My wife and I spent several days around the Fourth of July this year in and around Boston, visiting her sister and her sister's boyfriend, who live in Point of Pines, in Revere Beach (a short jog north of Boston). Our visit was far too short. It was the closest we have come to a true vacation in quite some time. I'll describe a few of our interesting experiences.
On July 2, the four of us drove north, with the objective of going to a special spot in Maine to a lobster pound for a late lunch/early dinner. We drove first to Salisbury Beach, the northernmost town in Massachusetts. It is a seaside town with a popular seaside amusement area called Joe's Playland, an old-style amusement arcade that offers games, food stands, beachcombing, etc. Lots of specialty shops dot the area.
We decided to wander along the beachfront arcade, so we parked a block or two from the beach and wandered aimlessly, taking in the scenes, very east-coast.
As we walked along the arcade area, we saw a small group of kids at an arcade game, a punching bag attached to something that measured the "punch" the kids were throwing at it. The kids' punching on the bag made lots of racket every time they punched it hard, whistles went off, bells clanged, and noises of other sorts screamed from the punching bag, to the delight of the kids who obviously took the noise as evidence of their superior power and boxing prowess.
There were lots of dogs on the beach and walkway, a pretty common thing in New England. That's not so common in Texas, where taking a dog for a walk in the summertime can condemn the animal to heat stroke and a painful death.
At one place along the beach, a place that was boarded up and closed, the former tenant had once used an unusual approach to advertising: "Warm beer, bad service, etc." read a badly weathered sign hanging from a window. Perhaps the sign was truth in advertising.
We wandered north through Seabrook, New Hampshire and on to Hampton Beach, a pretty place. We did not spend much time there, but it's a place we would like to visit again, when we have more time to stop and putter. If I'm not mistaken, Hampton Beach is where we stopped for a look at some antiques in a large antique store on the main street.
Our next stop was Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where we visited an outdoor museum called Strawberry Banke, a collection of old restored buildings from the 1600s through 1800s. The harbor in Portsmouth held a powerful memory for our hosts; he accompanied the mother of a friend who had died to the harbor, where she dispersed his ashes on the water.
The main objective of the drive into Maine was to visit the lobster pound, which we had heard about and which sounded extremely appealing to us; the idea of fresh lobster, served like the locals like to eat them, was very attractive. We ate at Lobster in the Rough (US Route 1, York ME 03900) . Here, you order your whole lobster at a window open to the outdoor area. Inside the building behind the window is, presumably, where the lobsters are prepared, along with all the accompaniments. A short distance from the window where orders are placed is a covered bar (for liquor). I ordered the lobster bake, which included a one pound lobster, several clams, an ear of corn, a little plastic cup of butter, and a little plastic cup of yellowish, warm water for washing sand, etc. from the clams. When you hear your order number called, you go back to the window where you placed the order and pick it up; you also have to pick up a lobster cracker (looked like a nut cracker to me), along with very flimsy red plastic fork to pull out lobster meat and other miscellaneous plastic utensils such as spoons, and napkins. No bibs here. The lobster cracker required a $1 deposit, which was returned to me on giving the cracker back. It was an interesting experience, plus the food was truly excellent. I envisioned eating at a place right on the water, but Lobster in the Rough proved to be a wonderful experience.
After stuffing ourselves on lobster, we drove into York, Maine, which is a beautiful place and is home to the Nubble Lighthouse, a former lighthouse converted into a restaurant. Under different circumstances (i.e., not having eaten one pound of lobster within the hour) we might have had dinner there, but we opted, in stead, to try some ice cream that was lauded as among the best in New England, according to articles in Boston magazines. We went to Brown's Old Fashion(ed) Ice Cream on Nubble Road in York. My wife got a 3-scoop sampler; I got a Maine Tracks (lots of chocolate, peanut butter, etc.--huge scoop on a waffle cone). The place was absolutely mobbed with people and the parking lot, next to it, was very hard to maneuaver, due to the very high volume of traffic. It was a sight to see so many lines of people waiting to buy ice cream that cost $3.25 for a small scoop (which was enormous). Apparently, ice cream is a huge deal in Maine and, indeed, throughout New England. There seemed to be dozens of types of ice creams and an equal number of ways to have it served. Signs, on plain typing paper, on the windows and walls outside the place proclaimed that rumors that Brown's had been sold were wrong, wrong, wrong! The signs said Brown's has NOT been sold and is looking forward to continuing to serve.
The ice cream orgy was the end of our July 2 road trip...from there, we took the Interstate back to Boston. But our trip was not over...we had yet to participate in the spectacular fireworks extravaganza on July 3 and July 4. More on that in an upcoming post.
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