Lobstah and Beantown

I keep telling myself that all I want is a quiet vacation - read a book or two, sit on the beach in quiet contemplation, stroll through cool quiet woods. But it appears I have a bad case of FOMO. Monday we had no agenda, so I said "Take me to Red's!" If you haven't been to Red's Eats in Wiscasset Maine, you really are missing out. They have the biggest, best lobster rolls you've ever seen!

These are pure heaven - no mayonaisse, no celery, no bed of lettuce - just lobster, with a container of melted butter to pour over it. *drool*

Wiscasset is quite a way up the coast from where we were staying, but we left early and would have been there right at the height of the lunch crowd, so we stopped at L.L. Bean's flagship store in Freeport on the way up. That meant we hit Wiscasset about 1:30, but the line was still ridiculous for a Monday. But it's always like that. We stood in the hot sun for an hour before we could order. I will give Red's credit - they pass out umbrellas to customers waiting in the sun. 

After lunch we decided to visit the ocean again, this time at the Cape Elizabeth Lighthouse. The lighthouse itself is nothing to write home about, but the rocks on the coastline there look like petrified wood, and shatter into this amazing pattern that looks like wood chips under your feet. 

I really didn't pack properly for this trip. While the forecast was for a couple of days in the 80s early on, it called for cooling off by Monday and several days with highs in the upper 60s. They lied to me. Bigly. I didn't bring any shorts, thinking that for a couple days, I would just deal with being too warm in jeans. But it has been in the upper 80s ever since we got here Friday. And yesterday just about pushed me over the edge. We walked about 7 miles around Boston in that heat. In case you're wondering why I didn't just go buy some shorts - it's late September. You don't buy summer clothes, even on clearance, in New England in late September!

Maxine had to drive to Boston Tuesday morning for an interview, so we planned to pick up Will and drive him to Boston with us, meanwhile picking up the dresser that belonged to my grandfather. However, you know what they say about the "best laid plans". We spent about half an hour futzing around in the heat trying to squeeze that dresser into the back of Greg's Subaru while still leaving enough room for suitcases and for Will. We finally gave up and took the dresser back upstairs, and resolved to come back for it Wednesday morning before we leave. After all, as Greg said, it would seem silly to leave without it just because we had to back track 60 miles when we already drove a thousand for the purpose of picking it up. Well, when you put it that way...

We started our day in Boston at the Holocaust Memorial. I have always loved that memorial - it's not a static slab of stone with names carved on it, it feels like a living, breathing representation of the sorrows and the horrors that we need never to forget. To see the individual numbers etched onto pane after pane of glass, and to realize that each number represents someone who died in the Holocaust, can be difficult to wrap your head around. It has always been a moving place to visit, but expecially so after it was recently vandalized. The broken glass has not yet been replaced. But walking through the corridor over the grates emitting steam is still a disturbing experience. And although I know I have read this plaque before, in light of recent events, Eisenhower's words speak loudly across the years:

"The things I saw beggar description. The visual evidence and the verbal testimony of starvation, cruelty and bestiality were so overpowering as to leave me a bit sick. I made the visiit deliberately, in order to be in a position to give first hand evidence of these things, if ever in the future, there develops a tendency to charge these allegations merely to propaganda."

On a lighter note, we visited the harbor,

and the Green Dragon, which although it isn't the original buildling, it's the approximate site and recreatiion of the tavern where many of the organizing events of the Revolutionary War were planned. The Boston Tea Party was organized there, and Paul Revere was sent from the Green Dragon on his "Midnight Ride".

We had tickets for the Red Sox game last night, and decided to walk to Fenway from Kendall Square. Now normally that would be no big thing. But when you're dressed for apple picking on a crisp fall day, but the sun is beating down on the pavement and the humidity is outrageous, it's a recipe for extreme dehydration. But by the time we reached the river, the sun had set and we were rewarded with this view:

And then this one:

Today we leave for Webster, New York to visit Greg's brother and the Corning Museum of Glass. I wish I could sleep in the car!

Of Beasties and Beaches

There aren't many things that start the day off better than a rooster crowing. Unless it's at 5:30 am. Or so I'm told - I slept through it. Greg, however, did not, so he thought it might be nice to go watch the sun rise from the east windows in the refurbished barn we're lodging in. Soon the roosters calmed down and Greg thought he'd go back to bed....but discovered he had locked himself out of our room! He had to wait until I got up around 8 to get back in.

While we waited for Will and Maxine to bring us breakfast and coffee, we chatted with the owners and got a quick tour and introduction to the animals.

One of the chicken gangs - there are two, and they apparently don't share well.

I went to the pasture to take some photos of the farm, and after taking one of the field lined with apple trees that were LOADED -

- I soon heard something fairly large running up behind me. My first thought was that Blossom the resident sheep was charging me to chase me out of her pasture. But turns out she's just an attention whore. She stood there waiting for me to pet her, and then followed me around when I quit.

First order of the day was to go to the ocean. I have missed Rye Beach. It's not your typical lie-in-the-sun kind of beach - it's very rocky and if there is any surf at all you get some awesome reminders of the power of the ocean. We happened to be there the day after Hurricane Jose passed the area. 

 

Although I could pass the entire day watching the tide come in and out, the young 'uns were antsy, so we headed off to Fuller Gardens, which was established as a private garden at a seaside estate about a mile from where we had stopped to watch the surf. An enormous formal rose garden, espaliered apple trees, a Japanese garden - it was all gorgeous.

Best photo from the day, though, was Will and Maxine at the gate with the ocean in the background :)

A trip to a local brewery (being the proper way to entertain folks from Asheville), dinner at Rosa's in Portsmouth, and we were wiped out. 

Today we head out to Wisscasset to get the world's best lobster roll, then cruise down the Maine coast back to Portland, where we will play it by ear. Tuesday we visit Boston.

It was worth it

I don't know how it's possible for me to forget how freakin' much I hate car travel. There is just nothing pleasant about it - between the ache of muscles that haven't moved in hours, the monotonous view of the ass end of a truck, and the inevitable traffic jam, I was in full-on crank mode by the time we got to Maine. (Although, being stopped on I-495 for an hour gave me time to contemplate the karmic possibilities of a cracked windshield on Greg's new car.)

The visit to the Mark Twain house was just as wonderful as I had hoped. The home's Victorian gaudiness was not the fascinating part, but the opportunity to feel as if you have actually stepped into the life of one of the most amazing wits of this country. The historical caretakers have done a fantastic job piecing back together the life and times of Twain's happiest years. Having worked with The Riley home (ask me sometime about the time Riley toured with Twain) I know how difficult it can be to keep historical accuracy separated from the myths.

Each balcony of the home has a different style of railing - my favorite was the one that reminded me of a steamboat captain's wheel -

We couldn't, of course, take pictures from the inside, but if I could have, you would have seen the reverse of this view - from the library through the conservatory and into the back yard. To love books as I do, and plants as I do.....there is no heaven but a place like that!

We visited the Mark Twain gift shop, y'know, like ya do, and walked out with 3 books (surprise!) and a postcard. 

Then on to Maine where we settled into our lodgings (so charming! - pics in the next post) and then to dinner with Will and Max.

Those are chupacabra margaritas - muddled cilantro and hot peppers topped with traditional margarita - wow!

Weasels, sheep and baseball - the perfect fall getaway!

Well moss might not grow on a rolling stone, but mildew does. After a ridiculously rainy summer, in which everything, including a cherry tomato plant, seemed covered in mildew, I am off again in search of drier pastures. Literally.

Greg and I are off to New England, where we have reserved a charming AirBnB on a small farm in North Berwick, Maine. Chickens, sheep, the whole shebang. That's not far from where our son and daughter-in-law live, so I guess maybe we'll see them too, but I'm all about the sheep! lol

No really, we are going to visit the kids and it's been a terribly long time since we've been back to NE to visit. I hate to admit it, but I do miss it.

Sometimes.

Briefly.

First stop, though, will be the Mark Twain house in Hartford, CT. The house that he built for his wife and daughters that witnessed both great success and sadness in his life is a real draw for me. I love his writing style - he is so wry and easily amused by the folly of humanity - how can you not love that? And when someone sporting a weasel on his face can poke fun at others? Comedy gold!

Then several days in Maine/NH, Boston on Tuesday (go SOX!),  and off to upstate NY to visit Greg's older brother. A stop at the Corning Museum of Glass to view the Tiffany mosaic exhibit there (well, duh!) and then home.

Some of you dear readers may bave subscribed because you wanted to follow Gloma's European Escapades in June, and if you unsubscribe I promise not to be offended, but you are welcome to come along and laugh at the ijits on this trip as well. I promise many opportunities!

Never buy a cheap suitcase.

I arrived home on Thursday night, but it has taken this long for me to catch my breath and gather my wits enough to put this journey to bed. In a sense, I hate to write this last post because it makes the trip feel like it is truly in the past.

I left you with a peek at the old city of Dubrovnik. On Tuesday, we intended to walk the city walls, which as I understand it, is obligatory. The weather was clear and hot and we set off without really knowing what we were doing. We didn't research where you were supposed to access the walls, so we wandered aimlessly for about an hour - up stairs, down blind alleys, down stairs, around corners....you get the picture. However, if we hadn't been so goofy, we would never have found the little cafe that hangs off the cliff face directly below the city walls.

The view from under the canopy

Alex and I climbed down some very steep stone steps where you could get to the water. Later in the day, people were swimming, sunbathing and diving from the rocks.

The view from down those steps

After having hauled Mom up and down and all around in the hot sun for about an hour, we left her by a fountain in the shade to people-watch while Alex and I went in search of the entrance to the city walls. It was a more exhausting trek than I had anticipated, in part because of the sun. By the time we were 3/4 of the way around, I was feeling scorched, so we missed the last leg of it. But what we saw was gorgeous.

Looking back at the entrance by the Pile Gate at the gondola that takes you up the mountain.

Thank goodness they had ice cream stands in the shade in a couple of spots. We never told Mom she missed out, but I guess now she knows. Sorry not sorry.

Looking down at the cafe we visited earlier from the city walls. You can see the sunbathers and divers from here.

We had a light lunch of prosciutto and cheese, and I ventured to try the Croatian beer I had been seeing advertised. It was alright, but not up to Asheville standards. I am now officially a beer snob.

That evening we had a lovely seafood dinner right at the base of the grand staircase, then strolled the piazzas a bit. The swallows are ubiquitous at all times, but in the evening they are a special treat to watch and listen to.

A drink in a courtyard where a band was playing some fantastic gypsy jazz, and then off to bed - flying back to London the next morning.

The weather had been quite warm, but never unbearable on our trip, until we got back to London. The day we arrived back it was 91 degrees. Do you know what London smells like when it's 91? Let's just hope you never find out. We made the best of it with a drink in Clapham Commons, and then BBQ with my niece at Bodean's, because BODEAN'S! Yep, it's actually as good as what you get here in North Carolina.

I'm a fairly hardy little troll, and pride myself on putting up with a lot of aggravation before I lose my shit, but my suitcase pushed me right over the edge. I had been having trouble with the wheels for the entire trip - the rubber bits around the wheels kept coming off and jamming up the works. By the time we were ready to leave our Airbnb in Dubrovnik, one of the wheels had completely broken. My only option was to drag it through the city streets until we could pick up the Uber outside the city gates (which took us across town to where we'd had to leave the rental car). I then had to drag it a long way from the rental car drop off to the airport terminal in Dubrovnik. And through the terminal in London (twice) and again at Charlotte. By the time I got home, two of the four wheels were completely gone.

Guess I won't be running away from home anytime soon.

Awe Struck

Saturday was a beach day, as we all needed a little rest. The best part of the beach day was getting a drink at a beach bar and watching Grandma boogie to the rap music! Priceless :)

Our plans for visiting Hvar were foiled by the weather. We had scheduled ourselves a little too tightly this trip, and Sunday was the day we had alloted. Unfortunately, there was a wind advisory and none of the tour boats were sailing that day. We even checked with several, just in case the first one simply didn't like the looks of us. Instead, Alex and I saw the cathedral, bell tower and baptistery in Diocletian's Palace, climbing all the way to the top of the bell tower - what a view! Google doesn't think you need to see the photos, though, since I can't seem to upload them. However, we then climbed the hill to Marjan Park and this was our reward:

Stairs. Millions of stairs on Sunday. But although we were denied a boat trip to the isalnds, we made up for it by commandeering a pirate ship Monday morning.

The owner of the boat in the front, who built it with his own two hands over a period of 10 years, working on it in his backyard in the evenings after work. It was modeled after Columbus' Santa Maria and is an exquisite piece of workmanship.

Grandma hamming it up with the crew (yes that's my finger in the pic. Shut up.)

Downtown Split - the view from the other side of the peninsula.

Returning to Diocletian's Palace by water.

After Diocletian's Palace it just couldn't get any better. But it did. I am absolutely gobsmacked over Dubrovnik!

A three hour drive from Split, in which we drove through a small section of Bosnia and Herzegovinia (bleh), and down to where the mountains meet the sea.

The Pile Gate, our entrance to the old city.

The view from the window of our apartment (I was leaning out the window, that's why it's crooked. This is the staircase that was in Game of Thrones - Alex reenacted a scene from the show:

Looking back at the mountains from the cafe yesterday evening.

I'll post more pics from Dubrovnik when I get home. Tomorrow we return to London for a day, then home on Thursday.