Day 11: Like a Norman Rockwell

Thursday, October 15

At the B&B breakfast (unlike Airbnbs, real B&Bs ascribe real meaning to that second 'B'), we sat with Allen and Melinda, a couple celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. They were Christian missionaries who had served several years in Hungary. Prior to that, Allen had been the Headmaster at a Christian private school. We discussed each others' itineraries, so we of course mentioned we were going to Israel. They were very supportive of Israel and distressed by the Obama administration's obvious lack of support for Israel. 

A revolting place

Following breakfast, we checked out and headed north on Highway 7 into Massachusetts, stopping in the town of Great Barrington, site of the first open revolt against the British in 1774, when in defiance of the Intolerable Act, 1500 men filled the courthouse, preventing it from conducting business. 

The town had a distinctive historic look to it. I got a cappuccino from a place called Fuel, that might have been the best cappuccino I've ever had. It wasn't rich and creamy like my usual favorites, but the flavor of the espresso was excellent and came through loud and clear, and this despite it being decaf!

A newly paved road in an otherwise historic looking Great Barrington

A side street in Great Barrington

David finds a friend at Chesterwood

Next we drove up to Stockbridge and Chesterwood, the home of Daniel Chester French, the sculptor responsible for the statue of Abraham Lincoln seated in the Lincoln Memorial. There was no one there other than workmen who were renovating the building, so we didn't even go in, but we got out of the car so David could play with a very friendly black and white kitty. We then retraced our steps a mile or two to our real destination, the Norman Rockwell Museum. I have always enjoyed his illustrations (even Rockwell did not consider it fine art), but I learned a few things that greatly added to my appreciation for his work. First, he had a long and complicated process for producing each painting. He used real people to pose, often using family members and neighbors and often reusing the same person for multiple characters in the same painting. He dressed them up in costumes, many of which he owned and kept on hand for the purpose. He would have photos taken of the models posing. From the photos he did charcoal drawings and color studies, eventually deciding on what the total scene would look like and the color scheme. That's when he would begin the actual painting. He had been a student of art from an early age and used color to draw the eye to key parts (usually red) or to form geometric patterns (usually triangles), techniques used by the masters. 

Almost like a Normal Rockwell painting!

The second thing I learned (well, I think I always knew this intuitively) is that his goal was to tell a story in pictures. The paintings always have a large amount of detail, not all of which were extraneous. He also tried to be as accurate as possible, drawing environments from photos of real places and drawing facial expressions as they actually appeared on his models, though often produced only after prompting and coaching from Rockwell himself. A docent told us that occasionally someone will come into the museum who had posed for one painting or another. Finally, I learned that the idyllic scenes that he depicted were idealized representations of the times, not an accurate portrayal, because he believed people preferred the former. This was a bit of a revelation to me! Since most of his work depicted eras before I was born or at least too young to remember, I always thought of those scenes as being the quintessential representation of those times. On the one hand I was disappointed that life was not as wonderful in the 50's as he depicted. On the other hand, it made me feel better to know I hadn't missed some golden era of American history. And he was right! I did prefer the idealized version of life. I wonder how he would have depicted the 2010's? 

Mr. Rockwell's studio
(Photo by Sandra)

This beats working!

Hanging out on the Rockwell Museum grounds

After the museum, we drove back to the main street of Stockbridge and had lunch at Once Upon a Table. The food was great and the proprietors entertaining. 

Monument on Main St., Stockbridge, MA
(Photo by Sandra)

Next we headed to Lenox and went to The Mount, the restored home of author Edith Wharton (The Age of Innocence, Ethan Frome, and many others). I found it all a bit pretentious, but maybe it's just because I was not familiar with the author. 

The Mount, as viewed from the garden

Edith Wharton's first big hit was entitled, The Decoration of Houses. According to our tour guide, this book created interior decorating as a profession. One of Wharton's tenets was that walls should be decorated with built-in bookcases and the books on the shelves selected for the aesthetics of their bindings. I thought of the many stand-alone bookcases in our home and the jumble of books that adorn them, organized as they are by subject rather than size and color.

The book-adorned walls of the library at The Mount
(Photo by Sandra)

The gardeners at The Mount do a bit more than mow, blow and go
(Photo by Sandra)

After Lenox, we continued north on Highway 7 toward Pittsfield. On the way, we drove by Tanglewood, a famous music venue, but it was closed.

Performing at Tanglewood, though without a piano
(Photo: Sandra)

The guide book said there was nothing worth stopping for in Pittsfield, but we found this to be quite untrue. The first remarkable thing was that we passed at least 3 synagogues, including the Chabad of the Berkshires. Next, we noticed some sort of street fair going on so decided to stop a check it out. It turned out to be a monthly street fair that occurs through the summer and fall. There was live music, food vendors and a breast cancer march. There wasn't really that much to get excited about, but it was crowded and festive and many people were dressed for Halloween. 

Pittsfield street fair at dusk

Big and small puppets in Pittsfield

It was getting cold (though most of the locals were not wearing coats) so we went to dinner at the one restaurant the guide book said was worth eating at in Pittsfield. It was called Elizabeth's, a small place in the industrial end of town. We were asked if we had reservations. When we said we didn't, instead of being turned away, we were offered a table downstairs by the kitchen rather than upstairs in the dining room. This turned out not to be a bad thing, as the dining room was nothing special and the kitchen area added character to the experience (ours was not the only table in the kitchen). The coolest part was that they did not accept credit cards, but did accept IOUs if you didn't have enough cash, which we didn't. While the menu was vegetarian, the specials included fish and chicken options. Entrees came with what they billed as not-to-be-missed freshly baked bread and a special salad worth writing home about. In the end the food was good but not great and certainly didn't live up to the hype, but it was a fun experience, especially the IOU part (which I fulfilled by pulling out my phone and immediately dispatching a check to be mailed from my bank - we live in amazing times!). Following dinner, we headed to Williamstown and checked into our Motel, which was your basic old fashioned motel room. 

Now here is a strange thing. The owner and our host at the first place we stayed was named Heidi. The owner and our host at the second place we stayed was named Heidi. I thought that was a bit odd, as Heidi is not a very popular name in California and I figured it was the same in the East. When we got to this motel, the third place in a row, there was an envelope on the dresser soliciting tips for housekeeping. The name of the housekeeper was written on the envelope: Heidi! WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!

It behooves me to mention that all throughout our driving over the past few days, we had encountered an ever-increasing amount of gasp-evoking fall colors. Sometimes it is an individual tree with such amazing colors that you must stop what you are doing to just gaze at it for a minute, bringing true meaning to the expression "eye candy." Other times it is a clump of trees in beautiful chromatic harmony. And sometimes it is an entire hillside completely covered in unnatural color (well, at least unnatural to the eyes of a California boy). No matter how often we encounter these scenes, each occurrence is like seeing it for the first time. It is utterly amazing.

Day 12: Falls and Flowers

Friday, October 16

It rained throughout the night and in the morning it was still raining, though it stopped by the time we were ready to roll out of the motel. We had breakfast at a small place called Renee's, then sought some good coffee at Tunnel City Coffee. It was a large, nice coffee house in a cool part of town and it was pretty busy, but the coffee and cappuccino were nothing special. 

Some unfriendly residents along the Mohawk Trail

We continued on State Road 2 through North Adams until it eventually became the Mohawk Trail, a scenic byway that follows the Deerfield River. This road climbs over the local mountain up to just over 2000 feet. At one point there was a great view looking down over a valley and the hills behind it, every bit of it covered in fall-colored trees. The view was breathtaking. We stopped a few times during the drive to get out of the car and get a better view of the gorgeous colors. Of course we were taking many pictures, but there is no way we could adequately capture what we were seeing with our eyes. At one stop along the Deerfield River, it smelled like pumpkin pie in the air. While it may have been someone baking, we were not very close to any buildings and it made me wonder if it wasn't just the natural smell of the autumn air in that beautiful place. 

The high point of the Mohawk Trail
(Photo: Sandra)

Looking along the flower bridge

The road took us into the town of Shelburne Falls, MA along the Deerfield River. This town is famous for an old trolley bridge across the river that is now kept as a pedestrian bridge and elevated flower garden, the Flower Bridge. The flowers growing on this bridge were unusual and beautiful, particularly for mid October. There is also a small hydroelectric dam on the river, which itself was interesting, but at the bottom where the water lets out, there are "glacial potholes," round holes of various sizes, formed when boulders got spun around by glacial movement, carving out a round hole. One of them is supposed to be 40 feet in diameter, though we didn't see one that large. After walking around the town for quite a while, we drove out. 

Dam, those glacial potholes!

Viewing the Flower Bridge from the cars-and-trucks bridge next door

Even the cars-and-trucks bridge was cool
(Photo by Sandra)

A denizen of the flower bridge (Photo by David)

The view up the Deerfield River from the Flower Bridge

The local library with non-local kid

We missed the Mohawk Trail exit out of town and ended up on some backroad that was also quite beautiful. The road eventually became Highway 116 through a tiny town called Conway. Here was a beautiful library building, the Field Memorial Library, built about 1865. It looked like a miniature state capital building. The library was closed, but peeking in the window we could see it was beautiful inside. 

What are they using for fertilizer around here?!

We eventually came to Deerfield, which includes the Historic Deerfield district, an area of colonial era buildings that have been restored and may be walked through. It is a large area and we didn't have time to stop and go through any buildings as we needed to get to Northampton in time for Shabbat. We got into Northampton, MA and checked into our hotel, the Autumn Inn. It was a 2-star hotel, but the room (a suite) was nice and comfortable. Our friends Cheryl and Max were in Northampton visiting their daughter Samantha, who goes to Smith College. We were supposed to meet up with them during our stay, but they declined once they heard we had been sick. 

We had to go out and get food for Shabbat. David didn't want to go, so we left him in the room while Sandra and I went out to Trader Joe's. The TJs turned out to be in the next town (Hadley). Traffic was terrible and we burned too much time getting there. Sandra was not feeling well again, so she waited in the car while I finished the shopping. The TJs did not carry wine, so we needed to make another stop at a Whole Foods to get wine for kiddush. We had planned to eat dinner before Shabbat came in and then just do kiddush and challah, but we were out of time to get David and go out again, so we picked up some burritos and brought then back to the room. When Sandra went to light Shabbat candles, she realized she hadn't brought matches and the hotel didn't have any either. Our suite had a stove, but it was electric. I finally solved the problem by tearing a strip of paper and rolling it into a small tube, then holding it to the electric burner on the stove until it caught fire so Sandra could use it as a match. 

Day 13: A Smithy Sabbath

Saturday, October 17

We slept in late, missing breakfast (which was one of the reasons for picking this hotel), but we had plenty of food from Trader Joe's, so we did not go hungry. It was quite cold outside, so we bundled up, except for David, who insisted on wearing his usual uniform of shorts, a T-shirt and a hoodie, and headed out to walk around town. As Smith College was across the street, we went on campus to check it out. Sandra wanted to see their conservatory. The campus was very beautiful. The conservatory was too warm for us, since we were so heavily dressed (except for David). We eventually came across the public library, which has a wing dedicated as the Calvin Coolidge Presidential Library, but it was closed, and once again we were too warmly clad to stay indoors. 

We walked into the main part of town, which felt a lot like Berkeley to us. They have an old rail right-of-way that is now a walking and bike path. We started to walk it, and I would have liked to have followed it to the river, but Sandra and I were feeling exhausted - a lingering symptom of our illness - so we headed back to the hotel, had a bit more to eat, then napped until Shabbat was over.

For dinner, we went to a vegetarian restaurant called Bella. It was small and packed. A sign on the door said it was, and I kid you not, a "fragrance free environment." The sign went on to say that any fragrance (which we assumed meant perfume, but maybe they were referring to body odor?) would make the cook sick. I didn't see it, but Sandra told me later that another sign said that socks with fragrance were not permitted (maybe the body odor theory was pretty close). Ironically, the restaurant itself did not have a great smell and we quickly decided it was too weird and pretentious for us, so we left. We went instead to another place known for its vegetarian fare, called Paul and Elizabeth's. It had nice ambiance and staff. The food was interesting, but not fabulous. 

Day 14: The Adventures of Samuel Clemens

Sunday, October 18

It was quite cold in the morning, with ice on the windows of the cars and roofs. Although the Autumn Inn provided breakfast, it wasn't very exciting and we instead chose to eat some of our copious amounts of leftover Shabbat food for breakfast. We packed up the car and headed out. Immediately a dash light came on with one of those cryptic international symbols for impending disaster that are completely incomprehensible. What's wrong with just having an actual word, like "Oil" or "Temp" or "Brakes." Fearing the car would decide to stop functioning if I ignored the light, we pulled over to look up what the light meant. Of course, there was no user manual in the glove box. Thank goodness this is the 21st century when you can just pull the tiny computer out of your pocket and connect to the vast database of all human knowledge on the planet. It didn't take long to pull up the car's user manual on my phone (identifying which model year we were driving slowed me down for half a minute) to discover that the light was for low tire pressure. I figured it was because of the cold and that it would go away after we had driven for a while (PV=nRT!). 

On the way out of Northampton we stopped for coffee at Northampton Coffee, which looked to be an ideal college-town coffee place. The coffee turned out to be poor, but the place was owned by the same people that have a bakery called Tart, at which Sandra had hoped to eat. The coffee place had some of Tart's baked goods, and those were indeed quite good.

We headed south on Highway 91 towards Hartford CT. It was many miles at freeway speed before the low tire pressure light finally went out. Hartford was a bit of a ghetto, reminiscent of Newark. Our first destination for the day was the home of Samuel Clemens, aka, Mark Twain. They had a nice museum and the house tour was excellently presented by a young guy who did a great job emulating Mark Twain's always-fresh and entertaining word usage to tell the story of the Clemenses life in that house for 17 years. 

One of these men is NOT made out of Lego!

The house that Sam built

It was in that house that Twain wrote his best works, including The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I learned that at this point in Sam Clemens's life, his money came from his wife, who was the daughter of a wealthy and prominent New York family. The house had been built by the Clemenses in an upscale neighborhood and featured expensive stenciling on all the walls and ceilings. It also had a set of "speaking tubes" that ran from the bedrooms to the servants' quarters for communication purposes. The house has been restored to what it is believed to have looked like when the Clemenses lived there, based on photographs, journal entries and stripping down the subsequent wall coverings to get to the original paint and stencils. (After the Clemenses sold it, the house had been owned by a couple of different families, then became a boarding house and finally broken up into separate apartments before finally being restored.) Despite his own success at writing, Mark Twain lost all his (and his wife's) money investing in a new revolutionary typesetting machine, which failed to be successful. Completely broke, they left for Europe, because going on a European vacation is the first thing I think of when I'm completely broke! Turns out that when you're Mark Twain, you can make money in Europe doing speaking tours, which is what he did, eventually returning to the United States when he had earned enough money to pay off his debts.

We left Hartford, continuing South on Highway 91, then turning off on highway 9 south, which was billed as a scenic route (and indeed it was), running along the Connecticut River, through the Connecticut River Valley. Our next stop was the town of Essex to ride a steam train. First we went into the town to find a quick bite. There wasn't much there (at least that we had time to sample before our train was to depart), so we again had some leftover Shabbat food, which was having no trouble staying cold in the back of the car. Essex was tiny, but extremely charming. Back at the train depot, we boarded a set of Pullman coaches built in the 1920s and pulled by a 2-8-2 coal burning steam locomotive also built in the 1920s. We enjoyed the ride. The views of the river were beautiful and included a good view of the Gillette Castle across the river. Afterward we looked around at some displays in the depot, but it was extremely cold - so much so, that even David had to admit (though in not so many words) that his outfit of shorts and hoodie was not adequate. 

Merrily we roll along
(Photo by Sandra)

A young train lover (photo by an old train lover)

Let's heat this beach cottage up!

The third bedroom - we could have had guests!

Following the train trip, we continued driving south along Highway 153, a beautiful back road, to the small town of Westbrook where we were to spend the night. For this night, we were staying in another Airbnb, but this one was done right! It was an adorable, clean beach cottage a couple hundred feet from the beach at Long Island Sound. A basket of treats awaited us on the kitchen table (yes, there was actually a table in this place!) and the place was not full of someone else's stuff. The closets were empty except for things a guest might need, like extra toilet paper and a porta-crib. We unloaded our stuff and went for a walk down to the beach. It was a small beach with houses right up to the sand, but it was notable for the beautiful view across the water and the abundance of small sea shells washed up on the sand. For dinner, we went to Alforno Restaurant, an Italian place where we had the best meal yet since beginning our tour of New England.

A silent picture of the sound

Day 15: Mystic and the Deep

Monday, October 19 (Week 3)

We got up, packed and left the beautiful beach cottage in Chapman Beach and stopped at a small place for breakfast, called the Turtle Cafe. Every customer there except us was a local, most of whom were greeted by name when they walked in the door. It felt like being part of a sitcom. The menu was limited and the food wasn't great, so we left disappointed, though by now our expectations for eating out were pretty low. 


We hit the road going north on Highway 95 on our way to the Mystic Seaport marine museum, but on the way saw signs for the USS Nautilus, the first nuclear submarine, and the first watercraft of any type to traverse the North Pole, which the Nautilus did submerged underneath the polar ice cap. We decided to make an impromptu visit. 

This baby crossed the North Pole under the ice!

(Photo by Sandra)

The Nautilus is a medium-sized submarine
(Photo by Sandra)

Hull sizes of the Navy's largest and smallest submarines
(Photo by Sandra)

There was a nice little museum, staffed mostly by active duty navy men (yes, men - there were no navy women about) . It showed the history of submarines in the U.S., as well as the weapons they carried, including torpedoes and missiles. The transit of the North Pole had been an important strategic effort to establish American military superiority after Russia's successful Sputnik launch. The fact that magnetic compasses are useless at the magnetic poles, the fact that they were traversing uncharted territory and the fact that they didn't know if the seafloor was deep enough under the polar ice to allow the submarine to fit, all made the trip extremely risky. It wasn't even feasible for a submarine to make this journey until this nuclear model was built. Up until then, submarines had been diesel powered, which means they need air (they run the diesel motor near the surface to charge up some batteries, then operate off the batteries using electric motors while submerged; like a whale, they must come to the surface eventually to recharge their batteries, while nuclear submarines do not).

The paper in front of him says:
"Note to self: be very still"
(Photo by Sandra)

There was a nice walkthrough of the submarine itself that included an audio tour. They had manikins, dressed in uniform and positioned to illustrate different roles on the boat. I love all the military grade analog electronic equipment you see on vintage warships. My career has been spent building electronic digital-controlled machines (i.e., computers). I understand the underlying technology and how it is designed and created. But when I see old analog stuff, I am always so impressed by it. Maybe it's just because I'm less familiar with that technology, but I always find it immensely clever - I remind myself of Arthur Weasley and his fascination with the clever mechanical devices that muggles create to overcome the fact that they do not have magic at their disposal. An unexpected highlight was a 7 1/2 inch reel-to-reel tape recorder in the officer's dining room, which looked to be placed for listening to music for entertainment. It was paired with a relatively inexpensive Japanese receiver that looked like one I would have considered purchasing at Federated Electronics in West L.A. when I was 14 and shopping for my first stereo (I got a Marantz; it still works). 

Officers' dining room - tonight we'll be serving plastic chops and wax fruit
(Photo by Sandra)

Plenty of room to cook for large dinner parties

Hopefully the door wasn't always clear lucite!

Only officers get these spacious quarters
(Photo by Sandra)

After a couple hours at the Nautilus, we drove over towards Mystic Seaport. By now we were hungry, so we went to the small town of Stonington to eat. This town would have been quaint and charming, except that it was virtually empty of people. We went to a supposed Mexican place called Milagro's, though the flavors did not seem at all Mexican. And while we didn't dislike the food, it was strange enough that we once again went away somewhat disappointed. We both wanted coffee, having not dared try the standard-issue Curtis fare at Turtle Cafe. There was a promising looking place called Yellow House across the street, but as soon as we walked in, I could tell from the smell not to bother ordering anything. Sandra got coffee and threw it out after 2 sips. We drove to the end of the town, which ends on the Long Island Sound with a view over the water, then turned around and finally went to Mystic Seaport. 

Mystic Seaport is a large piece of property on the water where they restore, keep, maintain and sail vintage wooden ships. They have also set up a small shipyard town, much in the style of Williamsburg. We didn't have time to see everything, so we caught the highlights. There was a sailing ship used for fishing. The boat was essentially a dormitory and storage facility. Smaller boats on deck were hoisted overboard and the actual fishing was done from them. The men got 5 hours of sleep a night, if lucky. Another large sailing ship was used for whaling. Again, smaller boats did the actual hunting, with the larger boat serving as a dorm and blubber rendering factory. There was a building called a "rope walk" where rope is made. Hemp is twisted into yarn by one skilled in the art as he walks backward the length of the long building (thus the name "rope walk"). The yarns are wound on bobbins, which are then threaded 40 at a time through a machine that twists then into strands. The strands are then twisted together (in the opposite direction from the first twist) to form rope. There was a sailmaking shop, a rigging shop, a figurehead museum, several old boats of various sizes that were being restored, and a lighthouse. We stayed until closing and were pretty tired by then. 

A typical museum piece at Mystic Seaport
(Photo by Sandra)

Bobbins of yarn get twisted into strands
(Photo by Sandra)

Strands get twisted into rope
(Photo: Sandra)

The final product: "rope"
(Photo by Sandra)

We continued north on Highway 95 from Connecticut to Rhode Island to get some dinner in Providence where Sandra's mother had been born. We made our way to the Italian district for Italian food. David and I liked it, but Sandra was disappointed. After dinner, we drove another hour, back into Massachusetts, to check into an Airbnb in Duxbury. This one was even better than the beach cottage. It was a guest house on the property behind the owner's house. It had a loft for David to sleep in and a ping pong table in the basement where I taught David how to keep score and showed him my fanciest spins and slams. It was also laundry time again and the washer was down there too. The basement was accessed through a storm door in the backyard, like Auntie Em's in the Wizard of Oz, so it fell on me to do the laundry again. 

Duxbury living room
(I know it's blurry, but it's all I've got)

Duxbury kitchen

Day 16: Rockin' Out

Tuesday, October 20

After a late start, we headed to Plymouth. The first stop was breakfast at The Blue Blinds, which turned out to be run by "The Twelve Tribes," a Jews for Yashua (they use Jesus's Hebrew name) sect, or as some believe, cult. The food was good and despite the cappuccino being served in too large a cup, very tasty with the milk scalded the way I like it. In case you've not yet noticed a pattern, I should point out that I take my coffee and cappuccino seriously. Sandra joins me in this obsession (though she prefers lattes, and lately, Americanos), which we have shared since our Berkeley days, even before we started dating, when we were just friends. But I digress...

Still my favorite person to drink coffee with after 35 years

After breakfast, we drove around town a bit (which took only a minute or two) and then headed out to the Plimoth Plantation, a living history museum about the Pilgrims and the Plymouth settlement. There were basically two parts, the Wampanoag Native American village and the Pilgrim settlement. In each, there were actors in costume role playing as if it were the early 17th century. Those role playing in the Wampanoag village were actual Native Americans. It was hard to get most of them to talk, not because they didn't speak English, but because they didn't do their job very well. I got the feeling that they had the job only for the paycheck, not because they cared about educating anyone about their ancestors' way of life. On the positive side, we got to see them making a canoe by burning out a tree log and there were some homes built in the traditional manner that we could go into. 

Note the tiny Native American standing on my left shoulder
(Photo by Sandra)

Native American dwelling

The Plimoth settlement, as viewed from its fortress

Things were quite different in the settlement. This area was staffed by people who do living history for a living and love it. They did not break character and spoke in the accent and verbiage of the day. They were enthusiastic, interactive and could talk on and on without prompting. I learned more about the Native American homes from these people than I did from the Native Americans!

In the fortress. These babies can hit boats in the harbor!
(Photo by Sandra)

Illegal trading in progress

Of the 102 Pilgrims (non-sailors coming to the new world for religious freedom), half died that first winter (or on the boat). Those that remained knew only farming and the only thing that would grow well was the flint corn that the Native Americans showed them how to plant. They fertilized with herrings, but wheat and other grains from home would not grow from herrings. Flint corn is high in starch, unlike our modern sweet corn, which is high in sugar and water, so it could be stored dry. Since all they knew was farming, they were dependent on ships to supply furniture, clothing, shoes, tools and other supplies from England. And though they came for religious freedom, they were as restrictive in what religion could be practiced (only their own form of Puritanism) as the England they had worked so hard to escape. The settlers were not permitted to engage in free enterprise or trade directly with the Native Americans. Everything was done under the Governance of William Bradford. The homes looked fairly sturdy with thick mortar walls, wood siding and thatched roofs (reeds dried and tightly bundled that expand when wet to fill the gaps and keep out the rain), but these structures were expected to last only 20 years. 

No cats to play with, so David chases down the next best thing

A flower on the Mayflower

After the plantation, we went down to the water's edge and toured a reproduction of the Mayflower, which is part of the same museum and also staffed by living history actors. There were fewer actors here (it's a small boat), but they were excellent. We met the second mate, who along with the first mate, ran the ship. He attained that position because he had learned math as a child; common sailors were generally illiterate and learned sailing on the job. The ship was designed for cargo and the 102 Pilgrims were essentially just that, which meant they made the 66 day voyage below decks, where there is no light, no fresh air and the rank odor of vomit, as everyone was seasick the whole trip. They could not even participate in the sailing of the ship as they had no skills for sailing. When they finally arrived in Plymouth, most were so sick that only about 7 could actually go ashore initially. 

A two-masted ship

Where the Pilgrims were packed in for the entire 2-month trip
(Photo by Sandra)

A true rock star
(Photo: Sandra)

After the boat, we saw Plymouth Rock, an icon of the founding of America. However it seems that there is no record of the rock having actually been of any significance to the Pilgrims. It had been cut in half, moved, put back and had so many pieces cut out of it that what exists today is a small remnant of the original rock. Nevertheless, it is housed in an elegant structure and stamped with the year 1620, the year of the landing. Next we walked Leydon street, which was the original settlement location (that Plimoth Plantation a few miles down the road models), and walked around the town a bit before getting some dinner. Dinner was at Anna's Harborside Grille because they had Greek food, or as Sandra accidentally punned, grease food. At dinner, we decided to see The Martian. The movie wasn't to start for an hour and a half, so we went back to the Airbnb for a bit, then back out to the movie, which we enjoyed very much. 

Pilgrims at the rock

Massasoit, who helped the Pilgrims, so they covered him
in bronze and bolted him to this rock
(Photo by Sandra)