July 29, 2006: Newton & Cape Cod
When Janine and Benjamin heard that we hadn’t yet been to a beach on this trip, they quickly decided there was nothing for it but to spend the day on Cape Cod. They very kindly offered to drive so that we wouldn’t have to, which was a welcome respite. Yet it seemed that everyone else in New England had had the same notion. The road down to Plymouth wasn’t too bad, but beyond that point, approaching the Cape, we crept for over an hour through traffic as thick as Beantown humidity.
In his car, Benjamin and I entertained the boys and tried to keep Eliana from punching her elder brother. We also discussed the abysmal condition of the roadways, aggressive drivers (“shmucks,” Benjamin called them), as well as the lack of road signs. “If they can spend $15 billion on the Big Dig,” he griped, referring to the infamous Boston boondoggle, “why can’t they spend a few million dollars on signs?” Why indeed? “It’s a mentality. ‘If you’re not from around here, screw you.’ It’s very insular.”
The Big Dig began in 1985 with a cost estimate of only $2.5 billion. Controversy, mismanagement, shoddy work, engineering hurdles, and other factors caused the price tag to balloon a nightmarish sixfold, making it the most expensive single highway project in US history. It’s been much in the news of late: a ceiling section of one of its tunnels collapsed, killing a motorist, closing a major thoroughfare, and triggering an ongoing criminal investigation into substandard construction materials.
In Janine’s car, Debbie got caught up with her friend, talking about what they’ve been doing and what they’d like to be doing. Since she quit her job at the Environmental Defense Fund, Janine has been writing short stories with a view to writing a novel. She’s been taking a class on novel-writing and reading a lot to learn about novel structure and conventions.
We finally reached Orleans, in the “elbow” of the Cape, which is where the freeway ends and the Cape Cod National Seashore begins, a very long stretch of sand dunes, salt marshes, and scrubby forests that stretches to the north. A quiet place most of the year, it’s overrun with tourists in summer.
As Benjamin and Janine tell it, the teen and party scenes are most pronounced along the south coast, while families are drawn to towns like Orleans and the southern part of the Cape’s eastern coast. The farther north one travels, the older and wealthier the crowd becomes. At the northern tip of the cape, Provincetown is a magnet for gays and lesbians, many of whom arrive on the ferry from downtown Boston.
We spent the afternoon at Marconi Beach, a very pleasant strand in the middle of the National Seashore with a gentle breeze and a three-foot surf. Everyone had a great time.
We waded and swam and dug and built and snacked until about 6 p.m.
Each of the kids got to be buried in the sand at least once: theirs
and ours.
Even Debbie got into the act.
We had dinner and ice cream in Orleans and drove home much more easily and quickly than we had come. Cape Cod will be the most easterly point we reach on this trip.
In his car, Benjamin and I entertained the boys and tried to keep Eliana from punching her elder brother. We also discussed the abysmal condition of the roadways, aggressive drivers (“shmucks,” Benjamin called them), as well as the lack of road signs. “If they can spend $15 billion on the Big Dig,” he griped, referring to the infamous Boston boondoggle, “why can’t they spend a few million dollars on signs?” Why indeed? “It’s a mentality. ‘If you’re not from around here, screw you.’ It’s very insular.”
The Big Dig began in 1985 with a cost estimate of only $2.5 billion. Controversy, mismanagement, shoddy work, engineering hurdles, and other factors caused the price tag to balloon a nightmarish sixfold, making it the most expensive single highway project in US history. It’s been much in the news of late: a ceiling section of one of its tunnels collapsed, killing a motorist, closing a major thoroughfare, and triggering an ongoing criminal investigation into substandard construction materials.
In Janine’s car, Debbie got caught up with her friend, talking about what they’ve been doing and what they’d like to be doing. Since she quit her job at the Environmental Defense Fund, Janine has been writing short stories with a view to writing a novel. She’s been taking a class on novel-writing and reading a lot to learn about novel structure and conventions.
We finally reached Orleans, in the “elbow” of the Cape, which is where the freeway ends and the Cape Cod National Seashore begins, a very long stretch of sand dunes, salt marshes, and scrubby forests that stretches to the north. A quiet place most of the year, it’s overrun with tourists in summer.
As Benjamin and Janine tell it, the teen and party scenes are most pronounced along the south coast, while families are drawn to towns like Orleans and the southern part of the Cape’s eastern coast. The farther north one travels, the older and wealthier the crowd becomes. At the northern tip of the cape, Provincetown is a magnet for gays and lesbians, many of whom arrive on the ferry from downtown Boston.
We spent the afternoon at Marconi Beach, a very pleasant strand in the middle of the National Seashore with a gentle breeze and a three-foot surf. Everyone had a great time.
We waded and swam and dug and built and snacked until about 6 p.m.
Each of the kids got to be buried in the sand at least once: theirs
and ours.
Even Debbie got into the act.We had dinner and ice cream in Orleans and drove home much more easily and quickly than we had come. Cape Cod will be the most easterly point we reach on this trip.
posted by Tom & Debbie at
8:49 PM
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