Austin360 blogs > Out & About > Archives > 2011 > August > 09 > Entry
Maine Respite
Forgive me, dear readers, for scribbling a few words about socializing in Maine, far from the Inferno that is Austin in August.
Its 18th-, 19th- and early 20th-century structures remain pretty much intact — dark and imposing near the waterfront, light and summery on the nearby capes and islands.
It would be easy to dismiss its tourist-trodden Old Port, but we also explored the dense districts on the bluffs above and the leafy neighborhoods beyond.
We visited bookstores — including the culinary mecca Rabelais — and ate innovative cuisine at Boda (Thai) and the Salt Exchange (contemporary American). Two diners — one popular (Becky’s) and one hidden (Q Street) — and a neighborhood gay bar (Blackstones) kept us cheery.
Many of the locals looked as if they got lost on their way to Portland, Ore., which is not a bad thing.
We also whiled away seven days in a cabin at Black Pond. This small body of water lies northwest of Augusta, Me. in the Belgrade Lakes district.
One half mile long, 100 yards wide and 37 feet at its deepest, the cool lake, the color of weak tea, invited daily swimming and boating, as well as nonproductive fishing.
We had Black Pond — the Platonic Ideal of a forest retreat, snug among firs, birches and maples — to ourselves.
We nine measure our friendships in decades, yet, for the first time in recollection, little tension developed as we read, talked, cooked, ate, drank, played cards or watched movies.
The hush around us helped. The regional public radio news report led with three items: A suspicious vehicle did not explode; the blueberry crop required more sun; and a river channel usually dredged during the winter was deepened in the summer.
Does New England drain all irony from one’s system?
I didn’t blink at three excursions: Santa’s Village in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, the Maine Lobster Festival in Rockland, Me., and the International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland.
The first is 100-percent kitsch: A midcentury Christmas-themed park for the youngest set, enjoyed by a couple of our fellow travelers eons ago. And yet, there I was, along with other adults, racing to have my attendance card punched by inanimate elves in order to receive a Elfabet University degree.
Stray thought: How come Santa’s Village achieved urban rail before Austin?
The Lobster Festival differs little from other American country fairs, with the exception of fresh lobster dinners starting at $14, and the crowning of the 2011 Sea Goddess.
Although gentrifying, Rockland is still blue collar: The pageant contestants talked of moving from the lobster and berry industries into better-paying lines like nursing and dental hygiene.
Cyptozoology is the study of “hidden animals,” like Bigfoot.
Portland’s tiny museum, stuffed behind a used bookstore, is the life’s work of Loren Colemen, an expert on oddities. The exuberant, white-bearded man was perhaps the most extroverted Mainer we met.
We perused his curiosities without skeptical comment.
Photos by Joe Starr
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