Getting to The Lobster Pot

Seven AM came far to early sunday morning as we'd gone to bed only four hours prior. I hauled Tay and Saori out of bed and we made preparations to strike out for the car rental facility for our journey to the Cape.

There are several ways to get to Cape Cod, and renting a car is by far the most flexible and least expensive. We walked to the T, stopping for a Starbucks run for my two night owls, as I was hoping that they would be awake enough to help me figure out the rental, if not up to driving capacity.

Instead of taking the T to the airport stop and taking the airport shuttle to the airport and then the courtsey shuttle to Enterprise, I decided to save some time by simply walking there from the nearest T stop, Maverick. About a fifteen minute walk through an area that would be uncomfortable late at night. Tay was concerned about the distance however, since he commented that when I say "a twenty minute walk" I mean 45, and if I say "a long walk", to bring a sleeping bag and a tent.

We made it to enterprise fine, although we ran into difficulty with payment. Saori and I, who didn't have our credit cards, couldn't pay with debit. Tay, who did, could pay, but the price jumped $30 because he was under $25. However, you can pay with a debit card if you have an outbound flight booked. So we called up Saori's flight reservation and used that. They agent was really nice and sympathetic and got us all the discounts he good and upgraded our rental, so we drove out of the lot in a new Nissan Altima.

Not horribly confusing getting out of the airport, although the weather was misty and rainy on our drive. Rolling hills, forest, grass, gray skies. We drove for about an hour before hitting the beginnings of Cape Cod. I forget how small these East Coast states are- an hour of driving from the airport in Phoenix gets you to another part of...Phoenix.

It was kind of gray and nasty weather still when we got to the upper cape near Hyannis, and we were getting hungry so Tay found us a place to eat- Fran and Nan's kitchen, a country diner kind of place with old ladies bussing tables, where the specials are up on the chalkboard and the coffee comes served in mugs which are more fortresses than tablewear- massive walls scarred with age and scratches. We got an epic breakfast of french toast, sausages, eggs, bacon, and because Tay was worried he might still be able to walk afterwards- a side order of country fried potatoes. Good stuff. It was much better idea than waiting around to get into the Keltic Kitchen down the street, which apparently serves Irish food and had the longest wait to get in for sunday breakfast at 10 am than any restaurant I've seen in Boston.

Looking at our map, we realized that Edward Gorey's house was in the same town, which had been converted to a small museum after his death. Saori was encouraged to go by her coworker who kept a small summer house out here, and with the weather as it was still slightly drizzling, we decided to check it out. Saori and I are both fans of his illustration work, so it was cool to see where he lived and see his original artwork. $3 for students. Lots of really interesting artwork, collections of jewellery. He wore huge rings and giant pendants, mostly from India, Mexico, and Tibet, and one can see the influence on his work. The house did play up the cheese factor a bit (as can be expected) with various dolls through the house suggesting the ends of the various children of his work The Gashleycrumb Tinies. We probably spent an hour and a half going through the house.

By the time we left, the sun was beginning to come out and so we decided to try one of the beaches. We drove up to Marconi beach, scrapped together all of our hard currency and barely squeaked by the national park entry, paying the last of the $15 with two dimes and a nickel.

We drove in less than a mile, and parked in a large parking lot surrounded by the low scrubby vegitation and sand dunes with the small trees in the distance. A short walk led to a changing room building, then a boardwalk to the edge of a cliff formed by the dunes. From the height of the top of the boardwalk stairs down to the beach, we commanded an amazing view of the shoreline and surrounding area. The National Seashore is like no other beach I've seen. No surrounding development, just the mountainous sand dunes, and the wide beach stretching to the horizon in either direction. It feels like an incredible edge, and the guarded section of the beach is just a marked segment. It felt like another planet.

The water was cold, 60 degrees, but the sun was coming out and the weather warmed up in the high 70s, so it was lovely to be out there. Unfortunately, the water was choked with red seaweed, but the surf was incredible, massive, pounding waves coming in from the north Atlantic. We spread a towel and dropped our stuff, and ran out into the waves. The water was bracing and reviving.

We spent a few hours out there, tanning, lounging, bodysurfing, and floating, before heading in. We wanted to see Provincetown, and the beaches nearby. P-town was was the first place the Pilgrims touched the new world when they landed. Ironically, as Purityrannical as the pilgrims were (they hung a quaker woman in Boston), P-town gained a huge gay population. We stopped for an hour at a beach which faced inward into the bay, and the water was much more tranquil, vividly clear, and much warmer. It was past six o clock, so the lifeguards weren't on duty, so we had the beach to ourselves and Saori and I mostly waded, waist-deep, while Tay worked on his sunburn.

Driving in Ptown is about the least fun thing I did all day, besides considering canceling the whole thing from being too expensive and difficult to rent the car. We found ourselves totally in the middle of the major pedestrian street, commercial street, which ran through the town. We were finally able to find parking and happened to spot our intended restaurant as I was muttering and cursing and trying to thread my way through the crowds of tourists and locals beneath the strung rainbow banners everwhere.

We finally did find parking, and walked over. Ptown is really a charming small seaside town, with a huge fish pier filled with boats, and the small streets filled with bars, clubs, bed and breakfasts, tourist shops, two dueling tee shirt stores across the street from each other fighting for advertising over the cheapest tee, New Age stores, leather fetish boutiques, etc.

Our goal was The Lobster Pot, which was one of the most highly ranked restaurants on the cape. When I saw the front, I first mistook it for a diner. Incredibly narrow at the point it meets Commerce St, it had neon lights, a visible kitchen through the open door, white wood siding. One passes through the narrow corridr beside the open kitchen filled with cooks and either up the stairs or downstairs. Upstairs, the stair opens to reveal an upscale bar/dining area with three open sides of glass, looking out over the harbor and the fisherman's piers. The dining area is much nicer, representing the true upscale restaurant it actually is.