We started off our final day in Maine at the Miss Portland Diner. It’s such a cute little restaurant, and though the food was super yummy, I was reluctant to finish, because that meant it was time to leave Maine.
But eventually we did finish, and began our 2-hour drive to Boston. I was excited because I’ve never been to Boston, and I’ve heard great things about it. Plus, there’s so much American history there, and I couldn’t wait to see all the places I’ve only read about up till now. And, best of all, we’d get to see our friend Kris, and meet her husband and baby. Hooray for friends in a new city!
Amber did a bang-up job of navigating to and through the city. There were cars everywhere, and it was definitely a big city with crazy big-city drivers--we were a long way away from our sleepy, empty two-lane highways. Amber took us right up to the door of our hotel, where my mouth fell open. I double-checked the address, because after all our stays in chain motels, I couldn’t believe this fancy hotel! I mean, seriously, there was even a castle outside our room!
We met up with Kris and her sweet baby, Caroline. I hadn’t seen Kris in forever and ever, so it was awesome to see her again, and that baby Caroline—I wanted to scoop her up and cover her in kisses, but I deferred and let her Auntie Amber have first crack at her.
It was definitely warm in Boston, much warmer and more humid than any of the other cities we’d been in (with the exception of Moab, which had a dry heat that tried to kill me). Kris lead us through the public garden and Boston Common, to the beginning of the Freedom Trail. The trail is a 2 ½ mile brick path winding its way all through the city, past all the historical sites. We were ready to learn all about it!
We strolled to the first couple stops, past a church and the State House, which was gorgeous. We ended up at the super famous cemetery where all the early patriots like Sam Adams, John Hancock, Paul Revere, the Franklin family and Mother Goose were buried. To my surprise, Mark LOVED the cemetery. He spent a good hour in there, cruising from headstone to headstone, taking pictures. He was so excited that at one point, I turned, and saw that he had joined a walking tour. He followed the tour guide on to the next few stops, until I stopped him and said he either had to cough up some money for the tour, or come with us for free.
I couldn’t get over how old some of the tombstones were, until Edra said, “I thought they was old too, until I went to Greece.” Had to agree with her on that…
Saw some other incredible sites—including where Sam Adams called for the Tea Party revolt, where the Declaration of Independence was first read, where the Boston Massacre occurred, and where Paul Revere saw the lanterns (one if by land, and two if by sea!). We walked through the Quincy Market for a snack, then continued on through the Farmer’s Market and to the oldest bar in the country. The Freedom Trail was super awesome, because it had so much history, so much about the birth of our nation, and it was humbling to walk along and see those places.
There were also some very funny sights like this one—just a couple of friends enjoying a cold beer and some good conversation.
And we lucked into a wedding at the Old North Church. We never did see the bride and groom, but we saw the bagpiper outside in the back courtyard, and listened as he serenaded all the guests leaving the ceremony. That was so cool!
The trail led on to the U.S.S. Constitution, the oldest working battleship in the country, but that was a long walk across a bridge and then some. We decided to end at the Old North Church, and head back into Little Italy.
Kris was a fantastic tour guide, sharing historical stories along the way. Her baby, Caroline, was a trooper, and did the whole trail with us, never once complaining. Kris’ husband Dennis is a proud, loyal Boston native, so when he arrived after a harbor cruise, he gave us even more great stories, including the one about the great molasses flood, then pointed us to one of the most congested sights in the city—Modern Pastries, home of some pretty dang amazing cannolis. We waited in line a long time, but it was worth every second!
But we still hadn’t seen the water, so we cruised down to the waterfront, which was filled with tourists, locals, and even another newly-wed couple posing for photos. It was some great people watching.
Baby Caroline had to go home to bed. We were getting hungry, so Dennis and Kris recommended the Barking Crab for dinner. It was a busy Saturday night, but we found some seats to wait and sample the local beer—which happens to be my favorite, Samuel Adams. They even had a red Sam Adams sold only in the Boston area, so I happily tried (and loved!) that.
Mark enjoyed his dinner as well, but even more, he loved when the waiter paraded around a 10-pound lobster!
That thing was ENORMOUS! Our waiter said they sold a couple of them a week, though Mark was shocked at the price.
By the time we left, it was late and we were full and happy. However, we had no idea where our hotel was in relation to where we were. Luckily, it turned out to be only a short cab ride away. I put Mark to bed, tucked into my whipped cream cannoli, and realized I really, really dug Boston.
We woke up this morning with a task at hand—homemade lobster rolls. Sadly, it was the end of the line for our little friend in the refrigerator.
Edra took Amber to work this morning, and returned with a bag of lobster rolls (the bread itself, not the lobster filling). She prepped the water, boiling it, and tossed in some spices. Mark was obsessed and repelled all at the same time—he didn’t want to look or be involved with the lobster boiling, but he didn’t want to miss anything, either. So he shadowed Edra carefully, from a distance, camera in hand, repeatedly asking, “Bob, how’s the water? Bob? BOB!!”
(He’s got a sick sense of humor, like me—we both thought this magnet, which Amber gave us, was HILARIOUS.)
I kinda felt like Mark—curious, but I also kept my distance. Edra shouldered all the hard work, and I washed the dishes afterwards. She kept cracking jokes, which she later admitted was a way to tune out the fact she was about to cook a live lobster. I totally understood the joking.
We had a little mechanical difficulty (Amber was right, the stock pot was too small), but 12 minutes later, we had a bright red lobster and some toasted rolls, all thanks to Edra. We thanked the lobster for its sacrifice and for providing us with sustenance, then rinsed it off and broke into it, slathering the pieces with melted butter. It was delicious!!!
I also got to see another Maine native in action today--the little groundhog who lives under Amber's garage! He's elusive, and although Edra and Mark had seen him, I still hadn't gotten a good view. Today was my lucky day! I just wanted to go out and hug him, he was so cute!
We were meeting Amber for lunch, but we had some time to kill first, so we headed back to Freemont. We still hadn’t tried a whoopie pie yet, and figured we’d pick some up at Wicked Whoopies.
The entire store was filled with whoopie pies! I wasn’t quite sure what they even were—cookies? Filled with frosting? The lady behind the counter explained they were like inside-out cupcakes—two cake discs with a marshmallow-fluff frosting on the inside. They had a bazillions different flavors—maple, banana, red velvet, pumpkin, chocolate chip, lemon, mocha, orange creamsicle, oatmeal, strawberry, just to name a few! They all looked fantastic, and I couldn’t decide on just one flavor.
So, I didn’t. Instead, since there were four of us, we picked four flavors: mint, red velvet, peanut butter and a basic chocolate pie, which the woman recommended if we’d never had a whoopee pie before. It was gonna be an awesome whoopee pie sampling!
We still had some time left, so we moseyed across the street to the chocolate factory. That’s right—homemade chocolates! We were gonna have a sugar high all day long.
While drooling over the goods, the cashier announced they were having a hands-on lesson in the back—they were making chocolate owl cake lollipops. You could decorate two owls for $6, so I signed Mark up before he even asked.
The store was actually empty except for us, so Mark got a private lesson from the chocolate chef. She taught him how to dip, decorate and dry the owls, and when he accidentally lost on in the tub of melted chocolate, she just handed him another one. He had a blast, painstakingly stinking eyes and a mouth, and then a colorful little Mohawk to his owls.
Amber finished working the same time Mark finished his owls, which was perfect. We bagged up the owls, and rushed over to get Amber.
We drove back to the super cute lobster shack we’d seen the day before for a late lunch. On the way, we stopped at a roadside farm stand. The young girl working there was super chatty—I think she was just glad to have someone to talk to. She had everything-- homemade blueberry pies, fresh vegetables, even challah! (It was Friday.) It was the cutest little stand.
The lobster shack was amazing. I’d already had my lobster for the day, ad honestly, by Day 4 in Maine, I was getting a little burned out on lobster. (I know, I know—blasphemy!) Instead, Amber and I got shrimp and chips (phenomenal!), Mark got more clam chowder, and Edra tried the lobster roll and onion rings. We were all super happy!
By about 3:30, we were ready to go on to our next adventure, to Camden, Maine, where Amber had promised Mark a boat ride on a pirate ship. What I didn’t know was that Camden was about two hours away—don’t know how I missed hearing that, but I did. After 14 days in the car (and three days out of it), my mental state immediately crumbled at the thought of a long drive. But Amber was really excited to show us Maine, including the cutest town in the state, and her favorite harbor in Camden.
Maine was beautiful, and Amber was right, the little town was super cute. However, I am not proud to admit that my mental state continued to degrade the longer I was in the car, an Mark was not far behind me. (So much for being a good example!) Suddenly, half an hour from Camden, we came upon a little wine tasting store and I shouted, “STOOOOOOP!!!” My wonderfully patient beyond words and dear friend Amber complied.
Not only could you sample wines, but you could pair it with cheese, too! It was all so good…I purchased a hunk of Maine white cheddar and a bottle of light, summery wine, and a corkscrew. (The cashier gave us some cups.) With a happy buzz and a renewed spirit, we finished the drive to Camden.
No one was starving, even though it was now evening. But we parked right next to a little deli, so we went inside and purchased some salami, crackers and water to go with our cheese and wine.
Unfortunately, the last pirate ship was leaving the dock as we got to the bay. Instead, we found a couple empty benches, and enjoyed a happy hour by the bay. We divvied up the whoopee pies, which were AWESOME. The classic chocolate was good, the red velvet, not so much. The real winners were the mint and peanut butter filled pies, which made us happy, happy, happy!
They were rich, though, and even between the four of us, we couldn’t finish them. Instead, we spread the happiness, and gave the leftovers to the grateful man sitting next to us.
We wandered through the streets of Camden, weaving in and out of the little shops. It was Friday night, and kinda late, so most of the shops were closed. I liked this sign with the shop hours:
But we did find a couple cute stores that still had the lights on. In the last one, an employee walking by noticed the camera around my neck and asked if I’d seen the moon outside. I said no, so she pointed me out to the back deck, where I saw the most incredible full moon ever. The mosquitoes swarmed me as soon as I walked out there, but it was so pretty, I let them bite me while I took about a hundred pictures.
We finally packed up around 9:30. We had a long drive back, but we had friends and that gorgeous full moon to keep us company along the way. We also had bellies full of good wine, cheese and whoopie pies, and really, how much better can life get than all that?
I’ll tell you: not much.
Sadly, Amber had to work the whole day, which meant we were on our own. Which turned out to be not so good for Amber’s fridge. ;-)
Edra, Mark and I returned to the port. Edra wanted to shop, and she’d seen a cool tour she wanted to go on—lobster fishing! Mark and I were game for that.
While Edra headed to the shops, Mark and I headed to lunch. I lived up to my “lobster every day!” decree and ordered a lobster roll from the Portland Lobster Company. (Lobster roll rating: 10 claws, out of 10. Was going to subtract points for not using the traditional mayo recipe, but it was made with drawn butter instead, which was incredible. So, no subtraction.)
(Oh, and other scary fact—you can buy lobster rolls almost anywhere—including Arby’s! And you can buy fresh, live lobster at the gas station! So gross!)
Mark didn’t want lobster, and opted for the roadside hot dog stand instead. He returned holding some weird neon red dog that I swear would glow in the dark. It definitely freaked me out.
“Why is your hot dog HOT CHEETOS RED?” I gasped, but apparently, only I was alarmed.
“It’s a Maine dog,” Mark shrugged, as if that explained anything, and lit into it. I actually stopped eating my lobster roll to watch him, horrified. (Amber later explained that it was, indeed, a Maine hot dog, and that Mainers swear by their bright red dogs—they refuse to eat a normal, brown hot dog. Well, OK, then…)
Edra joined us, with her lunch. The sun was shining, and after eating, we headed toward the lobster boat, excited to get out on the water.
Once aboard, we donned bright orange rubber aprons and gloves—it was time to work!
Our two awesome guides explained the ins and outs of lobster fishing. They showed us how to find the right buoy among all the other buoys, and how to pull in the traps. There were some other kids on the boat, and while Mark wasn’t as crazy about touching everything as they were, he held his ground when they tried to shove him aside. He had a prime spot for reeling up the lobster pots, and he didn’t give it up.
It was a lucky day—we hauled in at least one lobster per pot. We tossed a couple back for being just shy of legal size, and another one because she was a breeding female. But we ended up with five or six keepers.
After hauling in the pots, we learned to re-bait the traps, and sink them again. Mark was the master of pushing the traps back into the water.
Mark overheard the guides telling a kid he could buy a fresh-caught lobster for $6, and take it to the Portland Lobster Company next door, where they’d cook it for $9. Mark was intrigued. Even though he doesn’t eat lobster and refused to hold a live one upon boarding the boat, he couldn’t be swayed form wanting one. Edra said she’d buy him a lobster if he swore he’d taste it, and before I could protest, Mark agreed and was holding a bagged lobster.
Which was a little problematic, since we were going out for the night, and weren’t sure what to do with our crustacean. (That’s right, we had a little crustacean frustration!) I didn’t know what to do with the lobster, because we were on our way to a baseball game, and probably wouldn’t be ready to cook it until the next day. The captain assured us we could keep the lobster in the fridge overnight, and so, a little apprehensively, that’s what we did.
I planned to gently break the news of the crustacean house guest to Amber, but Mark beat me to the punch.
“Uh, so, you’re fridge is gonna smell bad,” he told Amber bluntly. I thought she was gonna crash the car when she screamed, “WHY???” She was right to be alarmed!
I explained about our trip, and about Mark’s souvenir, but Amber wasn’t sold. She was gracious as only Amber can be, but even she could take only so much. She wanted to know exactly what we were gonna do with it, and then immediately changed her mind and DIDN’T want to know. We told her we were making our very own lobster rolls the next day.
“I don’t have a lobster pot!” she protested, but we insisted (incorrectly, it turned out) that her stock pot would be big enough.
Amber tried to put the news out of her mind. Instead, she drove us to our next adventure, to see another really cute lobster shack nearby. But when we drove by a super cool cemetery on the way, I yelled at her to stop.
The cemeteries back East are so different than those in California. Every once in a while, you see a historic California cemetery with the giant granite headstones. But here in the East, they are the norm. I wanted to get out and look around closely.
The headstones were old, old, old—some from the early 1800s! Mark was very excited to find one guy who died in the 1800s and was a veterinarian.
“He was in a war!” Mark yelled, and I realized he meant “veteran,” not “veterinarian.”
“There are lots of veterinarians,” he called out. “This guy was in the War of 1812.” He paused, looked at me and asked, “Which war was that?”
And although I am no history buff, for once, I was smarter than a fifth grader.
“It was called…the War of 1812!” I told him. Luckily, sarcasm is usually lost on him.
Then it was on to the lobster shack, which was really cute. We didn’t have time for dinner—we had to get to the baseball game. The local favorites, the Sea Dogs, were playing, and the stadium was PACKED. (It’s the minor league team for the Boston Red Sox, so the fans were rabid!)
Amber had a volunteer commitment, so she didn’t join us, but before she left, she told us we had to do three things: 1) Take a picture with Slugger the Sea Dog, 2) Eat a Sea Dog Biscuit and 3) Fill up the Trash Monster.
We succeeded in two out of the three. We took a pic with the Slugger statue, but then I grabbed the real Slugger and got my photo with him.
Mark wolfed down a Sea Dog Biscuit (an ice cream sandwich), then proclaimed it “just okay.” The Trash Monster passed us by, but we were so busy cracking up at it, we forgot to put our trash in there.
The game was a blast. For seven bucks each, we got general admission tickets, and sat just behind home plate. It’s the closest I’ve ever sat to the players at a baseball game! I was a bit scared by all the fly balls dropping around us, but my fear proved unfounded—we never got hit.
What I loved was the whole small-town feel—everyone loved those Sea Dogs, and all the fans seemed to know each other. (The game was almost sold out, with 7,100 fans in attendance.) I also loved the whole local vibe—there was a giant L.L. Bean duck boot out in right field, and whenever the home team hit a home run, a giant lighthouse arose from underground in the scoreboard. It rotated its light a couple times, then disappeared. I thought it was hysterical.
The game, like any other baseball game, had a loud, obnoxious guy seated behind us. The difference here was that everybody knew him, including the security guards, so he never got too out of control. I loved when he started yelling at the players (who could totally hear him, we were that close!) to hit the dang ball.
“Hit it outta the ballPAHK!” he screamed in a thick Maine accent, and I silently applauded him in my head for his awesome accent.
“Yeah, Mahk,” I whispered to my son., “Hit it outta the pahk!” We both giggled uncontrollably.
Amber picked us up just before the game ended. Mark was bummed, because it was bobble-head night, but only for the first 1,000 people (which we were not). He was scouring the seats for any forgotten bobble-heads and was mad I dragged him away before he found one.
I was finally able to lure him away by gently reminding him that there was a lobster in the fridge at home, just waiting to scare the bejesus out of Amber. He didn’t care much about the lobster, but the thought of Amber’s face when she saw it—that actually made him giddy. He left willingly with that promise.
Amber lived up to her part, too. When Edra took the lobster from the fridge and held it up to Amber, I thought Am might scream. Instead, she squirmed and gagged and quickly moved away. Which Mark thought was hilarious, so Edra did it again. Amber was finally brave enough to actually touch the lobster, but I saw her shiver when she did.
And so we ended another busy day in Portland. I was really beginning to dig Maine…
Today we were returning Bruno the Wonder Car to the airport. Amber was gracious enough to lend us her car, so I took her to work, then promptly got lost on the way home. We drove across the entire country without once getting lost, but without Adele, our trusty GPS, I was, quite literally, lost in a matter of moments. Luckily, I’d brought my cell, and the GPS eventually got me home.
It was bittersweet to say good-bye to Bruno—we were glad to finish the long drives, but grateful that Bruno had kept us safe from deer, blown-out tires, or other road hazards. We’d pushed that car a lot, racking up more than 4500 miles, with an overstuffed trunk. That was one good little car…
We drove into a little town called Freeport to visit the big name in town—L.L. Bean! We knew we’d found the place when we saw this boot out front. I sent Mark to pose for a picture, and he immediately dove underneath it, just like he did with the big Louisville Slugger bat. Seems he likes being crushed by all the giant landmarks.
Amber was working a half-day, so we shopped at the L.L. Bean stores while we waited for her. We also killed time taking photos. We ran into this big guy, appropriately named the Big Indian, where Edra and I re-created our famous Lewis and Clark pose.
We pulled in to the L.L. Bean lot, but Amber was not out yet. We figured we had time for another quick stop, so we raced toward a roadside shop selling a local delicacy, frozen custard. (I’m telling you, Easterners are obsessed with their frozen treats!) I’ve never had frozen custard before, but Amber had prepped us beforehand. Unlike ice cream, which comes in myriad flavors, frozen custard only comes in three—chocolate, vanilla, and a rotating daily flavor. I opted for chocolate, while Edra ordered blackberry, the flavor du jour. It was very similar to ice cream, but a little more eggy. It was good!
Amber was nervously trolling the parking lot when we returned, so we quickly grabbed her and drove off. She drove us down to the Portland harbor, where we met up with her friend Donna (Donna’s a fellow Parrot Head who came to Cali with Amber last fall to see Jimmy Buffett play. We liked her right off!)
We boarded a nearby boat for a lighthouse tour around the harbor. It was super cool—we saw six lighthouses in all, including this one, which is the most famous lighthouse in Maine (that’s what the captain said). The lighthouses were gorgeous.
We even saw one solar-powered lighthouse, which cracked me up.
It started raining on us halfway through the cruise, but only on one side of the boat. It was kind of funny—it was a wicked crazy downfall, pelting the people on the unlucky side of the boat. It felt kinda nice, breaking up the uncharacteristic heat that had plagued us upon arrival. It was so weird—it was just coming down one minute, and the skies were gray and overcast, and then suddenly, it just stopped. The skies returned to blue, and the sun was shining brightly, and you’d never know we were getting drenched just moments before. We got to see sunny, spectacular views of Portland. It’s a beautiful city.
After the harbor cruise, we moseyed through town in search of happy hour. We found a nice spot outside, complete with freshly potted herbs and sun umbrellas.
It was the perfect spot until 30 minutes later, when the rain returned with a vengeance. The whole crowd on the patio moved inside, immediately filling the restaurant. But the rain never dampened our spirits (literally or figuratively!)—we had beer, appetizers and good friends—and a little rain wasn’t going to ruin our vacation.
We eventually decided to move on to the local brewpub for dinner (the happy hour pizza joint did not have lobster rolls, and I was determined to eat lobster every day). So we braved the rain and ran a couple blocks to the pub, where we enjoyed a very yummy hot meal and inexpensive micro brews. (Lobster roll rating: 7 claws, out of 10. Good lobster, but came with chopped celery mixed in. Negative points for mixing with the traditional recipe of lobster and mayo only!)
And I have to say that any day that ends with a good red micro brew, is a good day in my book. It was only my second day in Portland (or Pahtland, as the Mainers say) but I was digging the town a lot.
Last day of the road trip! We wanted to get to Maine early, so we were up and out of Niagara Falls by 5 a.m.
Edra took the first shift, while I slept. When I opened my eyes, I was amazed to see how beautiful upstate New York was—I had no idea! It was just gorgeous—lush, green trees everywhere and a super nice smooth road. I would definitely return to visit up here, especially since we didn’t have time to stop in Cooperstown and see the baseball hall of fame.
The rest stops along the drive were awesome—bathrooms, food and gas stations every few miles, which was a nice change of pace. We were used to gassing up whenever we saw a station, because sometimes we didn’t see one for hours.
Unfortunately, McDonald’s had a lock on the rest area food, because it was the only restaurant we saw. We stopped for a quick breakfast, but later on passed several other McDonald’s in search of something different for lunch. But after a while, we realized there were no other choices off the through-way, so we finally broke down and ate McDonald's for lunch, too. (Which was entirely too much McDonald’s for anybody—we grimaced every time we saw the golden arches for the rest of the trip—no pun intended!)
We were still playing the license game we’d started in California. We’d seen cars from almost every state, with a few last exceptions. Mark spotted one of the remaining states, Alaska, at a toll booth in New York, and we all cheered. Now we just needed Washington D.C. and Delaware to finish the game and color in all the states.
Turns out the New York through-way is the entrance to the Land of the Toll Road. We went through a lot of states today—New York, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and finally, Maine—and each time we entered one, we’d see a “Welcome to [state name]!” sign, and right behind it was a “Toll booth ahead” sign. The one good thing about those roadside McDonald’s was that they also had ATMs, so luckily, we had enough money to pay the tolls, even though we could never figure out how much they were (the cost varied by how far you’d driven).
The sign below was a really exciting sign, for two reasons. 1) It said Maine on it, which was the first time we’d seen a sign to our final destination, and 2) It said New Hampshire, which meant we were going the right way. I’d told Amber we weren’t going through New Hampshire and she panicked, insisting we had to go through New Hampshire to get to Maine. She worried we would bypass New Hampshire and end up in Canada, so I texted her this sign to reassure her we were close.
Since we hadn’t stopped anywhere except the rest areas, we took Amber’s recommendation and stopped in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, to stretch our legs for a bit. It was the cutest little town, with old brick buildings and cute stores. Even though the buildings were classic Americana, the vibe was definitely modern liberal, and I felt like I would get along well with the New Hampshire people and their many brew pubs. In one of the stores, I saw a refrigerator magnet that pretty much explained my 20s. It said, “College ruined my reputation, my credit and my liver.” Yup, seems about right!
Amber had said that Portsmouth was about an hour from Portland. I wasn’t expecting to leave Portsmouth and instantly enter Maine, but that’s exactly what happened. We drove over the bridge, and on the other side, we saw the Welcome to Maine sign and cheered. We were immediately welcomed by some young locals in the next lane, who saw our license plate and started yelling, “California, YEAH!” Then they lapsed into some inappropriate hand gestures that I’m sure were NOT the official greeting used by any Mainers with a decent upbringing. It was rude, hilarious and unbelievable all at the same time, a surreal end to the road trip.
We had a bit of stress when we realized our offramp was closed, but Adele, our trusty GPS, re-calculated and suggested a different exit. We beat Amber home by about 20 minutes, so we took the time to explore the neighborhood. We shrieked how cute her house was (OK, only I shrieked), then walked down her quiet, cute little street.
A few minutes later, Amber arrived, and there was much rejoicing. We unpacked our car Bruno for the final time, which turned out to be more systematic than sad, because we were hungry, and just wanted to be away from the car.
Amber drove us to the most adorable place for dinner—a lobster shack!
I give the lobster roll here 10 claws out of 10--it was lobster roll perfection! It was my first one, and the best of the trip! The coleslaw was also amazing, and notable because usually I don’t bother with coleslaw. But this one was good!
But this was not just any lobster shack—it was the best one in Maine! It was on the cliffs of a rocky beach, nestled between the water and a lighthouse. And it was at sunset—it couldn’t get any more Maine than that!
Mark loved it because he could chuck rocks into the ocean. Edra and I loved it because in addition to having unbelievably good food, we were in the company of both Amber and the ocean, which we had come to miss dearly during our inland jaunt across the U.S. (Turns out being enveloped in all that land so long made us feel claustrophobic.) It may not have been our beloved Pacific Ocean, but it was the sea, and still made us feel at home.
We savored the food, the company, the beautiful flowers and the funky art surrounding us. We had such a blast that we didn’t even notice it had grown dark and everyone else had left!
Between all the talking, laughing and carrying, we suddenly looked up to see the picnic tables and the parking lot were both empty!
But Amber wasn’t ready to take us home just yet. We learned on this trip that the rest of the country takes their ice cream very seriously, mostly because ice cream stores are only open part of the year. They’re all outdoor places, with picnic tables and big crowds, which is kind of cool. Seems like the whole town comes out after dinner to socialize and enjoy their frozen treats. It's a great way to socialize, and get out in the community.
So Amber honored a request for our daily ice cream. She took us to a funny little shack attached to a gas station that was famous for not only its ice cream, but for it’s funny seating area—plastic chairs nailed together to planks of wood. They looked like rows of chairs on skis! But hey, they worked—no one had stolen the chairs.
I could’ve spent all day looking at the menu—it had all sorts of crazy flavors, including banana, two kinds of walnut ice creams, Grapenuts (yup, the cereal), cake batter and grasshopper ice cream. But the dairy was closing, so I quickly chose a scoop of moose tracks, which was vanilla with chocolate swirls and Heath Bar in it. It was wicked good.
The cashier closed the window and turned off the open sign, but we sat outside eating our cones anyway. Which proved to be kinda mean, because people on the road saw us, pulled into the lot, and sauntered over to order their own cones—only to be told it was closed!
We didn’t get home until 10 that night. We were exhausted because of our early morning and long drive, but we ended our day on a sugar high, tired, happy, and thrilled not to have to drive anywhere the next day. And best of all, we got to see Amber, and we were going to spend the next week playing with her. Yahooooooo for Maine!
You know you’ve been driving too much when you get excited about “only” driving 3 ½ hours to the next destination! Piece of cake, we thought. We usually do that much before lunch.
Our next stop was Niagara Falls. I was very excited for this stop, not just to see the Falls, but also because we were stopping to see friends. Our good family friend, Ann, grew up in Niagara, and her parents still live there. We couldn’t wait to visit them!
We arrived around noon, and Toni (who I’ve always known as Grandmere) and Bob were waiting for us. They were so welcoming and sweet! The first thing Toni did was point out the house next door, and tell us she was born there. I thought that was awesome.
They led us into the house, and like any good Italian grandparents, they immediately started plying us with food. Homemade meatballs (unbelievably good!), which Toni insisted we eat with our hands (I complied!). Cold cuts, bread from the bakery, fresh mozzarella, summer fruit, veggies straight from the garden, and to top it all off, homemade strawberry shortcake. It'd been almost two weeks since we’d been in a home, sat a table without a menu, and it felt fantastic. We didn’t realize how much we’d missed being in a home, let alone being spoiled like this!
We talked about Ann and her husband Steve, and their kids, Seth and Sasha, the best kids I ever babysat. (I always say they were my first set of kids—they broke me in for Mark, all these years later. Now, the Fera-Schanes’ aren’t just friends—they’re family!)
They asked about our trip so far, and we told them all about it, including the Louisville Slugger museum. Toni was thrilled about that, and told us about her favorite baseball player, Derek Jeter, and how much she loved him. I thought she was gonna cry when I told her we got to hold Derek’s bats at the factory! She was so excited about that.
We tried to help clear the table, but Toni fought us off. Instead, she guided us down the hall, and gave us a tour of the house. It was so cool to see where my friend Ann grew up, and just listening to Toni and Bob tell stories about all their kids was hilarious. They even showed us their room, where Edra pointed to a picture taped on the dresser.
“There’s Derek Jeter!” Edra said. Toni sighed dreamily, and Bob smacked his forehead.
“Even in my own bedroom!” Bob cried. “Can you believe that?” But he smiled when he said it.
We promised meet back up for dinner later and left to check in to the hotel and see the Falls. Our hotel was only mile away, and when we pulled into the parking lot, I could hear the roaring waterfalls. I was so excited!!
Our hotel was right at the edge of the park—it took about three minutes to walk to the falls. I couldn’t believe how much water poured down over that ledge, and how quickly. It was loud, too! We hadn’t brought our passports, so we stayed on the American side. I was amazed at how close up you could get to them, and how big they really were.
Mark and I couldn’t wait to get on the Maid of the Mist, the boat at the bottom of the falls. Edra had been before, so she opted out, but Mark and I raced for the elevator.
We traded our tickets for blue plastic ponchos, which we pulled over our heads. It was hot, hot, hot, a muggy, humid hot, and the plastic clung to our hot bodies. I think that was the last dry moment of the ride!
Since it was Monday, we missed the weekend crowds and walked straight onto the boat. It headed past the first falls, the American Falls, which were gorgeous and relatively calm, although not calm enough that I could envision riding down them in a barrel.
The blue ponchos didn’t help much—we got wet. The water was ice cold, but felt great. I took my glasses off because I hate when I get rain on them, but it didn’t seem to bother Mark any.
Then it was on to the Horseshoe Falls, on the Canadian side. These falls were loud, thundering, massive falls, literally walls of water five stories high just exploding into the lake. It was crazy how much water came pouring over the cliff every second! You couldn’t hear anyone or anything but the pounding water, coming at you from three directions. I couldn't even get a good shot of the Horseshoe Falls, because I was worried all the water would ruin my camera.
We’d gotten a little wet from the American Falls, but here, it was ridiculous. We got DRENCHED. As in wet. As in shirts-dripping, hair-plastered-to-our-heads, soaking wet. And we couldn’t stop laughing! It was so funny, the amount of water that hit us—you couldn’t escape it anywhere on the boat, you just tried to move to a different side, but the water was splashing in from everywhere. You had to just go with it, and laugh.
The Maid returned us through the mist and back to shore. We tore off our ponchos and rode the elevator up to the observation deck. Mark took one step out on to the deck, screamed, “WHOA!” and braced himself from a sudden gust of hot air.
It was crazy windy up there, a hot, powerful wind that felt like someone was pointing a giant hair dryer at us. We stood looking over the wall, and were completely dry in about five minutes.
It was almost time for dinner, so we picked up Edra, and headed back to the Feras. They took us to their favorite local Italian restaurant, the Como, for what was seriously the best chicken Parmesan I’ve ever had.
We had such a great time! The Feras knew everyone who walked in the door, and had stories about every building on the block. I could’ve sat with them all night, just listening and laughing.
They’d been so kind to us, Edra and I wanted to thank them for their hospitality by buying them dinner. We didn’t realize that doing so would offend them to their very core, and we felt terrible about that. For a few minutes, it looked like we’d ruined the night, but Bob saved us all by insisting we let him treat us to dessert.
“I’m good with that!” Mark quickly answered, and so it was settled. We piled into their car and drove off for ice cream.
The car radio was playing big band music, and Toni said, “Oh, Glen Miller, my favorite!” And suddenly, our two-hour detour in Iowa was not in vain.
“We drove through Clarinda, Iowa, birthplace of Glen Miller!” I told Toni proudly. “We drove right down Glen Miller Boulevard!”
She clapped her hands excitedly, and I just smiled. Who knew I’d ever get a chance to impress anybody with that little tidbit of info?
The ice cream store turned out to be the most adorable place ever. It was called De-Dee’s Dairy, and offered all sorts of awesome flavors, including cake-infused ice creams.
I got a mint ice cream cone with hunks of chocolate cake in it that was fab, and Edra got lemon cake in hers. I think Mark got one with bubblegum inside, but he wolfed it down so quickly I couldn’t tell.
The cones were HUMONGOUS—seriously, the biggest cone I’ve ever had! Toni and Bob warned us to get the “baby” scoop, which was the smallest size they offered.
This is a “baby” scoop--after the kid ate about half of it!
Like I said, we had such a blast, we could have stayed out with the Feras all night. The sun stayed out late, and I was shocked to see it was almost 10 p.m. So, sadly, we bid the Feras a fond farewell, and returned to the hotel. We had an early morning waiting for us, which was the bad news, and a full day of driving, also bad news. It was also our last day of the road trip, completing the trifecta of bad news. But the good news was that it we would end it in Maine, with Amber, and start a whole new vacation adventure.
Today I woke up like a little kid on Christmas morning. It was Rock n Roll day, and I could barely contain myself!
After a quick breakfast, we made like Elvis and left the building. (See how excited I was???) The directions were simple—go down one block, turn right, and go three more blocks until we saw the giant pyramid. Apparently, there was a shuttle, but I’m glad we walked instead. Otherwise, we would’ve missed this sign:
And we would’ve missed this:
That’s right, it was a giant rubber stamp, just sitting in the grass. I’m sure it has some sort of historical or artistic meaning, but I’m not sure what that is. It did crack me up, though.
There were also a couple of cool big guitars on the sidewalk. Louisville had giant horse statues all over town—Cleveland had guitars.
I thought downtown Cleveland was dead the night before—but it was even quieter this morning. It was really kind of spooky. You know those horror movies when the world ends and the characters wander the empty city streets? That’s what it felt like. Even the churches were empty—on a Sunday morning at 9:30! Pretty eerie…
And then, we saw it. The iconic pyramid, set in the middle of a big concrete island. I was like a pre-schooler—I couldn’t stop smiling and clapping. Here it was, the home of rock, and I was about to go in!
We read the sign commemorating this particular Ohio historical landmark, and why, indeed, Cleveland is considered the birthplace of rock n’ roll. It was pretty interesting, especially because when you think of music, you think of musical meccas like New Orleans, L.A., New York, Seattle…Ohio? But it’s true, that’s where my favorite form of music was born.
I didn’t think I could be any more excited, until we approached the entrance. There, above the door, was a banner for a special temporary exhibit—Women Who Rock! Hell to the yes!!! Suddenly, a great thing got even better. We were even more stoked about our visit.
We got there at 10 a.m. on the dot, just as the museum was opening, and waited patiently in line to buy tickets. There was a photographer at the front of the line, and we waved us over to the green screen. Mark smiled nicely, but Edra and I erupted into our best rock poses, fists held high, ready to rock. The photographer laughed at us.
“It’s always the quiet ones,” he told Edra. “You’re so well-behaved in line, then BAM! You bring it for the photos.”
We were only in the lobby of the museum, and I was already giving myself whiplash.
“There’s the giant Zoo TV sign from the U2 tour!” I screamed. “There’s the CBGB awning! There’s…a giant hot dog hanging from the sky? I don’t know why that’s there, but look at those cars hanging down, too!”
The main exhibit started in the basement. We took the escalator down, and I raced to a display case. It had some amazing guitars in it—ZZ Top guitars, an Ani DiFranco guitar, Dave Wakeling’s white guitar, the one he used the whole time for both the English Beat and General Public. There were some Jerry Garcia guitars, too—I spent about 15 minutes circling the case over and over again, just saying, “Wow, WOW!” I hadn’t even made it into the main exhibition area yet!
There was a brief movie about how rock started out as gospel music, and how it was pretty much stolen from the African-Americans. The movie premise was that rock was like a train barreling down the tracks—you either jumped aboard, or got out of the way, because it was powerful, and not slowing down for anything.
We moseyed past all the granddaddies of rock, the people who started out with a twangy guitar and a lone voice. It told of the gospel and bluegrass singers who paved the way. We moved past a section on censorship and the Parent’s Resource Music Group (PMRC), which I’d forgotten about. Then it was on to the Elvis room, where they had a huge car on display that Elvis had given an employee during the 70s. Elvis’s life was on display, too, through videos, signs, old letters and his clothes hanging in the cases.
I lost both Mark and Edra here, in the second room. I think I lost myself, too, in all the words, the stories, the displays. I didn’t worry about them—I knew Edra was soaking it all in, too, at her own pace, and I knew Mark would find something to interest him, too. He’s really into music, but his history is much more recent—he doesn’t have the decades of appreciation that Edra and I do. Luckily, there were lots of interactive displays where he could listen to music and watch videos, so I knew he was fine.
There was a random, circular little room alcove to the side of the Elvis room, which I thought was the Women Who Rock exhibit. On the walls were fantastic black and white framed photos of the women musicians who played in Cleveland over the past 25 years. They were evocative and moving, full of emotion. It was like a front-row view of some of the best concerts around.
The museum does a fantastic job of breaking the music up by time, genres, and even individual musicians. After Elvis, the displays were by decade, from the 50s be-bop and early rock (Little Richard, Marvin Gaye), to the 60s (the hippies!), the 70s (punk!), the 80s (new wave, hair bands and heavy metal!) and the 90s (grunge music!). It was unbelievable, all of it, and the things they had on display just blew my mind. Angus Young’s schoolboy outfit, Slash’s hat, the Scorpions double guitar. They had hand-written lyrics (on notebook paper!) from some of the most famous songs around, and they had videos of everything. I seriously could have pulled up a chair and sat there reading all day long.
Just giving you a little eye relief with some flying cars!
Breaking up all the words...with a giant flying hot dog!
