Category: Travel

So we went to New England. Like any other trip, or any other snippet of life, there was good and there was bad. On our first full day Cheryl, Beth and I went into Boston to see some sights. As is our custom, we took the commuter train into town from Lowell and bought a day pass for the subway in town. We got off the train around 11 a.m. and immediately decided that we were all hungry. We stopped at a restaurant across the street from the Fleet Center/North Station called The Fours. I have no idea what the name means, but they serve good food and even better service. From there we hopped on the T and went to Charleston (across the river from Boston) to see the Bunker Hill monument and the USS Constitution. I consider myself to have an above average appreciation for history, and standing on Breeds Hill gave me goose bumps (Note: the battle of Bunker Hill took place on Breeds Hill – don’t ask.) From there we walked back down the hill and checked out Old Ironsides. For the first time I took the tour of the ship and was once again awed by this close encounter with history. There I was, standing on the deck of a war ship built at the direction of our countries’ first president, about two hundred years ago – simply amazing. From there we walked the public gardens and the Common, ate dinner at Haymarket Square, and let Beth play to her heart’s content at the Children’s Museum. By the time we were ready to get on the T for the last time it was dark. I was prepared to feel more than a little wary walking through town at night. Strangely, I felt at home. Instead of feeling foreboding, the city felt welcoming, almost embracing. We had a spring in our step as we walked to the station, recalling the day that had just past. Considering that we had been on our feet all day, having spring in our step at 8:30 p.m. was some feat, and a testament to the enthusiasm with which we recounted our wonderful day. Alas, even enthusiasm can take you so far as we collapsed on the commuter train ride back to Lowell.

On Thursday we leave home again for far away places. Let me say that in our house, far away places include anyplace outside Pinellas County. We are off to New England for a wedding and re-acquaintance with our roots. This trip will be shorter than our norm, but we hope to pack in all of the excitement of a longer trip. This is where I’m supposed to say that I’m really looking forward to the wedding. Don’t get me wrong, I am. Just the same, I’m really looking forward to the day in Boston we have planned. We’ll drive into Lowell, take the train into Boston, and go from place to place on the “T.” Taking the train adds expense, and it might even take more time, but I won’t miss the hassle of driving in town, and Beth loves the train ride. I can’t say that I blame her.

I’ve been ready for this trip for about two weeks, which has done little for my productivity at work. Let’s go already!

This weekend was the trip to Sanibel, and it was everything I hoped it would be. Well, that’s not quite true. I had hoped the Gators would fare better, but that didn’t have anything to do with where I saw the game so I can’t hold it against Sanibel. You probably won’t find this a stretch (having read the last paragraph), but I like to relax. This weekend presented plenty of opportunities to do so, much to my wife’s chagrin. She was a good sport though, and suffered through all of the mindless relaxation with nary a complaint. We indulged her restlessness and went shopping, and found some killer deals on clothing we desperately needed at the local outlet mall. If you ignore the Gator game, the weekend was a complete success.

We planned to take this trip months ago. Ever since our stay at Magnolia one year ago, Beth has been pleading with us to go back to the cabins. This year the drive up was not as pleasant. Last year I was sick, but the drive was great. This year Cheryl was sick and I was in pain. The drive was a chore instead of a relaxing break. Last year we arrived at the cabins after a mild cold front had passed thru, and the air was crisp and refreshing. This year we arrived with a nearly stationary upper level low, and the sky was cloudy, the air heavy with humidity. Everything was musty from the dampness and Cheryl immediately reached for her inhailer. It was an inauspiscious start.

After checking in and dropping off our gear at the cabin, we headed back into town to pick up some perishable provisions. Cheryl was amazed that a small town Food Lion would have a larger selection than a suburban Publix with twice the square footage. We found all of the prepackaged foods that we enjoy so much at home and headed back to the cabin. We eased into dinner. Afterwards I eased into a headache. Neither Tylenol nor Motrin would beat the monster back, so I just went to bed.

The next morning I awoke the sound of raindrops on the roof. I immediately had the urge to go outside to see. Is that strange, having the urge to see rain? I guess I don’t see it all that much in Florida. Besides, it’s strangely relaxing, watching the rain. A downpour gives you just the opposite of peace and quiet, but it can produce the same effect – tranquility. So at last I find what was missing from our last trip, but under much different cercumstances. I sat on the porch, Beth quietly playing inside, typing away on my iBook with the roar of the pouring rain just a few feet away.

Today we learned that the animals can go wherever they want to.

We were visiting the baboons, and a very large male baboon was facing us just on the other side of the retaining mote. We were right a eye level, staring at each other; the large male baboon and I. Not much more than ten feet of water separated the two of us, when I confirmed that the baboon was a male. He had been just siting on a rock directly above the water when his shoulders visibly relaxed, and it almost appeared that he had cast a fishing line into the water. The lack of fishing pole and the faint sound of running water ruined the metaphor. I was barely able to contain my amusement when a stuffy looking yuppie mom was excitedly snapping pictures of the large baboon with her compact 35mm (with built in zoom), false enthusiasm in her voice while yapping with her small child. By the tone of her voice (a kind of distracted, doing two things at once tone – trying to take pictures and carrying on meaningful conversation with a small child at the same time sound), I’m quite sure she did not notice the baboon had his line set. I’m taking all of this in, and I wonder at what her reaction will be when she notices all of this, after the pictures are developed: “Here’s that great big baboon I was telling you about. He was right up close, looking ri. . .wha. . .oohh?”