Today we are journeying to Provincetown – that special sea-surrounded tip of the Cape that has provided such a refuge for so many artists, fishermen, and lost folk. I haven’t been there in a few years, and I’ve missed it. This is actually the first time that Andy and I will be in the town together. As a wise animal once remarked, “It’s so much friendlier with two.”
For a certain stretch, I was going down once a summer, usually just one night (after a night in Boston). I’d depart at the crack of dawn, before the traffic, but also before the town was awake. It would be hours before some places even opened, so I’d park and walk around in the early morning light, unbothered by the throngs that would soon populate Commercial Street. That is my favorite hour, before the mayhem really begins. There’s something to be said for crowds and excitement and vacationing stupidity, but I prefer silence and solitude when you’re surrounded with so much natural beauty.
This time around we have a few lose plans – a whale watch (Andy’s done one, but I never have), perhaps a beach visit (if I can muster the energy for that journey of a hike), and a dinner at Mews (another first for me). The madness of Carnival is over, but the summer is still here…
