Another day in Boston, another day of sightseeing. Eventually we made our way to the Boston Public Gardens.
I’m no princess bear but I certainly won’t turn down a swan boat ride.
Then we made our way to the Make Way for the Ducklings sculpture. Apparently my bud sat on these ducks when he was a little bud. So we recreated the moment.
The things I do to bond with my bud.
It was cool. Actually I liked it.
I was in such good spirits I even agreed to go into a museum where I made Nicholas sign me into the guestbook. After all I was a guest too.
I’ve got fur. And a toque. Plus a tunic. So I’m cool. And my bud can borrow a big coat to stay warm. Or try to, at least.
So we got in, and all was well until I sauntered up to the counter and tried to order the obvious - hot cocoa.
Turns out that’s not on the menu. They only serve cold drinks. How on earth is there an ice bar with no hot cocoa? Blasphemy. At least the girl at the counter was nice enough.
And at least I can say I’ve been to an ice bar in Boston.
Today Uncle Charlie took us to the Waterworks Museum. It’s now mostly swanky condos for the wealthy (aka the future yours truly) but they did preserve part of the old water utility building as a museum. They had some pretty cool architecture in there. I dug it.
My favourite part was where a sunbeam shone through the window and bathed me in light. That’s right, bask in the glory of the presence of me.
Since it was my first time to Boston, my bear bud naturally enlisted the aid of Uncle Charlie. I suspect it’s not because Uncle Charlie knows a lot about Boston, but rather because he also sees the sense in hot cocoa and chocolate. My bud knew we’d get along.
My bud’s Uncle Charlie is also known as the mayor Oak Square. Because, like, he runs the place. More reasons why we get along.
Anyway, Uncle Charlie took us around his hood. We sat in his square.
We admired the mural with his face in it (take note, bear bud).
We saw the brick he bought for my bear bud (where’s mine?)
Let it be known I want a brick too. It should say, Sumi Bear, Captain of the Universe. And Boss.
I’ve been told by many that Iceland is a beautiful place.
I’m sure it is, if I could have seen any of it.
I found Iceland to be really really wet, cloudy and grey. At least when I was there. And every time the cruise crew have been there, as I was told.
I tried to tell Nicholas that, really, we were fine and we could just stay in the car. I could use my imagination and just look at the maps. I also tried to tell him it was really humiliating to be seen under a pink kitten umbrella.
But he still made us get out and go to even wetter places. And he tried to say things like it was no more humiliating than walking around carrying a bear. I’m not quite sure what he meant, but I gave him a smack for good measure.
Here we are dangerously close to the wet explosion of Geysir.
And then dangerously close to the cascading sheets of wetness at Gulfoss.
And then who knows where this is, given the visibility…. I just know it was also wet.
At least I got to meet another mascot. I’m still cuter.
I cheered up a little when we were finally got back, got dry, and I was able to play with my towel buddy pets, today was a turtle.
Today, we stopped in a small town on the Faroe Islands. Actually by Faroe Islands standards it’s a pretty big town, but given that I’m a worldly bear having been to many a town in the world, I felt entitled to conclude that Torshvan, pop. 20 000 = a rather itty bitty baby town.
This is the whole town. See, it really IS rather itty bitty.
I’d read in the guidebooks that the Faroe Islands have their own kind of sheep – the kind you get when sheep inbreed amongst themselves for thousands of years (or since the Vikings anyway) without new sheep stock to add diversity. So I wanted to see some sheep to see how weird they look.
These aren’t sheep. They’re shaggy cows!
And then the clouds came in. Okay I’ve seen enough sheep. And then it rained. And I got wet. And grumpy.
Nicholas tried to bribe me and cheer me up with a Jolly.
At which point I explained that calling a drink Jolly doesn’t a jolly bear make. Hot cocoa and a warm bed on a boat does.
I had never heard of the Blarney Castle or Blarney stone, but I guess Nicholas had a Blarney stone at his school so he wanted to see it. So we went.
And I kissed the stone. We got on a tour bus at Cobn (pronounced Cove) and then we pushed past tourists and ran towards the castle to beat the line. Apparently the usual lineup to kiss the stone was something ridiculous. Lucky for us we were among the first there so it wasn’t too bad. One by one we streamed single file up the castle tower.
Up we went towards the stone, which was situated on the outside of the castle meaning you had to lie down, bend over backwards to kiss some stone on the outside.
Then it was my turn. I was getting ready to scoot down as the fellow who helped the stone kissers said to Nicholas – “Would you like me to hold your Teddy?”
It took me a second to realize he was referring to me. I’m no Teddy, mister. But whatever, you can hold me so I can kiss the stone.
And then I kissed the stone. I felt the same afterwards.
Nick and Pokin also kissed the stone. They sound about the same afterwards.
So we were docked in Portland, UK today. We heard word that there was a castle to see in the vicinity so we got on a bus to go see it. I wanted ideas for my eventual castle.
This was their idea of a castle.
They wanted £5. We got back on the bus.
My bud wasn’t impressed. Neither was I. We’d seen better in France and in video games. So we took another bus to Weymouth instead.
Here we found a tea shop. And being the civilized bear that I am, I indulged in a pot of tea with some scones and clotted cream.
It was no hot cocoa, but it was still satisfactory.
