Cinammon and leaves

Phew, that was quite a day. I didn't manage to get quite as much done as I wanted, but pretty good nontheless.

The first challenge (and a significant one) was finding a car. "No need to book, it'll be fine", I thought, like a nonce. Turned out that every single rental car in central Boston was booked out for the weekend, and I ended up having to go out to the bloody airport to find one. Even then, it was on the 3rd go that I actually found one. The whole thing was made rather more annoying by the fact that I did my stupid thing of wandering around assuming I'll find something rather than being organised about it. First thing, I looked up the 4 closest rental places on Google, and then walked around each of them, with no result. The thinking was that (it being Sunday) I would be best off getting out there knocking on doors early, but it would have been SO much easier to wait an hour or so and phone round. Doofus.

So, I finally got me a car (and with one of those whizzy satellite navigation things, natch) and headed off to Ikea about an hour outside Boston. My mood soon improved with the beautiful drive. For a start, it was pretty exhilarating just to be driving (it's been a few years) and in another country as well (it was a first time for driving on the right, as well). It was an utterly gorgeous day as well, and my first glimpse of what they call "The Colour" (or "The Color", I suppose...). One hears all kinds of things about the New England fall, but based on today it's incredible. It's not just the colours of teh Massachussetts countryside - vibrant reds, browns, even purples and every shade of green available. There's something especially different about the light though. Granted, today was an absolutely clear day, but everything seemed to be incredibly sharp - it felt like I could see individual leaves as I was flying past the foliage on the freeway. It's just a shame they don't have Guy Fawkes' night, or their autumn would be perfect.

Anyway, back down to earth, and on to Ikea. The Americans don't seem to have taken flat-packed Swedish furniture to their bosoms quite as much as the British have - the store was tucked away with no signposting and wasn't particularly busy given that it's a Sunday of a bank holiday weekend (tomorrow is Columbus Day). In England, you would have taken along some sort or sword to be sure of fighting your way through the crowds. The place had also been Americanised to some extent - the cafe area had the same overwhelming stench of cinammon that airports tend to. Before I came here, my only significant exposure to the stuff was when my Mum put it in an apple pie (which was always a brilliant move - her apple pies were to die for), but Americans go pretty overboard with the stuff.

Anyway, I came away from Ikea with a full car, and my apartment is now fitted out with kitchen stuff, a matress, a bedside table and one of those bendy Ikea chairs. Table, sofa etc will be delivered in due course...