. That turned into a shower, which turned into solid rain--for a couple hours. We, who can no longer claim to be Northwesterners, had left our 2 umbrellas and 2 rain jackets in the hotel. We ducked into doorways here and there, visited a couple shops, finally decided to have lunch. We were very soggy, and my hairdo bore little resemblance to the one I was sporting when we left the hotel.

Monday's lesson: Don't underestimate distances.
Tuesday's lesson: Never leave your hotel without an umbrella or some sort of weather-impervious garb.








By the time we finished our pizza, the rain had abated and we resumed our trek up and down the streets of Beacon Hill. The rain didn't enhance our experience, but neither could it diminish the charm of Beacon Hill and Louisburg Square.














Finding an opportunity to prove that we do not learn from our experiences, we set out in the evening to walk to our restaurant. The address sounded straightforward. Our hotel is at 90 Tremont, and we were going to Hamersley's Bistro (a restaurant we had visited many years ago) at 553 Tremont. What could be easier? Our first clue that this wasn't going to be a cakewalk was when, after 10 minutes of walking, we had only progressed to 140 Tremont. Uh oh.

By the time we got to the Mass Turnpike, apparently Tremont turned. We did not. We dutifully kept going straight down the same road--or so we thought. We eventually saw that we were no longer on Tremont, though we'd never veered in our course. We ran into a lady who was nice enough to direct us west to Tremont. At this point, we once again had to call ahead to our restaurant and ask for (easily received) leniency. Forty minutes into our very steamy evening "stroll," we reached our destination. It turned out to be worth it--we had a very nice dinner and evening--but I wouldn't choose to approach it quite the same way again, especially not when it's about 80 out, with humidity probably around the same.

For years, Jerry has had to listen to me suggesting we try living in Boston. His common retort has been to remind me that it's humid in Boston. (He knows how much I hate humidity!) We are having a very nice time, and we do love Boston, but this time around Jerry hasn't heard so much as a peep from me about living here.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad