Provincetown, Kitchen Sinks, and Where is Cape Cod Again?

Before I get into Provincetown, let me give you a little geography lesson about Cape Cod. Not to insult your intelligence, but I had several friends furrow their brow and sheepishly ask, "Now where is that again?" when I told them we were staying on Cape Cod.

In their defense, these friends were from "The West." For us folks in The West, New England is a conglomeration of lovely states with history, maple syrup, pretty fall colors, something about colonies and Ben Franklin, and they're all pretty much interchangeable. I was really good at geography, and it still took me years to keep Vermont and New Hampshire straight on the map. (Vermont is shaped like a V, FYI.)

Geography isn't everyone's forte. I get it. Calculus isn't my forte. Neither is sorting socks. We all have our strengths.

So, here's a little visual of where we are. We're staying in Barnstable, right there in the middle of the "arm."

I'm not kidding that many of our people in The West don't know that Martha's Vineyard is an island. I think I just found that out a couple of years ago, and it may or may not have been from an episode of Gilmore Girls. I just knew it was where rich people vacation in The Northeast.

I also didn't realize until we were crossing the bridge from the mainland that Cape Cod, too, is an island. Right near where the yellow and pink merge up there on the map is a canal separating the cape from the mainland.

I've never liked the idea of living on an island, quite frankly. I don't like feeling like there's nowhere to go in the event of an island-wide emergency. I just try push those little thoughts right out of my brain.

So here we are, staying right in the middle of this island called Cape Cod, with all of it's charm and history and unique landscape. So far it's been lovely. The house we're renting is incredible - we may just take it with us everywhere we go from here. I'm at least going to take the farmhouse kitchen sink. :)

One of the cape's unique towns is Provincetown - the "fist" all the way at the tip of the cape. It's literally where the land ends. It's also where the Pilgrims first landed, having gotten blown off course on their way to Virginia. They formed the Mayflower Compact here, stayed for five weeks and explored the area, then decided to settle in Plymouth.

(Side note: I find it perfectly ironic that the Pilgrims unintentionally landed on the part of the continent that looks like it's giving the bird - or at least showing its "fist"- to England.)

Havarti and I were recently talking about how the figures from early American history have always seemed semi-fictional. The colonies were so far from Washington State, where we grew up, and it was hard for us to really feel connected with those places and names and faces. Certainly some of the better videos have helped create those connections (the "John Adams" mini-series was AMAZING). But being in this region, standing in the building in Boston where Ben Franklin was baptized, looking at the water where the Patriots dumped their tea into the harbor - it really does make history come alive.

So back to Provincetown. Pilgrim Monument is - you guessed it - a monument and museum dedicated to the Pilgrims.

It's kinda big and tall. Even moreso when you're right up next to it.

To get to the top, you have to climb 116 stairs and 60 ramps. In a spiral. This is what that looks like from the top looking down. (Hope you like heights.)

The view from the top is fantastic. You can see the shape of the cape in all directions, as well as the mainland off in the distance. Gorgeous on this fall afternoon.

 

Our proud platoon, who made it all the way up and down those ramps and stairs without so much as one whine. A Halloween miracle!!

After Pilgrim Monument, we went to the actual spot where the Pilgrims landed. Sort of. It was around here somewhere.

There's a rock bridge that extends all the way out to the very tippy-top of the cape. We would've loved to have gone all the way out there, but it was LONG.

And the little dude with the little legs slowed us down a bit. He sure had fun traversing those rocks, though.

A short way down the bridge, this odd scene sits to your left. I don't even know how to begin to figure out the story here. But I love it. I just feels poetic, doesn't it?   

The town of Provincetown itself is really cute. Quite hopping, too, even in the off season. Lots of quaint little shops and restaurants. And on this particular weekend, a noticeably large number of lesbian couples. Curious about that, I looked it up and it turns out it was the tail end of Women's Week Provincetown. 

And look! A library! A cool, old one. Cape Cod gave us a library card, despite the fact that we don't have a permanent address here. I'm beyond thrilled with the fact that I can fulfill my mission of winning the world record for library late fees. Like I said, we all have our strengths.

I don't have a photo of where we ate dinner, but it wasn't anything special. The waitress was funny, though. Funny in a slightly rude, Northeastern kind of way. I asked if she knew what they had on the menu that was gluten-free, and she kind of rolled her eyes and said, "I'm not one to ask about that. I'm not familiar with this whole new 'gluten-free' thing. I don't even know what a gluten is." See? Funny.

Totally speaking in generalizations, we've noted that the Northeasterners with the thickest accents tend to give a bit of a brash first impression. After speaking with them for a few minutes, they magically melt into something warmer, but there's definitely a unique initial quality that's different from what we're used to. I actually find it rather entertaining, which is probably horribly condescending. Half the time, I feel like I'm talking to a character in a sitcom. Is that mean?

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed our geography and history lesson from Provincetown! I'll get some photos of our cute little house to share soon. I should have taken pictures when we first got here and it was all pristine and perfect and not strewn with the aftermath of three not-so-orderly children. Maybe I'll at least get the sink cleaned up and post it on Facebook so you can see it soon. It's truly a beautiful thing. 

A Rabbi, a Buddhist, a Baptist, a Muslim, and a Baha'i Walk into a Synagogue . . .

Walking through the doors of the Cape Cod Synagogue last night, I couldn't help but recall jokes about religious leaders with tacky punchlines. There were Jews, Christians, Buddhists, Muslims, Baha'is, and people of various other spiritual persuasions, all coming together in a spirit of fellowship. 

If that sounds "feel-goody," I assure you it was. Truly. It feels good to break down barriers and find unity among different belief systems. 

But we weren't there just to feel good. That could have been accomplished with some general words of goodwill and an offering of universal prayers. 

Instead, the Cape Cod Interfaith Coalition chose to tackle a kraken in this gathering. The theme of the evening:"ONE NATION . . . Recovering Our Unity: A Non-Partisan Discussion on the Need for Civil Discourse in our Government." 

Seriously? Religion AND politics? Generally a "not-so-feel-goody" combo, don't you think? Pretty bold move. 

But the amazing thing? It really did feel good - healing, even - to talk about the problems plaguing our political system from various faith viewpoints. 

The Buddhist who welcomed us set a perfect tone for the evening, inviting us to remember that even if we find nothing else in common with our fellow humans, we all share the same space, the same breath. We breathe the same air. 

I love how simply the Buddhists can bring us back to home base. We are literally, physically, inside one another, in the air we breathe.

I won't go through everything that was presented, but I'm a nerdy note-taker, so I'll share what I recalled from my notes:

Larry Brown, a columnist for the Cape Cod Times, relayed some interesting thoughts on where we are right now in America. He came from a very political family, and he's spoken to many older Americans about politics, and neither he nor they remember the political climate ever feeling quite this bad before. 

Extreme partisanship has extended into almost every area of our lives in unprecedented ways, and Larry offered four reasons for this: 
1) constant media exposure 
2) vast inequality in wealth concentration 
3) the deliberate courting of religious groups by political parties 
4) the fact that politicians feed off of our tendency towards tribalism

Larry's wife worked with rape victims in Europe after the Yugoslav Wars, where some 75,000 women (mostly Muslim) were raped. He said people there would go up to his wife, knowing she was American, and say, "We had NO IDEA that we, as a people, were capable of doing the things we've done to each other. We're good people. Tell your people - they probably think they're good people, too. We really didn't think it was possible for us to reach this level and treat each other this way." 

Americans are not immune to sinking to the depths of inhumanity we see in countries torn by civil war. Our divisive, polarized political climate is dangerous. Larry said, "We can't practice politics as a dark art and expect to arrive at a bright place." I love that.

He said we mustn't be resigned to political divisiveness. We must tell ourselves, over and over, "It doesn't have to be this way." We can choose for it to be different. We must spend time face-to-face with people with whom we disagree, and focus on bringing out the things we love most in each other instead of the things we fear most in each other. I love that, too.

Next, Rabbi David Freelund pointed out that in a culture obsessed with triumph, we've lost the art of losing. "Never give up," is a mantra we often hear and think is a good thing. We no longer know how to lose an argument at all, much less with grace and humility.

He shared a story of Rabbi Eleazar from the Talmud, a cautionary tale about refusing to go with the majority rule. "Our sacred obligation is to form a consensus and move forward," he said. Sometimes that means letting go of your attachment to winning, or being right, and supporting the majority - even when you disagree with it. 

We haven't done such a good job of that in our government as of late.

He also pointed out a couple of things that California has done to their electoral processes to help quell partisan insanity. First, they made it so that districting is done by non-partisan means so that political parties can't change the district boundaries and give themselves an advantage. Second, they made their primary elections non-partisan as well. All candidates get put on the primary ballot - no Democratic and Republican primaries. This naturally leads to more moderate candidates being elected, which, unless you're an extremist, is a good thing. 

Next up was a Baptist Deacon, who offered a prayer and led us in song, with Rabbi David accompanying on the guitar. He explained how his participation in such a gathering did not betray his faith but rather strengthened it, as we respect and share one another's spiritual journeys. Beautiful.

Knowing full well the Baha'i view of partisan politics (basically, avoid partisanship like the plague), I was curious to see what the Baha'i speaker, Judith Partelow, would share. First, she shared some words from the Baha'i writings admonishing governments to uphold justice for all and explaining how the extremes of wealth and poverty are a root cause of divisiveness and injustice. True that.

Then, in what felt like a soothing balm after examining America's challenges, she shared some words of hope and prayer from 'Abdu'l-Baha, describing the potential America has to be an example to the rest of the world: 

"This American nation is equipped and empowered to accomplish that which will adorn the pages of history . . . May this American democracy be the first nation to establish the foundation of international agreement. May it be the first nation to proclaim the unity of mankind. May it be the first to unfurl the standard of the Most Great Peace . . . May the inhabitants of this country rise from their present material attainment to such heights that heavenly illumination may stream from this center to all the peoples of the world." 

America is not beyond hope. Love that, too.

The Muslim speaker, Mir Shuttari, described the tribalism, racism, and human indignity of Mecca 1400 years ago, and how Muhammad helped unite people by basically taking them back to the original teachings of Abraham. One God. One people. Unity. Dr. Shuttari then took us back to the original teachings of our forefathers about the importance of maintaining our union, sharing a warning from Alexander Hamilton about what would happen if we allow the knot of our union to be severed. 

Then another gentleman, Wayne Tooker, described the relationship between Thomas Jefferson and John Adams. Politically, they were mortal enemies. They wrote hundreds of letters back and forth, vehemently-yet-respectfully disagreeing with one another. Though they were political enemies, they ultimately became close friends. Their political views didn't keep them apart; in fact, the very act of civil political discourse may have been what bonded them. 

Wayne also described, as a global traveler, a broader perspective on politics in general. It's not about left vs. right, he proposed, but about incumbancy vs. who's trying to take the fort. It's about power - who has it and who wants it. 

He then took consciousness down to a personal level and pointed out our tendency towards wanting a "team." When we don't feel good about ourselves, we find people who are shouting in the direction we think is to blame for our (or society's) problems, and gather behind them. In that tribal-like grouping, we feel part of something. It feels good to be part of a team. 

But that tribal/team mentality is a large part of what causes divisiveness in our political system. And because it's a natural way to win votes, politicians capitalize on our tendency to form tribes and teams with partisanship. We have to be aware of our desire to form teams and tribes, be aware of when we're doing it, and be aware that THIS - more than any issue on any platform -  is what ultimately divides us. 

Finally, Steve Cordry pointed out that gatherings like this one - with people from different beliefs coming together with respect and humility - are key to transforming our society. 

He compared this gathering to an imaginal cell in a caterpillar. Imaginal cells hold the DNA for the butterfly. But the caterpillar's body doesn't recognize those cells when they start forming, so the immune system attacks them. But the imaginal cells keep coming, link together, and get stronger. Eventually the caterpillar's body gives up and perishes in the fight, and the butterfly emerges triumphant - practically unrecognizable from its former state. LOVE. THAT.

In this small gathering on this smallish island in this small state, big things were happening last night. A Rabbi, a Buddhist, a Baptist, a Muslim, a Baha'i, and a bunch of others walked into a synagogue to talk politics . . . and the unlikely punchline was unity. 

On any scale, true unity in diversity is a beautiful thing to behold. I felt honored and humbled. The hope radiating from such a gathering has the power to inspire even the most disheartened and cynical among us. 

And that's no joke.

Playing at the Cape Cod National Seashore

The kids and I checked out the beach at the Cape Cod National Seashore this week. Now that we've set foot in the Atlantic, we can officially say we've traveled "from sea to shining sea." How cool is that?

Luckily, we had a warm mid-October day to enjoy this classic Cape experience.

So classic, in fact, that I thought the photos felt more appropriate in black-and-white. Just like the Kennedys back in the day. :) Enjoy.

 

 

 

 

Niagara Falls on a Whim

One of the challenges of our travels around the country is the actual traveling part.

The way our nomadic set-up works is that we rent vacation homes for several weeks to several months at a time. Surprisingly, this turns out to be quite affordable (for example, our beautiful 4-bedroom house on Cape Cod works out to $50/night including utilities - cheaper than our rent in the Chicago suburbs). It also makes it feasible for Havarti and I to continue working from home while we travel.

What that means for traveling, though, is that we have to try to get from place to place without a lot of detours. That gets tricky when we're traveling far distances. Eight hours of drive time actually works out to about 10 hours of travel time (stopping to eat and pee and move our legs). We can fairly comfortably do 10 hours of traveling in a day. More than that gets ugly.

So even a cool site that's a half-hour off the freeway, by the time you figure in the actual site-seeing time and another half-hour to get back on the freeway, adds two or three hours to an already full day of traveling.

And that's just not sanely doable most drives.

The other option is to just add another day of traveling, but that adds another hotel (at least $70), plus more road food (always a challenge with our gluten-free/dairy-free folk), plus time that we need for work.

Ergo, we've missed a lot of "oh, so close" sites that we wish we'd been able to experience. Several National Parks, a handful of major historical sites, and even some old friends who we'd love to be able to sit and chat with. We just can't make it all work.

It's all good. No room for complaint in this life we're living, really.

The point of all this is to explain how cool it is that we ended up seeing Niagara Falls on our way to Cape Cod.

Buffalo, NY is about halfway between Chicago and Cape Cod, so we stopped at a hotel there for the night. We knew it was about a half-hour from Niagara Falls - but in the opposite direction of Cape Cod. We weren't sure if we wanted to add the extra hours to stop and see it.

But it's Niagara Falls! People take vacations specifically to see this place. We knew we'd kick ourselves if we didn't do it. So after some late night messaging with my friend, Kelly (who grew up in the town of Niagara Falls), we felt confident that we could make it work on our way out of town the next morning.

So we woke the kids up early, quickly packed up, and headed to Niagara Falls before I'd even had my coffee.

It's funny how thrilling a bunch of water going over a cliff can be.

 

Almost a million gallons of water per second.

Just falling and falling and falling. All day. All night.

It's mind-boggling, really. And I learned that the outflow of water from the four Upper Great Lakes flows into the Niagara River and over the falls, then flows into Lake Ontario. This factoid would have meant pretty much nothing to me as a kid growing up in Washington, where the Great Lakes were just big blue blobs on a map. It's different to see these things in real life.

 Which is a big reason why we're taking this trip.

 It was a cloudy morning. Not too cold, thankfully.

But it's definitely misty near the falls. My friend had told me that the Canadian side of the falls is where you can "see" the falls, but the American side is where you "experience" them. I didn't really understand what that meant until we were there.

It means you get the spray right in your face. If I'd had a long stick I could have touched the water. If we'd been there in season (or probably even later in the day) we could have gone to a cave under the falls where you're actually behind the waterfall. That would have been cool.

It also would have been cool to cross the bridge and see the view from the Canadian side, but alas, no passports for the kiddos.

I'm glad we got to see what we did of the falls, though. Well worth the extra couple hours of travel time.

Living the Life You've Imagined

In two days, I get to cross a big ticket item off my bucket list. Wow.

Since I was a kid, I've yearned, longed, like way-deep-down-in-my-soul, to live in New England. I was born and grew up on the West Coast, but something about the aged brick and ivy of New England has always appealed to my aesthetic sensibilities. Not sure why, exactly. Maybe it's the way it's always portrayed in the movies. The architecture. The history. The foliage. All of it. It calls to me in a big way.

So tomorrow we leave Chicagoland (once again) and drive off toward our 3-month stint living on Cape Cod. The daydreaming child version of Annie is giddily jumping up and down with joy. This is literally a dream come true for me.

I've been thinking a bit about how this came to be.

When I tell people about our family's unique current situation (living as nomads traveling the U.S. for a year), I get a lot of comments about how lucky we are. And that's true. We are lucky. 

We're also intentional.

Most people are too polite to ask us how we're doing it, but I imagine that many must assume we have a large disposable income (we don't), a large savings account (nope), no debt (pretty sure I'll be paying off my college education til I die), or some other financial means that they don't have. 

We aren't wealthy, at least not by American standards. We're solid middle-classers who shop at thrift stores, worry about the cost of groceries, and pray for money to miraculously fall from the sky to pay for our kids' college. No rolling in the Benjamins around here. 

So we've had to be creative to live the life we've imagined. Like billions of others, I'd love to be independently wealthy and travel the world. But that's not our circumstance. 

Selling many of our belongings, putting the rest into storage, and using our monthly rent/mortgage money to travel was a bold move. Finding vacation rentals that fit our budget and make sense logistically hasn't been easy. But it's been possible. If we had larger financial means, this year of nomadic living would have been a piece of cake. But the challenge is part of the adventure of it. (At least that's what I keep telling myself.) 

What we do have - in plenty - is freedom. And that's something we've been fortunate enough to be able to choose. Both Havarti's and my jobs allow us to work from home, which is really cool, but not entirely unique in the digital age. We've homeschooled the kids from the beginning, with freedom being one of our big reasons to do so. We chose not to buy a home again because we weren't planning on living in the Chicago area forever, and we wanted to be free from selling a house in a volatile market. 

Freedom is big for us. We take freedom into account any time a big decision is to be made. 

So we are lucky, yes. We were fortunate enough to be born into the American middle class and we recognize that that automatically gives us opportunity that much of the world doesn't have. 

But we've also capitalized on our circumstances. We've made this life possible partially through small choices we made over the years, partially through large choices we made over the years, partially through patience and planning, and partially by seizing the opportunity when it presented itself.

So in addition to being lucky, we've also made it happen. I'm guessing that's true of most dreams come true.

Of course, living on Cape Cod for 3 1/2 months isn't 100% "living" there. But that's okay. I've long known that my dream of living in New England isn't realistic long-term. Our life is in the West. Our families are there. Our history is there. Other than my personal aesthetic sensibilities, there's no reason for us to move to New England. So this trip is a perfect way to realize my dream for a short while. 

There's nothing wrong with adjusting your dreams to fit your reality.

While we may not always be able to live exactly the life we imagine, I'm convinced that with some creativity and rigorous planning - and yes, a bit of luck - many of us can live some version of it, in the right season, at least for a while. 

And that's really something. 

This is my photo. I like it. If you like it, I'm pretty nice and might just let you use it. Just ask.
Stealing isn't nice. It's mean and stupid.