Sleepy Hollow to Boston

We spent roughly 3 hours in Sleepy Hollow,
looking for tourist sites which apparently do
not exist. Nevertheless, we saw the Old Dutch
Church from which, legend has it, the Headless
Horseman begins his nightly ride. We didn't get
to meet him, but we did visit Washington Irving's
headstone and wandered round the extensive and,
oddly, beautiful graveyard.

Sleepy Hollow is a cute little town; if a too sleepy.
It also seemed to be weirdly populated by Mexicans.
We soaked up the last of the days sunshine before
driving out of New York state, through Rhode Island
and on into Connecticut.

We stayed at an RV camp called Strawberry Park last
night. We needed showers and the RV's battery needed
a recharge, so we thought the $30 nights fee was worth it.
Arriving long after sunset, we saw no sign of life as we
drove around the huge complex; not even another RVer.
Strange, for what was supposedly one of America's top
RV parks.

It was a total ghost town, save for Simply Red's Mick
Hucknall, who Will bizzarrely tried to convince me he'd
just met in the toilets. April fools day for mentalists.

This morning came without anyone approaching us for
any money. Well, if they weren't going to ask, we weren't
going to give.

We risked it by using the showers and the RV dump, and
I half expected to be chased down the road as we drove
away. That $30 is much better off in our pockets. Or
more specifically in our petrol tank, with the rest of
our money.

We made our escape, crossing the border into
Massachusetts without being caught by the camping police.

And so to Boston. We found somewhere to park in
Charlestown, on the 'good end' of a dodgy looking road,
and caught a bus into town. Hopping off next to a cobbled
square decorated with fairy lights, we wandered round
an indoor market, resisting the urge to buy tiny Boston
Red Sox clothes for my niece or nephew to be.

Finding a bar, we ordered clam chowder and regressed
back to the good old days, laughing and joking like we
were back on Koh Samui without a care in the world.
Will and I decided to have a drink or two, which turned
into eight and five, respectively.

$1.50 beers is something Will apparently cannot resist.

Karaoke night began, and we sipped, sniggered and
cheered our way through. Missing the last bus home,
we took a taxi back, ignoring the driver as he warned
us that we were parked in a bad area. We assured him
we'd be fine, we had pepper spray after all!

'Good... in a salad', he retorted.