To Get Wasted And Ride Bikes Or Not?

Trip Start Jan 30, 2011
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Trip End Nov 16, 2011


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Flag of United States  , Massachusetts
Saturday, October 1, 2011

Whispering 'white rabbit, white rabbit, white rabbit' for the penultimate time on this trip was interrupted by one of the lads in the house saying ‘see if the backpacker comes or if she wants to spend all day in her room.’ I bit my tongue and wondered if they knew the door was wide open and I heard, or if they meant to openly insult me, before jumping at the offer to go to Chatham with Jennifer’s former Couchsurfer Brian and his friend James who had both driven over from New York yesterday.

After driving to the wrong address to pick up Jennifer and Brian’s friend we eventually arrived at the correct address to find John, a sixty-something gentleman who had the most stylish horn-rimmed glasses and an amazing sense of humour. I refer to him as a gentleman because he was one, he opened doors for me at every opportunity and made sure I was kept in the conversation when it got ‘too American.’  The opening for my input was often done in a jolly good English accent too, making it even more entertaining.

We drove down to Harwich and Chatham to see the lighthouses, fish markets, and $40 lobster on sale to tourists, as well as viewing the exclusive houses where the rich and famous summer; apparently summer becomes a verb when you’re rich enough.  As the old houses flew by John quickly pointed out a hedge that had been trimmed to look like a train pulling into the garden, unfortunately the car didn’t stop for a photo opportunity as we were off in search of The Chatham Squire for a stuffed clam and a brew.  A brew over here is not a cup of tea though, as John was referring to a pint, but either way I was happy to partake in the ritual. 

A stuffed clam and some discussion over what we all thought was our life expectancy later, we were bidding farewell to John and heading off in search of the lobsters and scallops Brian and James had ordered from a local fisherman.  It wasn’t quite the fisherman I envisioned, as there were no yellow dungarees, no wellies, and certainly no ice to preserve the produce.  No, these fishermen were operating out the back of their house in between piercing cans and downing beer from the bottom.  The lobsters were presented in a muslin bag that we hoped would keep them alive until we got back to Jennifer’s, and after declining the invitation to ‘get wasted and ride bikes’ we were on our way from the men, yes they were definitely over twenty-five, who carry beer in their backpacks and ride around the Cape until it gets dark.  I suppose this could have been a case of if you can’t beat them, join them, but I don’t regret my decision to remain sober and on two feet.  Oh and of course they offered us weed, ‘all kinds for $40,’ cheap at the price I’m sure, but once again there was no sale on my part. 

Someone mentioned lots of the girls on the Cape move away once they’ve been educated; if the majority of marriage prospects are grown men who get wasted, ride bikes, and smoke weed, I can see why. 

Brian and James were forced to cook the lobsters sooner than they hoped as they’d half-killed them already by storing them in fresh water, apparently the crustaceans don’t like that so much.  I wasn’t involved in this particular massacre, but did watch with morbid fascination when the lizard got fed; the crickets hid behind rocks as he slowly meandered around his territory in search of his prey.  My time in Africa watching the circle of life clearly changed me into a bloodthirsty viewer.
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Comments

Sixty something on

Sounds like i got competition there, it's nice to know you are with good people yet again.

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