Maine (Part I)

Back in the beginning of June, I flew up to Portland, ME to spend a week with my immediate family. The trip got off to an auspicious start when, walking down the subway stairs, I missed the bottom step and sprained my ankle. I hadn't left myself enough time to hobble home for ice and ibuprofen, so I just tried to elevate it on the subway ride and then used a cup of ice and a bandanna to ice it when I got to the terminal.

The airport in Portland is tiny and pleasant and the city itself is lovely. Good restaurants, nice shops, right on the water . . . if I were a Sabres prospect I'd be pleased as all get out to be playing there this year instead of Rochester. We went to a really neat ocean-themed antique shop among other storeshad dinner with a college friend of my mother's and then drove up to Rockland, where we were staying. My parents and brother were staying in a time share at a resort with a golf course, health center, and pool, while my sister and I camped at a place nearby. It was nice because there was a comfortable balcony to read on while looking out over the golf course to the ocean and we had a little kitchen so we could cook meals.

Our first full day there we spent ages driving around looking for a little sand beach. No one in Maine seems capable of giving accurate directions. We finally found it and it was a nice little spot with a patch of sand, then rocks.
Then we drove up to a little mom and pop ice cream shop that had been recommended to us, only to learn that it was closed on Sundays. So we ate at Dairy Queen instead, which only served as a reminder of how lame Dairy Queen is. Ice milk is such a waste of time.

The next day we went to the Farnsworth Museum. It would be pretty unexceptional, except for the fact that it has the Wyeth Center, featuring a nice collection of work from all three Wyeths. We also saw the house of the museum's founder and went to get our homemade ice cream, which was everything Dairy Queen's wasn't.

After two days of gorgeous hot weather, we ventured into Camden, the beautiful little town where Edna St. Vincent Millay grew up, on a day that was chill and foggy. We ate by the harbor and then explored the town, going through the park and checking out the shops. The Megunticook River flows under many of the shops, and there's even a bookstore where you can look down through a hole in the floor to see it going along its way.

I can see why so many people like to spend their summers up in this area. It's nowhere near empty but it's incredibly tranquil compared to the overheated mess that is New York in the summer.