The rain continued as we made our way to Boston. Or not really Boston, as we found out once we arrived at Normandy Farms. There are no RV parks close to Boston, so we had to settle for one that the navigation system said was forty-five minutes away. Maybe it would take forty-five minutes if you drove in the middle of the night, and if you had an open parking spot once you got to Boston. But for us the journey ended up taking much longer.
Partly due to the Massachusetts drivers, known locally as Massholes. Most of the drivers had a phone to their ear, many while using the right emergency shoulder of the freeway as an exit lane. Apparently that is a sanctioned traffic easing strategy near Boston during rush hour: turning the shoulder into a lane. I'm sorry, but those two things are not one and the same, even during extenuating situations like daily rush hour traffic.
Really it was my fault that we were driving around Boston at all. I underestimated Boston as a city, had mentally downgraded it to more of a town than a serious city. In my imagination Boston was a wee bit smaller than San Francisco, populated mostly by university students and Irish dock workers. There were ducklings crossing the road and some tourists slurping clam chowder, but traffic was nil and the subway was a perk more than a necessity. At least that's how it was in the Boston I created.
But back to reality. We arrived at the resort-style Normandy Farms Campground on a Tuesday and it was mostly empty. The woman at the desk told us it would be full over the weekend so there were very few sites available without a reservation. So we accepted a site way at the back, quite a distance from the two playgrounds, the indoor pool and workout facility, and the disk golf course. It was raining anyway, so the best we did was a drive to the indoor pool and then an early bedtime.
The rain continued the next day, so we decided on an indoor activity: The Boston Children's Museum. It was a four story warehouse of fun, and we couldn't possibly see everything in one day. One of the neatest things was a three story netted climbing area. There were parents at all levels, either trying to help their kids to the exit or trying to convince their kids that they needed to exit immediately. The museum also had a bubble room, a ball rolling room, a building site area, and much more. We spent a few hours exploring, then headed back to the car during a brief break in the rain.
We all woke up really late the next day. It was still dark and rainy. We had no real plans. Then I saw on Facebook that my cousin lives outside of Boston, and she was able to meet up that evening. We left for Somerville in the late afternoon and hit Harvard right at rush hour. I did not realize Harvard was in Somerville, but once in the area there was no way to get around the campus. We tried, but one-way streets would bring us back to the same main street that runs right past Harvard. It took us half an hour to traverse a two mile stretch that was crawling with young Ivy Leaguers.
We were rather late meeting up with Carina and her boyfriend, Joshua. Thankfully they had scored us a booth at Flatbread Company, a pizza joint and candlepin bowling alley. The pizza was scrumptious with farm fresh toppings and a chewy thin crust. Flatbread also had a full bar and good beer selection. It was really nice to catch up with Carina and chat about family.
Any leftover whining was squelched with an ice cream cone from JP Lick's across the street. We ate ice cream out on Davis Square and watched students walking to one of the many bars or sitting on benches enjoying the night. I could see the appeal of the area, especially if one was not silly enough to drive there.
By Friday the rain had finally cleared. We decided to try the T, Boston's subway, instead of driving. It still took an hour and a half to get to Boston from the RV park, but at least we weren't stuck in traffic most of the time. Our first destination was the Public Garden, home to the famous Mr and Mrs Mallard of "Make Way for Ducklings" by Robert McCloskey. We rode on a swan boat and saw the island where the Mallard family lived. It still looks exactly like it did in the book's illustrations. The swan boats are pedaled by the operator which makes for a smooth and serene ride.
After the boat ride we planned to walk up to the North End for some past and cannolis. At first we were following the Freedom Trail, a pedestrian path that links sixteen historical markers in the downtown Boston area. We saw the Boston Common and the State House, but then we were getting kind of lost and really hungry. We abandoned the North End idea and instead wandered into the Union Oyster House.
We happened upon quite a landmark. The Union Oyster House is billed as America's Oldest Restaurant. The building is over 250 years old and has been serving oysters since 1826. I had a Sam Adams Oyster House brew while taking in the history. The booths and bar were made of thick slabs of wood, and old photographs of the area lined the walls. There was a large tank of lobsters next to the bar. Our waitress was friendly and prompt. She gave Lukas a booklet about the Union House to color, and put his milk in a special seafood themed holographic cup. We were sold at the cornbread and butter, so went full claws with lobster raviolis for Brian and a lobster newburg for me. Brian also had an excellent cup of clam chowder. Two beers and lots of lobster later, we rolled out to the T station. That was enough Boston excitement for us. It was back to the RV park to consider our next destination.
When we returned to Normandy Farms it was a changed place. It was Friday night and the RVs kept rolling in, bringing family after family. It was then that the full strength of Massachusetts culture hit me. The talk was loud, the accents were thick, and the Red Sox pride was intense. Most folks seemed to be from an hour or so away. Many of them had come all the way from Boston. Once again I kicked myself for thinking this RV park was near the city.
Like true New Englanders, we had weekend plans at the Cape. My vision of Cape Cod (having visited there only once when I was too young to remember) was one of wealthy city folks getting away for some peace and quiet at their vacation home. Solitary figures stood on rocky shores being whipped by the wind. Or children played in the sand under the nanny's watch while mom sunbathed and dad worked. I needed to see for myself what Cape Cod was really about.
We checked in at a Falmouth RV park that looked much like any other park we've stayed at, though the lake was natural rather than man made. It was a sunny afternoon and a good day for a beach excursion. Water was on all sides, so we didn't really pick a destination. Instead we drove around until a street led to the ocean. This beach was covered in cobblestone size rocks and mussels, but there was a sandy spit and some large tide pools. The water was crystal clear and not too cold.
It was early September, and it wouldn't be long before the weather turned. We enjoyed the early fall evening by getting out the grill. Brian got busy marinating and grilling his first flank steak. I opened up a nice Merlot bought earlier at the corner store. It seemed an appropriately extravagant meal for the Cape, and it was mighty tasty, too!
On Sunday we dropped Brian off at the golf course then headed for another beach. My grandparents had spent summers in the Cape and my mother remember Silver Beach being sandy rather than rocky. I drove by Silver Beach only to find that they were charging twenty dollars for parking. That seemed over the top expensive, so I drove down the way and eventually stumbled upon a free sandy beach. Upon further research I think it was Chapoquoit Beach, which was another spot visited by my mother's family back in the sixties. It is also known as one of the best beaches on the Cape, so I got lucky. The sand was soft and the water was clear. After lots of fun in the sun and a brief dip in the ocean, we crossed the street to explore the wetlands. We snuck up on fiddler crabs and played with snails until it was time to for a snack.
We drove through Falmouth to Woods Hole, a town on the south-east corner of Cape Cod. The main drag is two blocks long and includes a pie place, a couple good restaurants, and a smattering of galleries. Woods Hole is best known for its environmental research facilities. My father often had work trips to Woods Hole, so I was curious to check it out. He had also recommended the pie, and everyone knows I will go far for a good slice of pie. Unfortunately they were out of the blueberry, so I can't give an accurate assessment of their pie making skills. But I did like the Woods Hole vibe and would definitely visit again.
On Monday we took a ferry to Martha's Vineyard because we had to see where presidents and celebrities spend their vacations. We were greeted by the Painted Ladies, Victorian era houses in beautiful condition. We only had a few hours on the island, so first we stopped at a pub and sushi house for some excellent clams and sushi. The blueberry beer, complete with actual blueberries, was not as good. Then to the beach, where Lukas ran around in his undies being rather scandalous. Another week on the island would have been nice, but soon we were back to the ferry. The take home impression of the island was of an old money club, where no one needs to flaunt their wealth but will get their spoils just the same. It was an upscale fisherman's wharf, without the tacky tourist shops and human robots. There were beaches and ferries and not too many cars and plenty of restaurants and bars. I'm glad we made the journey.
The next day we packed up camp and headed for the smallest state in the country, Rhode Island. As planning luck would have it we booked a place in Newport. Apparently Newport is a big deal, which I learned upon arrival. Newport is home to many spectacular mansions, some of them open for tours. Above Easton Beach there is a three mile cliff walk overlooking the Atlantic which happens to cut through the back yards of some of these mansions. Newport also has an Ocean Drive, similar to Monterey's Seventeen Mile Drive, along which one can view rocky shores and more mansions.
After a day of mansion sight seeing, we traveled up to Providence to visit the Roger Williams Park Zoo. A friend and former colleague is a keeper there so we got a sneak peek at some of the animals. Lukas got to meet tree kangaroos, anteaters, binturongs, and see the headquarters of the American Burying Beetle Recovery project. On our way out the African spurred tortoises were busy fighting, then mounting noisily, only for the aggressor to chase once again then mount a different tortoise. We had to tear Lukas away from all the excitement. Thanks for a wonderful visit, Briana!
Other Newport highlights: fried clams from Flo's Clam Shack. Driving around the harbor area, which reminded me of SF's marina district. Taking a run through neighborhoods with nice houses and huge lawns. We also enjoyed watching squirrels eat walnuts from the tree outside our RV.
We happened upon quite a landmark. The Union Oyster House is billed as America's Oldest Restaurant. The building is over 250 years old and has been serving oysters since 1826. I had a Sam Adams Oyster House brew while taking in the history. The booths and bar were made of thick slabs of wood, and old photographs of the area lined the walls. There was a large tank of lobsters next to the bar. Our waitress was friendly and prompt. She gave Lukas a booklet about the Union House to color, and put his milk in a special seafood themed holographic cup. We were sold at the cornbread and butter, so went full claws with lobster raviolis for Brian and a lobster newburg for me. Brian also had an excellent cup of clam chowder. Two beers and lots of lobster later, we rolled out to the T station. That was enough Boston excitement for us. It was back to the RV park to consider our next destination.
When we returned to Normandy Farms it was a changed place. It was Friday night and the RVs kept rolling in, bringing family after family. It was then that the full strength of Massachusetts culture hit me. The talk was loud, the accents were thick, and the Red Sox pride was intense. Most folks seemed to be from an hour or so away. Many of them had come all the way from Boston. Once again I kicked myself for thinking this RV park was near the city.
Like true New Englanders, we had weekend plans at the Cape. My vision of Cape Cod (having visited there only once when I was too young to remember) was one of wealthy city folks getting away for some peace and quiet at their vacation home. Solitary figures stood on rocky shores being whipped by the wind. Or children played in the sand under the nanny's watch while mom sunbathed and dad worked. I needed to see for myself what Cape Cod was really about.
We checked in at a Falmouth RV park that looked much like any other park we've stayed at, though the lake was natural rather than man made. It was a sunny afternoon and a good day for a beach excursion. Water was on all sides, so we didn't really pick a destination. Instead we drove around until a street led to the ocean. This beach was covered in cobblestone size rocks and mussels, but there was a sandy spit and some large tide pools. The water was crystal clear and not too cold.
It was early September, and it wouldn't be long before the weather turned. We enjoyed the early fall evening by getting out the grill. Brian got busy marinating and grilling his first flank steak. I opened up a nice Merlot bought earlier at the corner store. It seemed an appropriately extravagant meal for the Cape, and it was mighty tasty, too!
On Sunday we dropped Brian off at the golf course then headed for another beach. My grandparents had spent summers in the Cape and my mother remember Silver Beach being sandy rather than rocky. I drove by Silver Beach only to find that they were charging twenty dollars for parking. That seemed over the top expensive, so I drove down the way and eventually stumbled upon a free sandy beach. Upon further research I think it was Chapoquoit Beach, which was another spot visited by my mother's family back in the sixties. It is also known as one of the best beaches on the Cape, so I got lucky. The sand was soft and the water was clear. After lots of fun in the sun and a brief dip in the ocean, we crossed the street to explore the wetlands. We snuck up on fiddler crabs and played with snails until it was time to for a snack.
We drove through Falmouth to Woods Hole, a town on the south-east corner of Cape Cod. The main drag is two blocks long and includes a pie place, a couple good restaurants, and a smattering of galleries. Woods Hole is best known for its environmental research facilities. My father often had work trips to Woods Hole, so I was curious to check it out. He had also recommended the pie, and everyone knows I will go far for a good slice of pie. Unfortunately they were out of the blueberry, so I can't give an accurate assessment of their pie making skills. But I did like the Woods Hole vibe and would definitely visit again.
On Monday we took a ferry to Martha's Vineyard because we had to see where presidents and celebrities spend their vacations. We were greeted by the Painted Ladies, Victorian era houses in beautiful condition. We only had a few hours on the island, so first we stopped at a pub and sushi house for some excellent clams and sushi. The blueberry beer, complete with actual blueberries, was not as good. Then to the beach, where Lukas ran around in his undies being rather scandalous. Another week on the island would have been nice, but soon we were back to the ferry. The take home impression of the island was of an old money club, where no one needs to flaunt their wealth but will get their spoils just the same. It was an upscale fisherman's wharf, without the tacky tourist shops and human robots. There were beaches and ferries and not too many cars and plenty of restaurants and bars. I'm glad we made the journey.
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| On the Ferry |
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| Painted Lady, Martha's Vineyard |
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| Atlantic shore of Newport, RI |
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| Oceanfront mansion |
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| Private boat parking for the mansion next door |
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| American Burying Beetles |
Normandy Farms Campground, Foxborough, MA: A-
Huge campground, two fun playgrounds, indoor and outdoor pool, fitness room, disk golf course. We had a spot at the back near construction.
Cape Cod Camp Resorts, East Falmouth, MA: A-
Woodsy, natural lake, playground, two pools. Nice spot up front with lots of room to play.
Paradise Park, Middletown, RI: B
Great location close to mansions and beaches. Small grassy lot with no amenities, not even bathrooms. Nice owner. Pricey. Would stay here again.
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