Keeping track of Miriam: Arrival etc.

Of course she was re-packing at the last minute. Col turned up ten minutes early to take her to the airport, and she was still tidying the house up ready for the house-sitters! But anyway we only left ten minutes late – and in the end we all made it, and soon Miriam and Bif and I were winging our way to the US in a Boeing 747-400 with individual television screens and an entertainment system that had to be rebooted three times after take-off from Sydney before it would work. Not that I could watch anything, of course. She had put me inside a sock in her computer bag, and shoved the bag into the overhead bin. While up there Bif and I got to know each other, had a bit of a chat. He's filled with polystyrene balls and I'm made of ceramic. I think we both agreed it was great to compare notes; you know, get another perspective.
Here's a picture of us at the kitchen table in the condo in Provincetown. Bif is the bovine. Not sure about the gender, and from what I can gather, there's no udder and no pizzle. So I'm none the wiser, really!

Anyway, Bif can be handy when I want to see out the back door.

I'm Noam by the way. I used to hang out under the tomatoes in the garden at Kew. Talking to the Higgs Boson and the snails. Oh happy days.

We're all a bit weary. Melbourne, Sydney, Los Angeles, New York. Then on the air train to station C Federation Gardens, into a rental car and on the road. She ended up with mid-size car instead of the compact one she could afford... Nancy, the lady at the counter was a bit lacking in the eyesight department or maybe she gave us the upgrade on purpose. She peered out into the parking lot and said "Take the car in bay 21" Which we did. When we got out there, Del, who seemed to be doing a bit of everything around the National Car Rental office said "That's not the compact car you ordered, that's a mid-size." After a couple of dozen hours of travel, mid-size and compact look pretty much the same to us, I'm afraid. They both drive on roads that lead to beds, for example. But when Miriam said to Del "Just point me to the one I'm supposed to be in then," he said not to worry. "I'll just tell 'em there was something wrong with the other one." OK then. For those who care, we have a Pontiac Grand Am thingy. Gold. With Nebraska plates (I kid you not!)

We had directions to get onto route I-95 (I stands for Interstate) and all went well. Then her highness got hungry, so we stopped at a diner in a town called Fairfield. Sherwood's diner. Owned by some Greeks, who sounded just like Australian Greeks! Is there some sort of accent packing order? If you start with Greek, then learn English, the accent stays Greek, no matter where you learn English? If you start with Tagalog then learn English, the accent sounds American, no matter where you learned English? The menu was full of wonderful things that did not involve fries. Yaay!

Here's a picture of me with the spanakopita and me having a rest on her birthday scarf while she finished her dinner.

Miriam had coffee, despite her vow not to drink the foul stuff. She figured she needed it to stay awake (and guess what, it worked... even hours later, she said, when she really did want to get to sleep) A bit of Greek salad and a wedge of spanakopita and she was getting sleepy so we toddled off 13 minutes up the road to the Fairfield Inn, which had been recommended by the waiter at the diner. Well, it was a place to sleep. And that's all I'll say about that. Snow and ice crunched underfoot as we walked from the car. The wind bit. There's a smell about snowy winter – it’s like the smell that comes out of the back end of a laser printer, only cold. Don't believe me? Well, it's true, I tell you. The air is dryer, too. It makes your nostrils crack and Miriam's nose has been bleeding since she landed. Sickening. She should get some nostrils like mine. You don't see me getting a blood nose, do you?

Fairfield Inn.

Miriam couldn't settle. The heater was noisy, the air was dry, her nose was giving her jip and the water from the tap tasted chloriney, but she just couldn't be stuffed enough to go down and buy any. So she held her breath and drank the tap water anyway. Some calls. And emails. Dead laptop battery (the cord that plugs into a US socket is in Provincetown). TV. Water. Toss. Turn. TV. More water. Look out window. TV. Toss. Turn. Sleep at 3:00 am, determined to get up and be on the road at 8:00 – just in case she needed to shovel her way into the condo. Phone rang at 6:00. "Hello?" Ye gods. "I'll call you later." straight back to sleep. She left the hotel at 9:30. Bugger.

Easy driving. Stopped at a food place called 'Friendlys' on the way. It wasn't particularly. Miriam had an omelette. She didn't even take me out of my sock. On the road again, to Hyannis and got a coat at Kmart, plus checked out mobile phone options. Decided not to get one just yet. Next week. Maybe.
Then onto Provincetown. Here's a pic of the first glimpse she got of the town, from Route 6 just past Truro.