The great white north was kind to us and we would be back, but you know Shefali’s motto is “keep it movin’.” So after leaving Montréal we headed back down into Canada’s pants to meet up with The Gang. We drove through Vermont, which was scenic and also New Hampshire, which was brief, and made our way steadily into Maine. Fun things about Maine:
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Moose signs almost immediately. According to the tourist placards, the Moose is North America’s largest land mammal. I could have sworn bison tend to be A) mammals and B) larger than moose, but maybe they’re not indigenous. Who the hell knows? I asked wikipedia and the tl;dr seems to be that they’re both big. Also, fun fact: unlike other large hooved mammals moose can kick in every direction, including sideways. In the Americas, though they don’t typically attack people, they are still responsible for more injuries to humans than any other wild mammal (worldwide they are second only to the hungry hungry hippo. true story.) Thus, the only safe way to approach a moose is to look it up on wikipedia. We tried like hell to find one but didn’t see any. We even came up with moose calls to attract them. Judge for yourself which one you like better. Another option would be to mask ourselves in the animal’s scent. We avoided this for obvious reasons.
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The lobster. Good goddamn. It’s true what they say – everything tastes better when it’s been boiled alive, violently ripped from its frame and slathered in drawn butter. The food in general was pretty good, but looking at my midsection you can tell most food is pretty good to me. Also, props to ‘Chelles for the taco cups, about which there was copious talk, and to which I still look forward the next time we all “wile out.”
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Honor pies. I don’t know who came up with this or had the brass balls to assume the majority of people who found cake by the side of the road would be honest, but goddamn. Those are some good mothergrabbing cookies. It’s just a little shack with pies, cookies, whoopie pies and a guest book, and instructions to pay in the box by the tree. I felt like I was leaving a ransom with tasty results. Also, it’s affordable – none of this bougie 6$ cupcake bullshit like in some trendy goddamn bake shop full of inked up reality tv wannabes. What can I say, I guess I’m a judgmental country boy at heart.
Xu’s mom’s friend offered up a house we could all stay at so we met up there for taco cups and jello smiles. It was even more awesome than it sounds. We saw wild turkeys just outside the backyard, hit a farmers market and did Sunday brunch family style (which is really the only way it should be served). It really made us want to own a house – and not just so I wouldn’t have to go far to eat. It was fun having everybody milling about, cooking together and talking trash. And yes, of course, cracking a few cold ones waiting for things to heat or cool. Ever since then whenever we stay in a hotel we’re glued to those tv shows about people who remake homes or find you a new one. I think Shefali’s starting to get domestically frustrated. I can tell because she’s always looking at homes on the internet, including right this very second. But she’s not reading this blog, so keep it on the dl that I’m running my mouf about it. And full disclosure – I’m no different. When I see an income suite or an open concept living area near a gourmet kitchen… Total homeboner. It was bittersweet when everyone had to go their separate ways, I guess because everyone else has to get on with their lives and brave their brutal 6 hour + drives back home, just to get to bed late yet still make it into work on time the next day. Meanwhile we get to go on aimlessly tumbling between adventures. Yeah, I know, poor me. But seriously, it’s like my dad always says – it doesn’t matter where you are as long as you have great people around you. We’ve been pretty fortunate in this respect, and especially so this weekend with The Gang. We made a quick stop in Portland, which seemed like it would be really happening if it wasn’t a windy Sunday evening. We hit the local brewery (Shipyard) for a surprisingly generous sampling of some really good beers and then got noodles by someone who allegedly used to cook for the Thai royal family. I found it believable. We finished that night visiting an old friend in Boston, but more on that later.
Vijay
[1] http://www.flickr.com/photos/97388931@N08/sets/72157637792824785/
One Comment
True totally stereotypically Canadian story:
When I was fairly young — four or five or six-ish — my cousin Rob (techncially, my dad’s cousin Rob) came up over a hill in rural Ontario and promptly hit a moose. He was in a coma for three months and the entire extended family had moose meat in the freezer for quite some time. Moose, for the record, is delicious. Anyway, Rob’s fine now and his first words out of the coma were, apparently, “who got the antlers?”