I’ve wanted to get back in to writing for a while now. I used to write nigh-on incessantly, but it fell by the wayside when life got hectic (as things tend to do) and it’s taken me seemingly forever to pick it back up again. Then I had a mid-flight epiphany as to a blog name. I figured that, as of May 1st, I’d set myself a challenge of writing three times per week for a month, just to see if I could do it.
I’m not aiming for insightful, or mind-blowing, or world-changing on this blog, I’m just aiming to actually get back in to a writing habit, and anything else is just frosting on the cake. If you’re willing to join me on this, that’s awesome. Hopefully it will be a delicious cake.
I’ve just returned from Maine, as of yesterday morning, and I’m so jetlagged that I imagine this is what it feels like to be stoned out of one’s mind. The jetlag and the 26+ hours of travel were well worth it, however, as I got to spend nine days with my boyfriend, whom I hadn’t seen since October 2012. This was only my second trip to Maine, having previously scheduled our rendezvous in various other locales, perhaps in some kind of unintentional relationship vetting process before undergoing the rigorous assessment that is meeting for the first time one’s significant other’s family, or parts thereof.
Maine is beautiful, rural and yet vaguely cosmopolitan, and I spend the lion’s share of each drive between destinations rubbernecking to take in as much as I possibly can. Maine is the kind of place where it doesn’t matter if the markings for a pedestrian crossing fade over time, you could step out in to traffic to cross the road and the cars will stop for you anyway. I like it, it’s unlike anywhere else I’ve spent time, and the people are lovely. I’ve always been more than vaguely unsettled at best by small-town America, envisaging cannibals and axe-murderers behind those warm and welcoming smiles. I likely have Stephen King et al to thank for that, and movies like The Book of Eli. That’s the thing, though, scenarios like that work so well to unsettle the reader/viewer because the people in places like Maine are actually that nice and friendly, that to suggest that something is sinister behind those smiles erodes any faith or trust in the world that we may have been carrying.
What surprised me most about my visit to Maine, both this time and last, was the wealth of good multicultural food to be found there. Sure, when one thinks of Maine, one thinks lobsters (lobstahs) and such, but does on usually think of mouth-watering bibimbap or authentic pad see ew or coal-fired pizzas with artisan crusts? Let’s face it, not really, but if you visit Maine you’d be pleasantly surprised. This is not even to mention the light-but-mouthwatering French toast, or crab cake eggs benedict, or to-die-for chicken wings.
Okay, I need breakfast, stat.
I should, at this stage, state the caveat that I have not spent any time in Portland really, nor in several cities and locales across the state. My visits have been limited to the Augusta-ish area, but I am very much looking forward to exploring elsewhere as well. That may, however, require a longer stay than I have previously enjoyed, as when I leave my list of “Places To Which I Must Return (And Eat)” grows longer each time.
Why do I think Maine is beautiful? Here, have a photo.