Provincetown is at the very end of the cape, about two hours from Woods Hole. We drove through small town after small town, each with the characteristic architecture of Cape Cod, picturesque and charming. The area is quite populated, but I imagine this is the summer crowd, and that in the dead of winter, there are far fewer people. There are no parts that feel overbuilt; the building codes must be particularly strict.
The sky was ominous, and when we arrived at the 'Flying'dock, we were warned about 30 mile an hour winds and possible raining and storms. We went sailing anyway, and it was wonderful! The sun only occasionally peeked out, but the wind was perfect, not too much, and with both sails out, we were booking! I do not want to think of getting older, so with the sound of the wind in my ears drowning out the awareness of all my mistakes and misteps of five decades, I could tolerate the day. Maya stood out front, hanging on to a rope, ready to slip into the waves. Eric is comfortable in a boat, and sailing does not appear to be work for him. I dream of one day living on a boat and traveling around the world. Now that I no longer have a home and am living out of a suitcase, living on a boat does not seem impossible.
Provincetown is delightful.Shops and restaurants and inns and ice cream establishments line the main road through town. Throngs of tourists are shopping, going for coffee, eating, drinking, riding their bikes and enjoying this shady day. There are several theatres with nightly entertainment, much of it burlesque and vaudeville in style. For whatever reason, Provincetown attracts a decidedly gay crowd. The uniform du jour appears to be long Bermuda shorts, T-shirts or muscle shirts, bald head and mustaches/beards. I was surprised by the widespread facial hair in particular, and by how many fat men there were there! Eric fits right in.
I am off to Baltimore tomorrow. Maya has another week of ballet camp, and I wanted to go the Artscape, the yearly art fair, to see Daphne belly dance, but now that I am here, I would rather stay in Woods Hole and enjoy a few quiet days. Bike rides, yoga, beach, Eric. I have seen little of Eric. He arrived early Tuesday morning, surprised to see every spot on the floor covered with sleeping bags and legs and arms and bodies of all shapes and sizes. I was in Boston with Maya Tuesday, took the ferry to Martha's Vineyard yesterday, and we had our day together today. This move has not been an experience that has brought us together. We have both been working to make it happen, but on different tracks, different planets. I organized lots of time in Woods Hole this summer, but somehow life has not happened as expected, and we are apart again next week. Eric keeps reassuring me that when we are in Ecuador, we will finally have time together as a family.
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