Cape Cod Journal, Part I

Just back from vacationing for a week on Cape Cod, where I kept a journal that I hope to excerpt on the blog in the coming days. I was motivated to keep this journal mostly by the fact that we’ve been to the Cape a few times before but never written anything down, with the result that we tend to get confused about where we’ve been and where we haven’t, what we liked and what we didn’t. This time I wanted to keep it straight--so this is a simple record of a 21st century Cape Cod vacation, with a few observations thrown in for good measure. But Cape Cod, despite its tourist-ification, retains some of its power as an elemental place—a raw spit of land thrust out into the ocean, blasted by wind and sea—and that’s part of its appeal. That means this account is also a little haunted by the question of how, or if, one can have an “authentic,” even “elemental,” experience in the face of all the processing and packaging that goes along, for most of us, with the word “vacation.” Mostly, though, I guess it’s just about finding cool beaches and eating good seafood (and how could I forget going to bookstores?). I couldn't help noticing, though, that even with Starbucks and The Gap just around the corner, the salt air still fills one's lungs, the sky is still blue, and the waves still leap up to meet the eye.

Part I

Friday 6/9

Rainy, just as they called for, and just as it has been all week. Today we leave for the Cape. About 5 hours of packing and the usual mix of excitement and irritation as we try not to forget anything (“Do we have Nicholas’s elephant?”), and to make sure the cats get fed while we’re gone, etc. etc. Finally on the road by 2:30, but at least with the van we have room for all our stuff. The traffic is heavy, and moving pretty slow by the time we hit Providence, so we stop in Fall River for an early dinner (to let the traffic abate) at a place recommended by the AAA guide: Le Page’s. The food is good, and the restaurant is exactly as the guide described—a place that still shows some of its humble beginnings as a fried seafood joint, but that has moved on to some more adventurous fare. My seafood platter in white sauce over linguini is quite fresh and tasty (the mussels are nice and tender), though really swimming in butter. It’s a pleasing foretaste of the sun, salt, and, yes, sand, to come. Suzanne’s clam dish isn’t as good, so I share, and Nicholas enjoys the linguini marinara. There are crayons and a child’s menu to color (very important), and the waitress is friendly in an unforced way and great with Nicholas throughout the meal.

The plan works. When we get back on the road the traffic is moving at a pretty good clip, and we find the place we’re staying, in Mashpee, with no trouble. Nicholas loves the inflatable Winnie the Pooh bed we brought along, but is so excited it’s 10pm before he gets to sleep.

Saturday 6/10

Again, rain, just as they called for, and it stays heavy for most of the day, though we keep hoping for a let-up. Lisa and her three year old son, Ben, good friends we were sorry to leave behind when we moved from MA to CT last year, drive over from Arlington to visit us for the day, and end up sharing the rain. We go to the Children’s Museum in the morning, along with a good portion of all the other cooped-up families on the Cape. It’s a lot of fun for the kids, but there’s a frightful non-stop din as all the kids charge headlong from one activity to another. We’re all surprisingly beat when we leave an hour later. Back to the place for nap time, and I escape to Starbucks at Mashpee Commons (yep, right across from The Gap) for a latte and a precious 45 minutes to read my “getaway” scifi novel. But I have trouble getting into the book, and spend as much time taking in the crowd (or rubber-necking, as my family has always called it) as I do reading. There are so many rainy day shoppers on the loose at the “Commons”—a sprawling “village”-style collection of shops--that I could hardly get the van parked. The book is John Varley’s Titan and I have a lot more trouble getting into the second thirty pages than I did the first thirty.

*
After nap, even though it’s still raining, we decide to check out South Cape Beach (we’ve never stayed on this part of the Cape before). This is one of those cases where it could be fun to stroll a little on the beach in a light drizzle, or it could end up feeling cold, wet, and nasty--but we are propelled by Lisa’s just-here-for-the-day gusto. Last summer I didn’t make it to the ocean at all, though I swam a bit in Long Island Sound, so the crash of the surf exhilarates me. After a little desultory digging in the sand at first, we all take off in a sprint and achieve pure unadulterated beach joy for maybe four minutes. Then Nicholas loses a rock to which he has already developed a tenacious attachment (as only a three year old can), and Ben remembers that he doesn’t really like the water so much. After some tears, we all head rather sulkily back to the van. But parenting has taught us to live for those bursts, so the beach expedition will definitely go down in the mental books marked “fun.”

*

Very good pizza dinner at Zoe’s, in Mashpee Commons (which sprawls over to the other side of the road), and then Lisa and Ben set off for the drive home. Before we get in the van to head back to the condo for the evening, Suzanne, Nicholas, and I meander down a little path through the woods and discover an empty skateboard park. Ignoring the obscene mottos and pictograms provided by the local skatepunks, we all run up and down the ramps. Probably not the thrashingest moves the park has ever seen, but it’s pretty good fun. Remarkably, the sun breaks through the clouds, putting in a last-minute appearance and stirring hope for tomorrow.