Every state has at least one picturesque village or town. In New Hampshire, it’s Portsmouth.
After my presentation to Mighty Therapeutics, I had a chance to encounter some beautiful views and some interesting people.
First, the food. As the saying goes, “When in Rome, have the clam chowder.”
So I had three bowls of clam chowder from three different places. I’m happy to say that in New England, clam chowder starts with a bowl of chopped clams that you add soup to, unlike my mom’s recipe, which consisted of a bowl of soup that you’d sprinkle bits of clam on.
I also had the seafood—oysters on the half shell. Delicious! (If you like that stuff. And no, no parasites have been noticed yet.)
The best seafood was at the airport, where I got a piping-hot fishmonger’s sandwich that was so flaky it used up eight napkins. Deeelicious! 😀
Also, while I was in Portsmouth, I learned that if I crossed a certain bridge, I could be in Maine. So I did it.
A guy named Robert was behind me and offered to take this picture. Robert is from Houston. He motioned down to a boat in the harbor and said something about going on a three-month loop with a buddy as a last-minute decision.
I suspect Robert is a man of means. He’s also happy to tell a story. His life was mainly spent growing hogs and feeding out cattle, but his last name is Northrup. Which is either airplanes if you’re from the West Coast and spell it with an O, or garden seed if you’re from the Midwest and spell it with a U. Robert is a U, so maybe not as wealthy.
We’re walking across the bridge to Maine. His wife, Elaine, is in front of us and not saying much, so Robert tells her story for her.
Her dad was in the CIA, shipping arms illegally to Batista during the Cuban uprising. He met a girl, got married, and that’s how Elaine came into the world.
I asked Robert if this means I’m gonna get whacked for knowing too much.
He chuckles and says, “No. It’s a long time ago, and nobody would believe you anyway.”
We cross the bridge. I give him my card and tell him that when he comes through South Dakota, I’ll show him the town.
I ask for his name again. “Is it Robert?”
We shake hands, and he says, “My friends call me Rob.”
I close the deal and say, “Well, Rob, you and Elaine look me up when you come through.”
I hope it happens. I bet that guy can talk your leg off with some great stories.
I’m interested in being in Maine, just to say I’ve been there, but I’m not interested in overly exerting myself, so I stop at Badger’s Island, where there’s a Buoy Shack, another bowl of clam chowder, and a blueberry ice cream float (who knew?).
Anyway, I pull up a bench, enjoy the sunset across the harbor, and talk to a mother-daughter duo named Susan and Livvy.
Susan was a doctor and only recently found a different branch of the medical field that she likes a lot better and doesn’t require as much time.
Livvy started in Maine (they’re called Mainers, they told me) and now lives in Bozeman, Montana, where she teaches kids to ski and is searching for her purpose in life.
I think she’ll find it. When a girl comes home to Maine and spends time with her mom, it’s a good sign.
Breakfast this morning was by myself—no one else seems to appreciate the crisp, fresh air. Most of them appear to be in the medical field, where they hunch around breakfast tables and talk in urgent tones like military teams synchronizing their watches before the assault.
In a few hours, I’ll take a one-and-a-half-hour bus ride to see if the fall leaves have changed a bit more. I’ll take pictures that won’t convey the beauty of the scene, but if I’m careful, the stories will.
Remember, it’s not about the pictures. It’s about the stories. 😉
Aaaand, I’m pretty sure I can find another bowl of clam chowder at the airport!
And you, world traveler: What’s the best part about New England?
#NewEngland #PortsmouthNH #NewHampshire #Maine #TravelStories #Storytelling #FallInNewEngland #ClamChowder #LifeIsAboutTheStories #TravelAdventures #PeopleYouMeet #ILikeThatStory
