Provincetown and Cape Cod

Well, Friday we had our first real look this year at winter. (Halloween was a terrible pop at winter's power, I admit, at least for folks up north.) But last Saturday was a gorgeous day here in southern New England, chilly to be sure, but sunny and bright with a promise to keep the ice gods at bay.

So, for no particular reason, other than I've never been before, I suggested to Susie a day trip to the very tip of Cape Cod. And so, we went.

We left home mid-morning. Traffic was light, making for stress-free driving as we cruised in peace (con tranquilo) up I-195, passing Fall River ("Lizzie Borden took an axe. . . "), New Bedford ("For a whale of a good time. . . "), and Moby Dick's Bar & Grille. When the interstate ended we switched to Route 25 then across the Cape Cod Canal onto Route 6a to Route 6 and back onto 6a for the scenic tour, as we plunged ever deeper into the crazy quilt of the Cape itself.

"The Tourists"

Driving past Sandwich, Barnstable, Cummaquid ("Cummaquid?"), Yarmouth, Dennis and Brewster where we stopped at an incredible kitchen store, The Cook Shop. A fantastic selection of condiments, wide variety of tools, bakeware and cookware. And they're friendly folks (with a public bathroom in the back).

Beyond Brewster, Eastham, Orleans and Wellfleet, the land seemed to change dramatically and so did the homes. No more the rolling terrain, the quaint cottages, now we were being squeezed onto sand with row after row of tiny cabins seemingly designed for circus performers, broken up only by the numerous taffy and fudge shops thankfully closed until May.

After about two and a half hours on the road, we reached Provincetown itself, finding our way onto Commercial Street, passing homes sited cheek-by-jowl, all sitting in solitude, quietly awaiting the onslaught of humanity that would come this way this May.

Our first thought as we crawled up the narrow confines of Commercial street seeking the center of Pilgrim World was how incredibly funky (in a good way, I think) this place is: the small homes, the virtually non-existent streets, the art on the street, Fantastic!

But nearly every thing was closed so we considered ourselves lucky when we found a restaurant open for lunch. Fanizzi's was right on Commercial Street and, more importantly, right on the water. (Oddly enough, though the city seemed dead, we found what appeared to be the last parking space on the street -- for in fact we were not alone. There seemed to be people popping in and out of cars everywhere.

Anyway, we didn't have to wait long for a table even though the place was packed. We even got a table with a view. The food was OK, service friendly but rushed, but the view was incredible.

Spring rolls for starters (over-fried and oddly tough we thought):

Susan had a Caesar with grilled chicken (not bad):

And I had fresh cod (locally caught I was told), fried with cheddar on a toasted bun with fries.

I thought the fish tasted rather bland and the fries had an unusual crispy coating, which didn't have an impact on the flavor one way or the other. The slaw, however, was not the typical sloppy mayonnaise mess but a crisp, tasty vinegar concoction that was actually quite good.

We washed the meal down with an inexpensive but crisp vinho verde (Portugal). Oh, and we skipped dessert.

After lunch we drove through town down to where the fishing fleet was tied up -- yes, I'm told they do indeed fish for cod here although there were no fish mongers to be found.

But there was a nice view of the town from the docks:

All was quiet along the docks so we cruised back into town and few minutes later found us circling the spot where, it is claimed, the pilgrims first landed. (This was certainly before someone told them they were supposed to land at Plymouth because the t-shirt shops were already up and running).

We then followed the road around the end of the Cape, past the airport and down the other side, occasionally striking off toward one of the numerous beaches. The enormous parking lots were empty and so were the dunes and the beaches themselves. Peaceful and enjoyable were it not for the arctic winds and brutal temperature.

Opting not to go surfing or swimming we started our way back off the Cape. Back onto Route 6 cut off on Route 28 to Chatham and quickly realized this was a poor choice: the place was one long strip mall and we could just imagine the anguish it must produce in the thousands of drivers who fell compelled to travel this way int he summer.

So we crawled along enjoying the twilight mixed with the never-ending lights of the shops, stores and various other harbors of consumerism until we were back across the canal and on I195 heading west to Westminster Street in Providence.