Anyone who knows me knows that I have severe wanderlust. I will, if possible (and it is most likely possible even if I am broke, busy, or stressed out) take off at a moment's notice just to be somewhere new or different.
Last week, I receive a quick message via Facebook asking if I want to go to Cape Cod. Um, do you even have to ask I think, quickly typing “YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LETS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Driving with Chrissa later that day I chuckle, saying, “this should be an interesting trip. Mia, Amanda, and I all tend to just wing it when we do things. Elizabeth was the one who always planned things and made sure we paid our bills on time. We’re all just kind of chaotic.”
Day 1 (July 16 2010): No we don’t Have Smart Phones
On Friday, I await the phone call from Mia and Amanda saying that they are almost in Hartford…
11:31 a.m. I receive a text from Amanda saying that they’re finishing up work and grant applications and will be heading out of Ithaca in one hour.
5:34 p.m. Mia calls and says they’ll arrive in about half an hour.
6:09 p.m. Mia calls, informing me that they’re caught in traffic about a mile away.
6:20 p.m. Mia calls and lo and behold they have arrived.
I grab my snack bag (if there’s one thing my family has taught me it’s to never go anywhere without food… you never know when you’ll get caught somewhere or when you’ll be hungry), my belongings packed neatly into a Stop & Shop muted-neon-green grocery bag, my backpack, a pillow, and of course my Mary Poppins purse (goodness knows what I can find in that thing- I found a container 0f dental floss once).
Stepping outside, I can’t see a car with a Texas license plate anywhere. I walk further out, glance from side to side and finally hear Mia calling my name. Turning towards the voice, I see her walking towards me from Sam’s Gas Station. “You Look So Happy!” she says smiling. What, do I not usually look happy? Thinking about it, I guess I haven’t looked too happy lately being stuck in a city and all. Argh. But, honestly I’m so excited to be leaving Hartford, seeing people I love, and to go swimming that apparently my happiness can’t contain itself. Instead, it has giddily reached my face and I am grinning and bobbing up and down with my bouncy-walk, stoked to head eastward.
Once we’re all in the car and taking the I-84 towards I-90, the three of us catch up on the escapades of life that have unfolded since Cornell’s graduation. We discuss people who study lipids and other folks we’ve met, the World Cup, family, and the general plan for the weekend.
Three hours later, we arrive in Sommerville, MA and can’t exactly figure out what street we’re on… and no, we don’t have i-phones or smart phones or a GPS so we’ve got to rely on good old fashioned Google directions and stopping to ask the way. Pulling up to a red light, we roll down the window and shout out to a young man and woman “Do you know where such-and-such a street is?” No. Of course they don’t. It turns out the guy is wearing a shirt that has “College of New Jersey” or something similar written on it and the girl is giving us a dirty look. Actually, I don’t notice the dirty look, I’m busy watching the droplets of rain fall and being generally amused that we didn’t notice right away that the guy was from Jersey. After turning continually right, we finally arrive on the street we’re looking for, assuming that the street we started on simply keeps changing names. Before long, we’re in front of a house with four people sitting on the balcony staring down at us and we’re peering back at them from our rolled-down windows wondering if we really are in the right spot. We are, so we pile out of the van and visit with these people, all of whom I have never met before but who are gathering together after meeting ten years prior in the Czech Republic.
After making introductions and Mia’s friend Rose comes over, we venture along the bike path to Davis Square and grab dinner at a diner. Mia and Amanda tell their epic story of getting lost in the back roads of upstate New York with poor phone reception, little gas, and ending up three hours west of Ithaca. I’ve heard the story before, but it was only the abridged version, the full version can easily be made into a horror movie. Later, we walk over to a party about 20 blocks away to meet up with Emanuelle, Erica, and Tiffany. It takes us forever (well, not really, we’re all used to walking all the time so it’s not too bad) and we don’t know if we’re going in the right direction (I sense a theme). We end up stopping at a Chinese Restaurant that’s still open at 11 p.m., and the kind man inside draws us a couple of maps to destination Perry St.
As soon as we get there, the three 30-something girls walk out of the door and tell us to get into the car, the party’s boring, so we do and end up driving the wrong way down one-way streets, slamming to stops, and I’m worrying about my general safety in this car. The last time I felt this terrified was riding on a bus in Santo Domingo in the DR and worrying that my head would flop out the window as I was sleeping and that I would be decapitated by one of the crazy drivers… this is exactly what I was thinking as we drove back to the house.
Finally, we arrive, everyone in tact and all six of us pile out of the car, take a bathroom break and head back to Davis Square to go bar hopping. We end up at a place called Joshua Tree, an excellent place for people watching, but a horrible place for socializing. The music is blaring, and almost all the guys have crew cuts, true “man’s men” if you will. A guy walks over to Tiffany.
“Does she know him?” Mia whispers to me.
“I don’t think so… but maybe.” I reply.
She doesn’t.
Amanda and Mia at Joshua Tree
Around 1 a.m., we decide to move on to another bar… this one is just as bad, except for here we are almost the only girls in the place, and all the men standing outside stare at us and comment as we walk in and show our IDs. We don’t even stay for drinks. Instead, we head back to the homestead and jump into bed. Rather, I should say Mia, Amanda, and I being the old ladies that we are go to bed and gently push the cat Olaf out the door while the 30-somethings chat outside for the next hour or so.
Day 2 (July 17 2010): Wanda, You Can’t Just Bury the Cat…
The sun slowly creeps into the window. I’ve always thought that was the best way to wake up, with the sun overheating you so you have to get out of bed. Amanda, however, just moves with the sun and I notice her at the foot of the bed, her knees and shins hanging into the air. Mia is still half asleep. I go downstairs and begin cutting up my peaches and making a fruit salad while Tiffany and Erica prepare the quiche. I love quiche…. and fruit salad. I’m telling you, there’s a reason I carry snacks with me, you never know when you’re going to need to whip up a fruit salad with peaches and blueberries. Gradually the others come downstairs, chitchat, and settle in.
At this point, Mia and I are sitting at the kitchen table when I see Amanda peek out of the bathroom door and say, “Camila, can you come here?” I walk over to the bathroom and giggle. One of the doors to the shower has come off its hinges and is leaning against the cabinets. “Can you help me put it back on?” So, I climb into the shower, which has a few inches of water in it, and thankfully we’re able to slide the door back on.
After eating the delicious quiche and fruit salad, we all head to Davis Square for this Art Festival they’re having.
Plastic bottle fish at ArtBeat
The best part the festival is walking by a free photo booth (gotta love the free shiz) and Mia wanting to partake in the shenanigans. I willingly decide that this is a great idea and we drag Amanda into the “fun”. After waiting for the trio in the mermaid outfit, sailor hat, and hula skirt to leave, we jump in and before I know it we’re all holding up a cut out of a submarine and I have on the sailor hat and Mia has the pirate bandana and eye patch. Then the photographer has the brilliant idea to turn around the stool we’re sitting on and bring over a pair of floaties and some goggles for Amanda. He makes her puff out her cheeks, plug her nose, and pretend to be swimming above the submarine. BAHAHAHAHAHA! Unfortunately I don’t have the pictures, but it is hysterical to say the least. Even the photographer is cracking up.
Once the photos are taken, the three of us head to the subway and journey south to meet up with Martha (another college friend). She ends up calling and saying the farmer’s market she is working at is closing down and tells us to hop off the sub in Jamaica Plain… so we do. Getting off the subway after chaotically discussing whether we should make our way to Martha, stay in JP, or head back to Boston we make our way up to the light and start walking to the town center. All of a sudden we hear
“Wanda…”
I look over, and there’s this guy with a blondish ponytail walking our way. Amanda and I both think he’s talking to us.
“Wanda, you can’t just bury the cat” He exclaims. “You gotta put it in a bag or something.”
We turn our heads and there’s a group of three people including an older women with a gigantic shovel in her hands and a dead cat at her feet.
I think at this point I have a deer-in-headlights look and I put an extra m.p.h. in my step.
Mural in Jamaica Plain
For the next few hours, the three of us wander around the town under the blaring afternoon sun and eventually end up for the second time that day at J.P. Licks where we relax in the air conditioning and make the decision to head back to Boston and just meet Martha there.
In Boston, we meet up again with Rose after bumbling through the park. I swear, we’re in a city and we just have to head to wherever there is “nature”. This is how I was in Toronto too. She takes us on a tour of Beacon Hill where we see mansions, John Kerry’s House, Louisa May Alcott’s childhood home, and Underground Railroad sites. Then we wait by the harbor near Quincy Market for Martha.
Next, we head to The House of Blues where Martha’s boyfriend is playing. He’s the bassist of the band Moniker. They’re pretty good, and I’m definitely enjoying the whimsical art on the walls: grinning crocodiles, dogs with wings, dachshund-looking cheetahs… During the last song, this guy with a Celtics shirt starts busting out some dance moves throughout the entire song before coming over to us and asking why we weren’t up there dancing, especially Martha since she knows someone in the band. Then the next band comes on. They have a large female following and they sound… well, I guess I should just say that I would rather not be listening to them.
Again, another decision has to be made. Should we meet up with Erica, Tiffany, and Emanuelle or go to the Moniker after party? It takes another hour to make a decision and the decision keeps going back and forth, as do we. We walk to the subway, and then back to The House of Blues, which I should mention is right across from the Red Sox Stadium. A game has just let out, so the streets are flooded with people. I have to sit down. I need a decision. I’m tired as hell and thinking about that time I fell asleep at a frat party because I had been traveling all day. Finally Amanda and Mia consent to me going back to Somerville alone (I really thought I was going to have to beg for awhile there) which I want to do because 1) I don’t want to take a taxi back home since I’m basically broke 2) I want them to go out and have fun and 3) If I go, I can almost guarantee I will fall asleep on them.
They hand over the keys and 45 minutes, 2 subways, and a 10-minute walk later, I’m back at Tiffany’s house. I guess Tiffany has the same idea, because she’s already there, exhausted, and she commences to tell me how Emanuelle, Erica and her were kicked out of Alibi because they drank sparkling water at a reserved table and the server got pissed off at them. After saying goodnight, taking a nice shower, and reading a couple pages of Good Omens I fall asleep.
Day 3 (July 18 2010): His Name’s Alex Too, but I Call Him Fluffy
I haven’t slept in this long in months. I kid you not, usually I don’t sleep past 9:00 in the morning and lately I’ve been popping awake at 7:00. Really, I don’t understand, I feel like such an old lady going to bed at 11 and waking up at 7. This rarely happened in college, and ever since graduating, my sleep schedule has reverted to Camila-age-8 patterns. I get up and call Kristin since she’s been trying to get a hold of me for the past few days.
Around noon, Emanuelle leaves and all of us head to a Brazilian BBQ half way between Boston and Cape Cod. We get there, no problem sans smart phone. It’s on the lake and we’re hoping to go swimming, but after parking on the street and seeing that the water is packed and everyone’s standing in it (meaning the marked off area is not swimmable unless you’re a toddler) we vouch to wait until we get to Cape Cod to swim. Erica and Tiffany are lost for a while but Amanda is able to help them get to lot 5 and once everyone is there we grab some food and eat. The food is delicious, I haven’t had steak for some time, and it hits the spot. As much as I love vegetables, I don’t think I can ever be a vegetarian because 1) sometimes I just crave meat and 2) my family owns a ranch and I’d probably be disowned if I didn’t eat steer.
We finish our food, Erica gives us the number of some AmeriCorps members she knows who we might be able to stay with, and we take off towards The Cape. Since we don’t have technological devices to help us with directions (and yes, this has been a sore spot for all of us since several people have noted that we don’t have such things) we stop at a visitor’s center and pick up some maps. I give the AmeriCorps member, Alex, a call and he says he’ll ask his housemates if it’s cool with them if we sleep over and give me a call back. He does a few minutes later but I’m in the bathroom and don’t pick up. I only do that if Anna calls. I call him back and he says we can definitely stay. Then he hands the phone over to his friend Joe and I tell him that we’re planning on heading up to Provincetown first. He informs me that it’s an hour-and-a-half away, that we’ll have to leave at 8:15 the next morning, that he doesn’t want us to roll in at 2 a.m., and to let him know when we leave P-town because he believes that “communication is key”. Funny kid. I did mention that Amanda, Mia, and I tend to wing it, but the point is, it works out. We have a place to stay for the night and this is a huge relief.
Eventually we give up on going to Provincetown. Instead we end up on the 28 going east through all the little Cape Cod towns and end up near a puny lighthouse in Chatham. It’s too late to go swimming but we get out of the car and take a walk along the beautiful beach. The water is absolutely gorgeous. It’s clear, the beach isn’t ridiculously crowded, and frankly, it beats the Jersey Shore.
Amanda on the shore
Amanda, Mia, and I on the Chatham shore
Later we meet up with Erica at Original Seafood restaurant in Dennisport. Amanda and I share the calamari plate and some broiled haddock. It’s decent, although I’ve gotta admit the onion rings are quite tasty. After eating, we all drive to Trader Joes to pick up some snacks and a raspberry tart for the AmeriCorps folks. Erica uses her GPS to lead us to the house, plus, she’s never been there and she wants to see what it’s like.
We get into Hyannis and pull up in front of a cabin. Several guys come out to greet us and before long we’re all sitting on the porch talking about who does what at HAC and the guys are giving us directions and recommendations for places to go swimming on the Cape. Mike tells us to first stop at the Salt Pond Visitor’s Center to get a better map. Alex 1 (the one who I’ve been in contact with and who goes by Alex) tells us to pull off on this road in Eastham to go to “the best pond on The Cape,” he also tells us that we have to look for Snail Road when we get into Provincetown because there’s an awesome place to hike through some sand dunes before ending up at a spectacular beach. “My parents loved it when I took them there” he tells us. Mike suggests that we go to the Hostel in Truro and use their parking lot, pretend we’re looking around (since they don’t like people to use their parking lot as an ocean parking lot), and go to that beach. Then shirtless Joe comes out and he and Alex 1 argue over how to get back on to the highway in the morning. So, we’ve got our day planned, and we’re left with Alex 1 and Alex 2 (who Alex 1 apparently calls Fluffy). They’re great guys, really helpful and I’m really grateful that they’re letting us stay in their living room for the night. They enthusiastically show us the argyle Snuggie that Alex 1 gave Alex 2 for their Christmas exchange and tell us we can use it if we want to. They head upstairs, we pull out the fold-out-couch which Amanda and Mia sleep on and I take the loveseat. Good thing I’m short and used to sleeping on a multitude of floors, coaches, and futons. I guess I can credit that to being nomadic.
In the middle of the night I’m almost positive that I hear Amanda and Mia giggling about something and I tell myself to ask them about it in the morning.
Day 4 (July 19 2010): You Want Some Taffy? You Really Want Some Taffy?
The three of us wake up early with the AmeriCorps members, pack up our belongings, say our goodbyes and venture out for a day of swimming, driving, eating, and returning home. We leave the cabin and use Joe’s directions to get back onto the highway. Mia and Amanda are in dire need of coffee and as we drive up to the Hess Gas Station/Dunkin’ Donuts, we see two vehicles packed with our AmeriCorps hosts. Joe peers out the window of a van.
“You made it!” he yells before settling back into his grin.
Looks like they also were in need of caffeine… or they were just seeing if their directions would get us to the station.
Then we’re on the road. We stop at the Salt Pond Visitors Center and Mia hops out of the car to grab a map for me, since I’m the navigator for the day. One point for Mike.
Stop #2 takes us to the pond. Of course, we pass the street we’re supposed to turn on so we have to backtrack and then turn onto this dirt road this has “No Trespassing” after “Do Not Enter” after “Private Property” after “No Trespassing” sign.
“I was kidding when I asked if there were “No Trespassing” signs. I thought he was joking when he said there were,” says Amanda.
After passing several of these signs, we’re on a bumpy road, covered in grass, looking for the square parking lot near a shack that Alex 1 told us about. We’re driving right alongside the pond, but to no avail. There’s no way we’re parking in someone’s yard, so we continue on our way to Stop #3. Alex 1 only gets ½ a point.
Upon reaching Truro, we quickly see the turnoff to the hostel. Parking in the hostel lot, we quickly grab our things and head in the direction of water. It takes a little bit of tromping down a road that has a “Private” sign and turning around, hiking up a beautiful grassy hill and realizing that “No Beach Access” really means “No Beach Access” (we end up on a steep slope where we can look down and see, but of course not reach, the ocean), and finally returning to the main road and finding a pseudo-hidden path, before we get to the beach. One more point for Mike for getting us to a beautiful beach spot that we don’t have to pay for and didn’t have too much trouble finding.
Laying out our sarongs and towel, we quickly peel down to our swimsuits and jump into the waves. It’s freezing, and I can’t breathe. It’s almost like Colorado snowmelt water. I get used to it and jump up with the waves. I’m so freakin’ ecstatic to be emerged in water. All of a sudden there’s a little black and yellow-green fish swimming around my torso. Round-and-round it swims.
“Ah, there’s a fish on me!” I yelp. More out of excitement and surprise then anything. I try to catch it. I’ve always wanted to catch a fish with my bare hands.
We all get out of the water to dry off in the warm sun.
There’s a man moving along the shore with his fishing pole. It’s bending towards the water and a large group is following him and a woman is clicking her camera away. Soon enough, he pulls a giant fish out of the water and he stands there cradling it in his arms, posing for the photos.
By now, I’ve been out of the water for awhile, there’s an obnoxious fly buzzing around me, pricking my skin, so I decide to plunge back into the sea. It’s so refreshing. Mia comes and gets me, it’s noontime and we still have to make it to Provincetown. The two of us walk along the shore to dry off and there’s a whole school of 3-inch silver fish dead, their mouths gaping open. I’ve never seen anything like it. Are they suicidal fish? Did they just all get washed up on shore? Have they been poisoned?
Next we attempt to find Snail Road. Alex 1 claims that there’s a great place to go swimming on the opposite side of the street from Snail Road. You can cross over some dunes and arrive at a gorgeous swimming location. We see nothing, so we continue on to Provincetown.
Provincetown is pretty sweet. It’s a colorful, touristy locale brimming with tourists, souvenir shops, and a lot of Portuguese flags. Strolling down the streets, it begins raining, so we step inside The Purple Feather, a store that sales fudge and gelato, where Mia calls her mom to get the weather report and Amanda and I glance over to a shelf that has chocolate breasts, vaginas, and penises.
Amanda and her newly found chocolate breasts
It’s going to be pouring off-and-on for another few hours so we decide to find a place to eat and we end up at the Post Office Café. It’s a vibrant cabaret café, where we get a diva-of-a-waiter who sets down our fisherman’s platter saying “this shouldn’t be eaten by just one person you know” before sauntering off and taking a shot behind the bar. Fried shrimp, fried oysters, fried fish, fried clams (which I’ve decided taste kind of funky…just as a general clam comment). It’s pretty tasty and satiates my need for something salty.
Then, we go on a special quest for Amanda to find salt-water taffy. I noticed a little place earlier in the day when we left the parking lot, so I mention that perhaps we should go there for her taffy fix. We head back that way and end up in the doorway of this place where I had seen a few bins of taffy. We’re looking at it, ready to step inside when this chubby, young-teenaged boy comes over to us and asks, “Are you looking for taffy?... Do you really want taffy?... You gotta go down the road and turn left, they have like nine of these bins… its way better” and he walks away, glancing back at us as he goes. Way to be a good salesman kid… for the wrong store! Finding the place, Amanda packs up a couple of boxes of taffy and Mia gets a few pieces in a brown paper bag before we return to the van.
It’s still pouring but even so, we attempt to find Snail Road and the dunes again. We see the dunes but no Snail Road. Fail. No points for Alex 1. Then we go to a harbor on the west side of The Cape and another lighthouse on the shore, pulling up in the car as close to the shore as possible, just to see it in the rain. It’s beautiful and I wish we could swim more but it’s getting late and we still need to stop by Hyannis to say bye to Erica before heading home.
1 comment:
I love you guys!! wish you were here longer. hahaha, Camila your commentary is PRICELESS
oh, ernesto's. so good. so relaxing with you. SO DAMN REFRESHING TO SEE YOU
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