The Phoenix Traveler

From Boston, Mass., to Bucksport, Maine. That was the destination of choice last week when I left Phoenix with my boyfriend for a cooler climate back East. With 100 degree temperatures still the norm where we live, it was the perfect time to leave the  desert. With the fall colors moving in, it was the perfect time to visit Coastal New England.

It rained while we were there. It was definitely cooler. I even had to don gloves and a scarf one night. And nothing could be better than the smell of chimney smoke. For me, that’s the first sign of fall. It means it’s time for soup. In New England, that means clam chowder. That creamy sauce with bits of potatoes, clam meat and onions. I ate it almost every day.

When in the Boston area, I recommend a stay in Cambridge. You can find a hotel, an inn or a B&B that’s much cheaper than in the city. And it costs just a few bucks to take the train into Boston a few minutes away. Plus, you’re right there where Harvard is, and it’s worth a walk-through just to see what this prestigious school is all about. Let me tell you, it’s pretty amazing architecturally. We must have walked in and out of at least five red brick or stone and iron gates. Huge, at least 10 feet tall! Very imposing. Made me want to immediately sign up for a class, though.

We walked a lot on this  trip. We walked around Harvard Square. We walked in the neighborhood near our hotel. We walked along the Freedom Trail–all the way across the Charles River to climb up and down the nearly 300 steps at the monument at Bunker Hill. We experienced history on many levels, and it was all so refreshing to get a taste of life as it was before the American Revolution. Such a difference from my home state, Arizona, which won’t even be celebrating its centennial until 2012. That’s still four years away!

Oh, and then there’s Maine–Coastal Maine. I don’t t hink there’s anything more lovely to see in this country than a highway that sweeps past so many seaports. The tall white steeples, the Victorian-era homes, the village streetscapes with their bookstores, lobster shacks and pastry shops ready to serve you with open hospitality, the ships in the harbor.

They may speak funny (Lobstas and Beeyas, says my souvenir t-shirt) but Mainers have to be just about the nicest folks you’ll ever meet. Every time my boyfriend and I looked lost–It happened several times–we were approached by a local who told us how to get to our destination. We never felt out of place, not even when all we had to wear was “urban safari” for the “business casual” dinner we attended. Okay, well, maybe we felt a bit odd about that, but we did follow orders and leave the blue jeans behind. No one said anything about all those pockets on our pants, nor made mention of our muddy Merrells.

Check in tomorrow, and I’ll give you specific travel recommendations.

(Photos taken by and used with permission from Jackie Dishner.)

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