NY? Yes we can - final
FridayClouds drift in from the Atlantic on a keen breeze
I wake up early and peek out of the house to see the mist rising over the lake. It's a gloriously sunny day and the light dapples through the trees and plays over the piles of leaf fall we have brushed to the corners of the deck. Just the odd raucous duck to disturb the peace.
I am falling in love with New England.
But it's now time to dash off again, and I drop Lincoln back at the station. Minutes later, Andrew arrives on a train out of New York and we start the gentle drive up to Provincetown where he also has a weekend place. This is all working like clockwork - I've managed to pack so much into a few days thanks to my friends' generosity.
It's always easy driving in the US and the roads are mostly quiet at this time of the year. We drive along the long sand bar that is Cape Cod passing pine woods and many small communities, although you don't see much until just before Provincetown when suddenly there it is across the last curve of water, with its huge stone Renaissance tower incongruously marking the town like one of those giant map pins in Google Earth.
Marking the Pilgrim Fathers' first landfall, it seems alien in this clapboard environment of little painted houses and picket fences. Andrew takes me for a walk around the town. Very different from his previous visit in high summer - we discover that this is Women's Week - and it certainly feels like it! The town is full of ladies of every size and shape and we are in a distinct minority.
Andrew shows me some of his favorite spots and then we walk out over the breakwater, a long line of rough granite boulders that stretches out to the far beaches on the last twist ot the Cape, which curves back in on itself here with a final flourish, forming a natural harbour. This explains why the place thrived as a fishing community in this remote location. Then it went through the familiar route of attracting artists, becoming a gay resort, then becoming more of a mainstream destination - much like Key West and other picturesque remote sites.
All the time we are here the air is crystal clear; brilliant sun, with fluffy, heavy, self contained little clouds blustering past; and a constant Atlantic wind that cuts right through you. Invigorating, energising even, but I'm glad I brought a few warm things on the trip.
I think that Andrew is enjoying a quiet break from the city. We both potter about, visiting galleries, me doing some photography (hard not to take a good picture in this place). On the Friday we ate in a well known Italian restaurant (also full of the gals!) and on the Saturday we collaborated on a home made dinner in their apartment. Fish of course.
The flat itself, right in the centre of the town and about 3 buildings back on a narrow plot, is spacious, bright and airy and has a spectacular view of the town and the harbour, filled with fishing boats (mostly I imagine for sports nowadays).
Finally I am reaching the end of the trip and I drop Andrew back in Boston, flying out on Sunday evening from Logan Airport.
It's seemed much longer than 10 days - I've managed to pack so much in, although it's actually felt quite relaxed. After a fairly frazzled summer (workwise - the weather was far from frazzling, one of the worst in London that I can recall), it's just what I needed. Thanks chiefly to my many friends who encouraged me and were generous with their time and ideas. It certainly won't be another 7 years until I'm back - in fact I've got the American bug again after a distinct lack of enthusiasm that must have something to do with the George W era. It's no accident that the gap since my last visit almost exactly covers the period from 9/11 to the Presidential election.
I am falling in love with New England.
But it's now time to dash off again, and I drop Lincoln back at the station. Minutes later, Andrew arrives on a train out of New York and we start the gentle drive up to Provincetown where he also has a weekend place. This is all working like clockwork - I've managed to pack so much into a few days thanks to my friends' generosity.
It's always easy driving in the US and the roads are mostly quiet at this time of the year. We drive along the long sand bar that is Cape Cod passing pine woods and many small communities, although you don't see much until just before Provincetown when suddenly there it is across the last curve of water, with its huge stone Renaissance tower incongruously marking the town like one of those giant map pins in Google Earth.
Marking the Pilgrim Fathers' first landfall, it seems alien in this clapboard environment of little painted houses and picket fences. Andrew takes me for a walk around the town. Very different from his previous visit in high summer - we discover that this is Women's Week - and it certainly feels like it! The town is full of ladies of every size and shape and we are in a distinct minority.
Andrew shows me some of his favorite spots and then we walk out over the breakwater, a long line of rough granite boulders that stretches out to the far beaches on the last twist ot the Cape, which curves back in on itself here with a final flourish, forming a natural harbour. This explains why the place thrived as a fishing community in this remote location. Then it went through the familiar route of attracting artists, becoming a gay resort, then becoming more of a mainstream destination - much like Key West and other picturesque remote sites.
All the time we are here the air is crystal clear; brilliant sun, with fluffy, heavy, self contained little clouds blustering past; and a constant Atlantic wind that cuts right through you. Invigorating, energising even, but I'm glad I brought a few warm things on the trip.
I think that Andrew is enjoying a quiet break from the city. We both potter about, visiting galleries, me doing some photography (hard not to take a good picture in this place). On the Friday we ate in a well known Italian restaurant (also full of the gals!) and on the Saturday we collaborated on a home made dinner in their apartment. Fish of course.
The flat itself, right in the centre of the town and about 3 buildings back on a narrow plot, is spacious, bright and airy and has a spectacular view of the town and the harbour, filled with fishing boats (mostly I imagine for sports nowadays).
Finally I am reaching the end of the trip and I drop Andrew back in Boston, flying out on Sunday evening from Logan Airport.
It's seemed much longer than 10 days - I've managed to pack so much in, although it's actually felt quite relaxed. After a fairly frazzled summer (workwise - the weather was far from frazzling, one of the worst in London that I can recall), it's just what I needed. Thanks chiefly to my many friends who encouraged me and were generous with their time and ideas. It certainly won't be another 7 years until I'm back - in fact I've got the American bug again after a distinct lack of enthusiasm that must have something to do with the George W era. It's no accident that the gap since my last visit almost exactly covers the period from 9/11 to the Presidential election.
Post script: 
Grand Central Station
The buzz about the election all the time I was in the US was een amazing. Everyone I met there was a huge Democrat supporter and was desperately hoping for an Obama win. Now that we know he's succeeded, I hope he will lead a generational change in attitude that can be sustained in the coming years despite the enormous problems. There are many powerful forces in the US that will do everything in their power to undermine his efforts. But the fact that the American people have elected someone with an African father and a Muslim name says a lot for American openness and its ability to reinvent itself, and I feel optimisitc.
posted by Keith at 3:56 am
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