To be sure there were also nice parks, the understated grandeur of Harvard, a fantastic hostel and a surprising wealth of very good street entertainers. Nevertheless it was the taste of convenience cooking from home that left Kizzy struggling through nostalgia to choose just one main course from the menu.
Before finding our culinary postcard, we had spent 16 hours on the bus from Toronto to Buffalo to New York to Boston. After many many hours on buses the prospect of another 16, and our final overnight bus was nothing to concern us. Americans we had spoken to previously had warned us against Greyhound, "if you actually have to get where you want to go". When we arrived at the Toronto bus terminal we found out why. Greyhound have patented their very own "what the hell?!?" double take for the use of passengers arriving 20 minutes before departure to find a line of 60 people already waiting for a 50-seat bus. "But I'm going to New York at 8pm. Where's that line?" This is it, and you may be mistaken. Thankfully, we arrived 3 minutes and 5 people before cut-off point.
