During my earliest twenties I temped in NYC...for about five years. Those were interesting days, to say the least, though in retrospect I don't know how I lasted for so long. Being an uninsured starving artist no longer gives me the warm fuzzies the way it used to, you know?
One of the aspects I love most about having a permanent job (aside from the steady paycheck and unlimited trips to the dentist and gyno) are vacation days. I just love them. I live for long weekends. What is better than a Sunday that feels like a Saturday, or having a four day work week instead of five?
Last weekend Hubby and I wanted to take a quick trip and decided upon the quaint seaport town of Mystic, CT. It was a tough decision. The last quick trip we made was to the Poconos, and although the trip was quite memorable, mirrors on the ceiling belong as lyrics in an Eagle's song, not in my hotel room. Seriously, every time I think of the Poconos I start to sing Hotel California in a creepy Don Henley style.
Our weekend in Mystic was quite an adventure, filled with ships, seafood, wine, history, shopping...
It began on Saturday. We're not what you'd call morning people, and although we planned on leaving the apartment at noon we didn't actually get on the road until 2:00. Shortly thereafter I found myself famished and our only option on the road was Wendy's. I haven't eaten at Wendy's in years and was appalled to discover that their medium soda is a whopping 32 ounces! What the? Just to add some perspective, that's the medium next to a 1 liter bottle of Canada Dry to your right. I totally drank the whole thing, too, which is both upsetting and gross.
We hit a slew of traffic on 95, so by the time we actually got to Mystic and checked into the Hilton it was nearly 5:00. We decided to poke around the shops for a bit and discovered they all close at 6:00. (We were lucky, on Sundays they close at 5:00!) It was just enough time for me to quell that desperate vacation urge to buy. There are over 60 shops with a wide variety of themes.
I have to say, although I am loath to support anything having to do with Paris H., the Hilton at Mystic is lovely. It has a restaurant and lounge on site, a nice pool, offers Crabtree & Evelyn products in the bathroom, and happened to be hosting a knife show that Saturday. I'm not 100% sure whether they were dealing in cutlery or street blades, but either way we didn't attend.
Since it was getting late (in Mystic time, anyway) we decided to walk down to the Seaport. The woman at the front desk said it was about a mile away, and if we were athletic we could probably walk it. Of course the seaport was closed when we got there, so we decided to eat an early dinner. We enjoyed a delicious meal at The Seamann's Inne, which had some of the best fried calamari we've ever eaten: tossed with peppers, a garlic sauce, and sprinkled with asiago cheese. I'm hungry just thinking about it. It was there that I also devoured the beautiful baked stuffed lobster you see floating before your eyes. Delish.
During our cozy dinner I found myself glancing out the window at the setting sun, at first admiring the beautiful scenery, but later realizing we were going to have to walk back to the hotel in the dark, passing a cemetery and haunted houses from 1765 to do so. Um...check, please!
Dearest Reader, I have walked the mean streets of NY alone after midnight on many occasions without batting an eyelid, but I'm not going to lie, on this night I was terrified. It's just, in the light of day, historic houses from the 1700's are lovely, cemeteries by the water are peaceful, walking on a narrow sidewalk into ongoing traffic is, well, no, that's still not pleasant, but at least there was still daylight! That trek back to the Hilton was a bit too Nightmare on Elm Street for my tastes. We measured the distance with the car the next day and there and back was a total of almost two and a half miles! Guess I worked off that key lime tart.
Pretty Mystic by day:
Nightmarish Mystic by night: (Just drive there. For reals. I'm scared just looking at that picture.)
On Sunday we went to Stonington Vineyard, where the midday wine tasting buzz prompted us to purchase a case of wine. I told Hubby we should be set on wine now for about a week or so. (Tee hee) Later that day we saw the guy from the winery in line at Starbucks. I love small towns.
After the winery and Starbucks we walked around the myriad of shops, ate dinner and then found ourselves looking for something to do. It's safe to say that off-season this town closes early. We decided to go to the hotel lounge and found it completely deserted, a veritable ghost town in the way of hotel bars. I suppose all of the real excitement fizzled out with the knife show. In addition to the barren scene, the Bartender was playing The Lord Of The Rings on the two televisions. Whenever Smeagol appeared I jumped, mistaking him for my surly landlord. (Have I mentioned we rent our home from Smeagol?)
On our way back to our room we met a woman who's doing a two year cross-country bike tour. She had just come from New York where she was on some talk shows and she gave us a flyer with her website: www.littlechanges.com. We saw her at Mystic Seaport the next day, but I wasn't feeling as bold (tipsy?) and didn't say hello. Although that night I told her what I always tell people when I'm on the sauce: You'll love Boston! It's (hiccup) the best!
Olde Mystic Village ended up being really interesting, if U.S. Nautical history is your bag. (But who isn't into that?) At first we were a bit nervous, since I think we entered through the wrong side. Hubby was upset that his 35 bucks appeared to have bought us a chance to look at two ships and the olden way to make rope. (See picture to your right) But once we turned the corner we found a neat little 1700's village with a schoolhouse, chemist, print shop, and more. Inside one home there was a woman cooking a chicken over an open hearth fire. This made me slightly nervous, although she appeared to know what she was doing. Hubby got excited when he spotted the Tavern below, but it wasn't open for the summer season yet.
If you're the squeamish type, please don't ask the chemist what the leech in the jar on the counter is for, because you really don't want to know. I started to swoon, just a bit. I'm actually swooning a little now as I write this. Incidentally, how did that modern day leech end up with such a crappy gig? (What are you doing for work these days, Charlie? Oh, I gutta job over at Mystic, sittin' in a jar all day...) Hubby said there's a chance it might have been a fake leech, before pointing out that I was thinking entirely way too much about it.
All in all, Mystic was a nice little getaway, with yummy seafood and plenty of opportunities for shopping. There are even outlets nearby, though we didn't get a chance to hit them up, and an Aquarium in town, though we skipped that, too. I ate a lot of fish that weekend, but somehow wasn't interested in taking the relationship further. Foxwoods is closeby, too, if you have a hankering for slot machines and blue haired ole' bitties.
If you're ever in Mystic be sure to stop in at Mystic Pizza, even if just to say you did. I dared Hubby to ask the lady at Starbucks for directions and he did. It's fun to be tourists. The pizza was good, although I've never seen the movie.
So my long weekend in Mystic was bursting with restful, out of town loveliness. This weekend, however, will no doubt be bursting with Smeagol, who deemed it mandatory to have our walls and ceiling painted immediately. Indeed a desperately necessary repair, in an apartment boasting mostly two-pronged outlets and a refrigerator plugged into an extension cord.
But alas, such is life. At least I can find comfort in the memory of baked stuffed lobster. But not 18th Century leeches. I'd rather just forget about them.
Happy Weekend!
~The Odd Broad xoxo
ps- I realize I made mention of fudge in my last post...no doubt because I was shoving it down my gullet as I typed. I think we all need more Snickers fudge in our lives, no?
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