Had a last-minute get away to Ogunquit on the Maine Seacoast. We stayed at the most bizarre little inn right on Beach Street in a room overlooking the estuary. Though the view from our window was quite to my liking, the accommodations were a bit offbeat.
When I booked the room I was told it had it's own private bathroom--but it was just across the hall, not in the room. So I was prepared for that. We checked in--filling out our name, address and credit card information on a lined index card, and were given the keys from room 8. We climbed the stairs and find ouselves looking at 3 old fahioned oak panneled doors--all emblazoned with a brass numeral eight. Behind the first door we opened we found a tiny little closet just big enough to house a toilet. The next door opened into yet another closet that housed nothing but a shower stall. By process of elimination, the remaining door led to our room.
The panneled cottage-style room was not big enough to change your mind in. Upon opening the door one banged it into the white ceramic sink fastened to the wall behind the door. There was barely enough room to squeeze my suitcase between the half-opened door and the room's double bed. The light switch just inside the door did nothing... so I stumbled in the dark over to the twin brass reading lamps that extended directly over the bed pillows with not enough clearance for a person's head to rest under them. LOL.
There was an small antiquated Zenith television with rabbit ear antennas sitting on top of wooden bureau built to fit the slanted wall on the hallside of the room. The set was unplugged. I looked behind it and all along the the wall the bureau was affixed to--but there was no outlet into which the cord could be plugged. After a thorough search off the tiny 8x10 room, I realized there was but one set of electrical outlets--one of them occupied by the twin reading lamps over the bed. Apparently the television was unplugged because in order to have it plugged in--the cord would hang suspended in the narrow floor space between the bed and the built-in.
The hotel boasted free wifi access and, being internet addicted as we know I am, I brought my laptop. My first intention was to get my computer online--but I noticed straight away that the lone electrical outlets were non-grounded for two-pronged plugs and my laptop's a/c adaptor is three pronged, of course. I figured it must be a common issue for guests, so I ran down to the front desk to ask if they had an adaptor. The waif-thin middle-aged woman at the desk wasn't sure if they had one but says she will call the owner and send one up to our room if they possess one.
We run out for a bit to have dinner. We check out the menu posted outside Prego - An italian eatery with an inviting and expansive terrace seating area. There is a gay couple also perusing the menu and we start chatting with them. They are really funny and we have some laughs. We joke that we all wanted to try the Tapas & Tini martini bar we saw on the way into town but we think it is too far away and we are all lazy. Apparently we chatted to long and by the time we decide to grab a table we learn that the kitchen is closed so we have dessert and some realy bad coffee. I have a chocolate eclair and Joe has apple-kiwi gelato. We leave almost as quckly as we arrived. We go looking for more food. We are kind of hungry. We decide to suck it up and walk over to the Taps & Tini bar. It's kind of dead in there save for an obnoxious group of 40-somethings that seem to hail from the Attitash area of New Hampshire. They are very loud. But the menu looks good and Joe is already eyeballing the girl tending bar so we grab a table. We order our drinks and she makes a face at Joe's selection and talks him into something else she has conocted. He's sold. The drinks aren't bad...the food is good. We have gambas fritas, tostada catalana, plato mixto and chorizo. She is ireverant and tells us our order amounts to a ham and cheese sandwich, a plate of meats and olives, some bread and meat, fried shrimp and a spicey weiner. My flawless Spanish pronounciation is wasted on her.
We run into the gay couple again outside the Front Porch--a gay restaurant and piano bar which is painted canary yellow and located at the town's main intersection. They have just had an overly pretentious meal they said, and had to escape because the piano bar was banging out show tunes. Joe tells them it's a good thing I wasn't with them because he couldn't get me out of that place last year. We stand and chat with them yet again and share some more laughs and give them our critique of Tapas & Tinis which they are going to try the next night. We also tell them the gay dance club next to it appeared to be hopping. They ask where it is and we tell them they can't miss it--it has a big rainbow flag out front in addition to the prerequisite American and Canadian flags hung out front of all establishments in Ogunquit. They seem like fun people.
We decide it's late enough to call it a night and head back to our room.
We arrive and climb the narrow stair to our room and find a three-pronged adaptor taped to our door. Cool! I can now plug in my laptop and take advantage of the wifi...or so think I. I get my machine up and running and look into my network options but I don't see anything coming up for our Inn. There are a couple of nearby unsecured networks--both with very faint signals...but I try them nonetheless...but both require some kind of authentication code which I have not. I try for a while and give up annd go to sleep as it is late.
The next morning my eyes open with the sunrise and find myself wide awake. I think about trying to fall back asleep--but the bed is rather tiny for me to consider lingering in it. I get up and grab our SLR camera and decide I will try a few shots of our lovely view. This being accomplished I wash up and brush my teeth... scurry across the hall to the toilet closet...and return to my room to dress while my husband is still snoozing away. I figure I will enjoy the quiet of the early morning and take some pictures and go in search of some coffee. I can't function without it. I was pretty sure that the coffee/sandwich shop in the center of town had wifi--so I dragged my laptop along with me for my trek.
I snapped some pictures as I went along on my way from the beach into town. It was a hazey overcast morning and the air was sticky with salt from the sea. It wasn't going to be a good beach day, but if we were lucky we wouldn't encounter any rain.
I arrived at the cafe a the village center unsure of whether it was even open yet. I pushed through the screen door and the woman behind the counter told me they weren't officially open for another half hour but if all I wanted was coffee, she could take care of that for me.
I purchased my morning caffeine fix and scanned their patio area to see if there was an electrical outlet for my laptop where I might try to hop on their wifi... There wasn't. Besides, I didn't feel right sitting at one of their tables flaunting my prematurely obtained cup of joe. Instead I settled myself on a park bench accross from the gay piano bar and sipped my coffee while watching the passersby.
I saw a few joggers out for a run, a couple old women walking their dogs, and a handful of wide-eyed babies in strollers pushed by sleep-walking fathers who were obviously taking one for the team so their wives could catch a few more precious moments of sleep.
As usual I used a paperback to hide behind as I observed my fellow early-risers. People-watching is always one of my favorite past times, especially when I have nowhere I have to be. But as I completed the first chapter of the book I found myself being sucked into the story though it was not a book I had really intended to read. I finished my coffee and started to walk back toward the inn. A middle-aged father was wheeling a chubby-legged blue-eyed boy towards the beach and I chatted with him as we were going in the same direction. I talk to everyone. It's a little game of mine to see who talks back and who just looks at me like I have three heads.
The little boy was Tyler and it turned out they were from the town next to mine in Massachusetts. I learned that the dad was the baby's primary caretaker as he had left his job in New York as a healthcare administrator to get married and move here and he'd been unable to find a permanent position in the Boston area. He said it drove his working wife crazy because she didn't like that the boy preferred daddy to her. I told him that in a way he was lucky to have so much time with little Tyler and that in the long run he'd get his career back on track when the time was right and that he'd never regret this time spent with his son. This is something I say to myself over and over again as a woman who has put her career on hold to stay home with my kids. I try to convince myself I believe it. LOL. I reach the entry to my inn and bid the duo goodbye and good day. I suppose all my journalistic training makes me good at getting a lot of information out of people in a short period of time! I think we talked for maybe five minutes as we walked.
I can see some signs of life now at the inn. There was a promise of a continental breakfast but all I really see is a coffee dispenser over in the corner of the lounge area and a plate of slices of orange American cheese. I run upstairs and push open the door to room number 8 and inadvertently whack my husband in the backside as he is standing in front of the sink as I enter.
He asks where I've been off to and I give him the coffee I brought back for him. He tells me he is going to grab a shower and I tell him I am going to run down to the lounge and see what they might have to eat and to try the wifi situation once more.
I still have the three-pronged adaptor which I need to use to plug in at a small table in the lounge. I find myself engaged in conversation with an older woman with crutches seated at a table nearby. I'm not sure how the conversation unfolds but we discover that we are both writers--though she's published several books to date and my work is limited primarily to newspaper and magazine articles and marketing collateral. She gives me her email address and I promise I'll check out her stuff if and when get online. Her name is Lola.
I also talk with the young woman who is spending her summer working as jill of all trades here at the inn. I learn that she is from Colorado, an Air Force brat; she has not seen this part of the country and that is why she decided to come to this seacost town. She also has an aunt living in the nearby town of Wells.
The "deluxe continental breakfast" promised on the inn's website turns fall far short of expectations. In addition to the American cheese there is some bread to toast, a loaf of dry looking bananna bread, some assorted cereals, a few dried up looking oranges and a bananna or two. I settle for some Raisin Bran--it seems the safest choice.
I'm still having no luck getting online when my husband comes down to join me. I go in search of the young woman to ask her if she knows how to get on the wifi. She asks Patrick, the cook in the kitchen...this does not bode well. She tells me she'll call the owner and she dials him up on her cell phone. We decide it is probably best for the owner to just speak to my husband as he is a network engineer. Hubby speaks into the phone, listens, offers to reboot the router if need be, but then smiles, laughs and hangs up.
"What?" I ask, at his amused expression.
"It's a funny story," he says, "The owner says he will come down because he believes the router is unplugged because a guest was in need of a three-pronged adaptor and they only had the one being used by the router so they sent it up to the guest."
I laugh... at the irony that I needed the adaptor to plug in my laptop so I could get online--but then could not get online because the router was now uplugged due to my need.
In the end it turns out that the innkeeper's wireless network is incorrectly configured--he can get online on his machine, but nobody else can. I abandon my attempt to get online and we go back upstairs to pack. I decide I am feeling suddenly a little queasy and I visit the closet across the hall. As I am in there I realize the toilet is swaying back and forth quite noticeably. I go to our room and tell hubby I am going to lay down for a bit...I feel like I have the bed spins...but I am not hungover..and I felt fine earlier in the morning. I realize the whole room is swaying and that we are obviously out built over moorings and with the tide coming in we are rolling a bit... lol... okay so I am slightly seasick. Once I realize that it's that and not something I ate, I feel a bit better and and we decide to go for a walk.
Since check out is at 11, we pack up our belongings and reload my van. We go for a walk...get to the center of town and I spy the gay couple yet again across the intersectin we are crossing... "What are you following us?" I yell, they spot us and start laughing. We end up hearing about the rest of their night--they encountered some weird brother and sister duo--the sister 20 and underaged to even be in the bar and acting inappropriately. They said she was sharing too much information about her sexual conquests and telling them that her deepest fantasy was to make out with a gay guy. She did not impress them but they had some laughs at her expense. We laugh that we keep running into each other and part ways once again. The younger man reminds me a lot of my college friend Glenn. I miss him.
We go back to the car and get out the folding camp chairs and my beach cart and make our way to the beach---the tide is almost all the way in so we squeeze in to the narrow stretch of remaining dry sand.
We read for a bit. I wander down to the surf and wade a bit. The water temperature is just about 70 degrees. There are lots of people already in the ocean...but I am in a dress rather than a swimsuit and I content myself with the waves swirling about my calves and up to my knees.
I know that our stay will be short for in another 20 minutes or so the waves will be up to the rocks by the seawall... A young couple arrives ten minutes later and lays down a quilt on the sand. They are absorbed in each other as the seventh wave comes in suddenly and catches them offguard... soaking their blanket instantly and catching them head on in the faces.
We retreat to higher ground and return to our books. We notice another young couple, she is in a white string bikini and she is limping about as if she has a hurt ankle. He is emerging from the ocean in soaking wet sweat pants and no shirt. He tries to wring out his pants and cuffs them to knee height--why I can't fathom as they are already drenched. She climbs on his back and he carries her into the surf. She squeals as the waves start to hit her legs. We wonder if he is just taking her in to let the cold water soothe her injured ankle...but he is making sure to dunk her butt into the waves for good measure as she clings to him for dear life. First one butt cheek, then the other sticks out of her bathing suit bottom...then she struggles to re-adjust her top as one of her breasts threatens to fall out of her suit. She is laughing and he is twirling her around... After a while they come back to the beach and she staggers to a stand and fixes the bottom of her white bikini. He reties her top.
We go in search of lunch and pack up the beach cart and bring it back to the car.
Marginal Way, an ocean front path from the beach to Perkins Cove proides a scenic walk for us as we go in search of some place to eat. We take photos and videos along the way. The visibility is poor and the skies ahead are dark and ominous and vaguely threatening. I am glad I brought my umbrella, having one at the ready almost guarantees that it will not rain.
We spy a large yacht beyond the rocks. Upon inpection with the close-up lens we learn it is the Aquasition. I have to look it up and see who owns it. It is quite impressive. As we walk it rotates around it's anchor--it appears to be on a long tether and is drifting hither and thither.
We decide to eat at a place right on Marginal Way and take a table right outside. It is called the Oarweed. They have great clam chowder and a decent lobster roll. Joe has a hamburger. It starts to sprinkle but it doesn't last long. My blue and gold Ikea umbrella wards off a downpour. We walk around Perkin's Cove for a bit, taking some more pictures of the shops and fishing and charter boats and grab a coffee at Breaking New Ground Coffee & Tea house. It's getting late so we take the trolley back up to the beach where are car is parked and head home.
