Real Maine: Reality Check; Part 1

When I talk to people about Maine, it's usually about all the things you can do here.  Shop, eat, hike, bike, relax, swim, boat, and we'll do our best to accommodate whatever else you can think of.  But like everywhere in the world, there are truths and fallacies.  I have compiled a listing of some common misconceptions about Maine and the realities that real Mainers know.  

True:  there are moose in Maine

False:  moose are everywhere

No, moose are not running rampant throughout the state.  We don’t all have them wandering into the backyard barbeque or holding up traffic downtown.  Yes, there are moose here.  In fact, in some places, like Moosehead Lake (hence the name) and in the Katahdin region and in the space between like the 100 mile wilderness, they say moose outnumber people.  I live in the city, albeit a small city, but in my daily travels here I don’t encounter moose.  When I was growing up in southern Maine, there was a family legend about a moose trotting up into the yard one morning, very early, and peeking in the windows.  There was also a story about a moose on the golf course in Bangor during a tournament, but I’m not very clear on that one.

If seeing a moose is on your bucket list and one of the goals of your visit to Maine is to cross that one off, you will want to be certain that you will see a moose.  I suggest that you contact one of the great outfits that offer moose safaris or moose photo tours.  Here's a couple to get you started: Moose Photo Tours or Maine Moose Safari.  Google "moose tours" or visit the websites for the Moosehead Lake Chamber of Commerce or the Katahdin Area Chamber of Commerce.  

True:  you can visit the beautiful beaches of York and Ogunquit and you can have a great lunch in Boothbay Harbor overlooking it all and you can go on a whale watch from Bar Harbor.

False:  you can do that in one day

I read the reviews and forums on TripAdvisor.com and on Frommer’s to name a couple and I’m astounded at what people think they can accomplish in one 24 hour period in Maine.  People seem to believe that they can just “hop” off the interstate and “pop” into Boothbay Harbor for a quick bite.  That “hop” can take hours in the summer, with traffic backed up for miles and the “pop” can mean some time waiting for a table or finding a parking space.  I’m not trying to discourage visitors – just trying to manage expectations.  Maine may be a place you can get away from it all in spirit but many parts of the state are just as busy as urban areas around the country.  Just be realistic about it and have a good, relaxed time.  You can leave your uptight suit at home.  Know we’ve got traffic and waiting for a table at a good restaurant just like you have at home.  Also know that most people here will wave you into that traffic and that the restaurant you’re going to eat at has seafood that was caught this morning.  The people are what makes the difference here. 

 

True:  you can eat lobster and blueberry pie every day of your Maine vacation

False:   don’t bother coming if you’re not into lobster or blueberry pie

Maine is carefully crafting a culture of culinary excellence.  Back in the late 90’s Bon Appetit magazine declared that Portland, Maine had more restaurants per capita than any other city in the US.  Since then, the food scene here has just exploded in a great way.  The farm to table movement is big here, as is the boat to table concept.  Every season offers something fresh and delicious.

The Maine Restaurant Association's website can give you listings of where you can eat in the part of Maine you are visiting.  They have a great new app that you can use while you're here to make decisions, make reservations, and make your trip mouthwateringly awesome. 

 

True – you can drive 75 miles per hour in Maine

False – that starts at the border

There’s a show that I’ve attended in my role as marketing person for our tourism region. It’s called the Big E or the Eastern States Exhibition. It is held each year in West Springfield MA and goes on for 17 days. Each of the New England states has their own building on the Avenue of States. My organization, The Maine Highlands, was, of course, in the Maine building. I’m telling you this because it ties in with my true/false above. Dozens of people came up to the map we had displayed and asked “Where is it you can drive 75 miles per hour?” said with a dreamy, I’ve-got-to-do-that voice. When I explain that the 75 MPH area begins just north of Old Town and I point to where that is – about 3 ½ hours after you cross the border on 95 from NH, they get either a depressed droop of the shoulders or a determined I’m-gonna-go-there-someday look. 

The speed limit was raised last September.  The interstate is pretty darn straight and other than trees and the occasional deer or moose (see above) and the other drivers, there's a pretty clear path.  Here's some info about it from the Bangor Daily News.  The increased speed zone begins in Old Town and ends at the Canadian border in Houlton. 

True – you can visit up and down the coast’s quaint little harbors & coves

False – you can just meander along the coast, weaving in and out of the villages, snapping iconic photos along the way

Maine has 3500 miles of coastline. Do you realize how many “meanders” that is? A LOT! And if something looks like it’s only this far on the map, take into consideration the things I mentioned above, like traffic, and then factor in getting stuck behind a tractor or someone else looking for quaint harbors and plan to see a few in a day. If you actually get out of your car you might enjoy the experience more. Many times has the traveler laden with luggage poked a camera covered eye out of the passenger side window, snapped a photo for their “Maine” scrapbook, and drove off in a spew of dust and rock, anxious to get to the next place. There is a better connection waiting for you if you get out and walk around a bit. Check out the lobster boats and the general store. We’re a friendly lot. You might find something more interesting to take a photo of beyond the typical boats-in-the-harbor (although this is a very popular image, I must admit) scene. Smell the harbor . . . BE the harbor . . ok, I’m kidding there, but really, if you want a Maine experience, get out of the damn car!

True – Mainers have an accent

False – ALL Mainers have an accent

Some do, of course, have that Maine accent that is noted on the bumper stickers about not getting there from here. There are some people who personify the “Mainer” you see in commercials and movies. What you’ll find more than the stereotype is that most of us are like most of you. We like to have fun. We love our kids. We enjoy good food. We want to find some larger role to play in the world. Some of us have French accents from the large influence of French Canadian heritage. Some speak more than one language and those other languages can be Spanish or Sudanese. Or Arabic or Swedish. Just like the rest of the country, we're a mixed bunch of people, some born here and some "from away" who have made the choice to live here.  

The Maine accent is a real thing, but don't expect it from the first person you meet when you come to Maine. You're just as likely to meet someone whose path had led them there as you are to meet someone whose feet first hit the ground here.  For a few years, I worked in an office at the University of Maine in Orono where out of twelve of us, there were only four of us that were born Mainers.  That's only a third.  Everyone else had come here for other reasons.  One moved with her family from New Orleans when she was in middle school, the daughter of faculty.  Another moved here from Rhode Island when her husband's parents were ailing.  Someone else moved from Austin TX to Boston for his education then married a woman who became an economics professor.  My point is that you just never know where we are from originally and what brought us here to Maine.  But you can ask.  And we'll tell you.  And you might find that we have more in common than you originally thought.

Maine Tourism statistics show that 80% of the people who visit Maine the first time come back.  My guess is that they find so much to do, they end up making a list of what to do on their next trip.  Those choices are solidified by the great experiences they have with the people here.

So just come to Maine and see for yourself what we're all about. Visit anytime.

Some websites to help you out:

VisitMaine.com
The Maine Highlands
Visit Bangor Maine
The Maine Beaches
Maine Camping Guide


Send me your comments and your Maine "truisms".  I'll make it part of my Part 2 of this series about the real Maine.


   

Sidewalk Arts in the Rain

Fortune's Rocks Beach Biddeford, Maine - the day after

I’m new to the arts and crafts show circuit. That doesn’t mean I’m new to art or craft for that matter, just to the concept of setting up a temporary shop for a day, weekend, or even just a few hours to sell your work. In the past year, I’ve been assigned a space between a gourmet fudge maker and a Christmas wreath crafter, a handcrafted unique bird house designer and a whoopee pie baker, and a marshmallow gun carver and my friend Judy, who makes jewelry, and who is “not in this for the money. It’s just fun . . ” but outsold me by 300%.

I have learned a thing or two from these people, though, and from these events. By making mistakes and finding myself wishing I had brought X, I thought I was totally prepared for the show I did this past weekend in Southern Maine.

My table display

The one thing I needed the most and forgot to pack: my thick skin.

The one thing I wasn’t prepared for: disappointment.

The one thing I hoped wouldn’t happen and did: rain.

The one thing I had, but didn’t get much use out of: inventory.

No, I’m not especially spleeny (a good Maine word for frail, sensitive or easily hurt). And no, I’m not generally a person who looks at life with a glass-half-empty attitude.



But it rained. It poured. The brave ones came out to the show anyway and expected to see some serious art. My first sale of the day was my largest: $100 for one of my bigger, display pieces. The rest of my sales were smaller, but were certainly sales nonetheless. It’s just that there were so few of them. I guess I’m lamenting the fact that there were points in the day that I thought I’d cry from the frustration. Rain poured down the gully on the edge of the sidewalk. It dripped in from the metal poles supporting my just-bought-for-this-occasion beige canopy (without the side walls, because I couldn’t find matching ones, which turned out to be a valuable asset to those around me to keep their work dry when the rain came in sideways). Cars drove by and splashed the back of my table, the tablecloth, the gear I had stowed beneath the skirt.



And not that I can blame them, hardly anyone came. And of those who did, many said “ah, the Saco Sidewalk Art Festival . . it always rains . . “ and they’d shake their heads and give me a small grin, like I should have known or like I did know yet chose to come anyway.

my canopy covered show space

Reality is that you sign up for these events long before the extended forecast comes out. You pay the entry fee. You try to consider everything, every what if, or if not. You – or maybe it’s just me – research display ideas and find something that’ll work for your art. You think about how to pack the car for easy unloading and set up. You consider the phrasing of your signs. You dream about making a bunch of money and being able to call your husband and tell him how great it was and that you’re taking your parents out for dinner on your big earnings and how everyone ranted and raved about your work and you have orders for more work that’ll keep you busy until Christmas and you convince yourself this will be worth having given up your day job.

And then it rains.

And only the brave few come to the show.


And thankfully you make enough to just cover the entry fee and your gas.


And . . . you learn.



And you meet a few people and chat with them and bathe in the compliments.



You listen to their stories of this place or that one and how they shot this amazing sunset and oh here it is in my digital camera do you want to see it?



And your face hurts from smiling because despite all of that, you do like doing this.



And you’re happy about giving up your day job and spending the last four nights gluing mattes together and making signs.

And there’s a certain satisfaction when you back up and take a look at all you’ve created and think about the trail of an image to this point. How it goes from something you see through the viewfinder to your computer to the printer to the table with the glue and mat board to a finished product with your name on it that goes up on someone’s wall that they see every day and it makes them smile.

Ocean Park Beach Path Saco Maine

It takes a lot to put your work out there. Not only do you have to have confidence and pride in what you do or create, you have to have a marketing concept of some sort. You have to know no only what you sell, but how you sell. What kind of image do you intend to project? What psychological nerve do you want to touch in the people who walk by your booth? How are you going to get noticed, in a sea of white canopies and colorful signs? I don’t know the statistics on the amount of money spent by the typical consumer visiting an art or craft show. I understand that for someone to earmark some of their time and energy to going to one of these shows, they have to have an interest of some sort. Sometimes they drive long distances. Sometimes there’s an admission fee. Sometimes it takes the coordination of several friends or family members who enjoy this sort of event to decide to go together and make a day of it. I get it. These people have an investment into this before they even get to the gate. This earns them the right to some sort of expectation. Arts and craft show attendees want to see and buy things that are on a different level from the things on the shelf at Walmart. They want to meet the artists and talk to them about their art. They want a story to tell when someone asks them about the photograph of the sunflower they’ve hung in their living room.



My Dad asked me the next morning if I would do it again. I was sore from moving everything and standing on my wet feet all day. I was struggling to repack the car with items I didn’t sell. My patience was thinning. I had a long drive ahead of me and unpacking at the other end.




I said yes.

Tangled lobster buoy ropes on the beach

Life in Maine: Take the slow lane

Life in the slow lane. The way life should be. Maine. You see it all over the place. Those tourism slogans make it onto Tshirts, coffee mugs and road signs. Life in Maine can be wonderful. I will not argue that.




Many people dream of living here. There are website dedicated to moving here and a whole campaign by the state to encourage growth.

I was born here in Maine and for many years, I didn’t know anything about living elsewhere. When I was a child, we visited other states; had cousins in Connecticut, visited my sister and Army bound brother in law at Fort Campbell KY, and did numerous road trips to Boston, into New Hampshire’s White Mountains, and to Canada. It’s not like I didn’t get out of Maine. On the trips, my father would point out billboards, and always tell us “that’s something you don’t see back home.” Maine does not allow billboard advertising. Clutters up the view. He would encourage us to eat things that were not on the menu in Maine, like grits in Virginia.



When I was twenty one, I got married and moved to New Britain Connecticut. I likened the experience, at the time, to culture shock. The buzz of the streets. The noise at night. The crime on the news. There were things I had to adjust to like traffic. I enjoyed the choices I had there. The malls were nearby. There were so many restaurants and bars. Where I come from is in southern Maine, where the state’s population is mostly congregated, but still, Maine’s population dances around one million people, spread over the entire state. Maine itself is as big as the other five New England states put together. The greater Hartford area supports a million people. It took some getting used to.

In the first year living there, ATM machines were becoming more prevalent. The office I worked in had a fax machine, a novel new concept then. I felt smug and superior to the folks back home, thinking that technology couldn’t possibly be moving in THAT direction. When I visited Maine, it was to see my family and the changes that were taking place here went unnoticed. I lived in Connecticut for twelve years. During that time, I did what most young married people do: rented apartments, got pets, held a job in the city, bought cars, bought a house, had a baby . . . . whoa . . . that did it. The baby. I wanted to move home to raise my kid. When my daughter was born, I wanted to be near my family and that meant moving to Maine.



One of the first things I noticed, after having relocated to Kennebunk, was a gesture used between drivers that was nearly unknown in Connecticut: the wave, as in waving you into traffic so you don’t have to wait, and the wave, as in “thanks” for letting you through. People are NICE in Maine. People share a common courtesy amongst each other. It’s not so much a conscious thing. You don’t really start the day saying “how am I going to be nice to another human being today?” It’s not like that. It just is how we are. Treat people with respect. Let someone who is standing in line with a baby and an armload of groceries go ahead of you. Open the door for someone. Perhaps the “pay it forward” concept is in play here.

On my recent visit to southern Maine, we were driving – leisurely – around the beaches of Kennebunk and Kennebunkport. Just checking things out. Nice day. At a point just past the Bush compound in Kennebunkport, we found ourselves behind a few cars, being held up by some bicyclists. The roads were curvy and it’s difficult to see around the next bend, so passing them must be done with care. We were not in a hurry that day, but apparently the convertible from Massachusetts in front of us didn’t feel the same way. He accelerated and braked, his partner waving her hands and shouting, gesturing with exasperating. Clearly they couldn’t wait to get around the corner. We laughed at them, at their impatience on such a fine day. What’s the hurry?

And there is crime here, don’t get me wrong. But things that don’t even make the news in Hartford are front page here. Murders and robberies happen. People do hurt each other. We’re not immune from the bad things, but it seems that somehow, the daily little good things keep the balance.



So if you have a desire to move here don’t plan to bring along your grudges and impatience. Keep your anger and “me first” attitude packed, or better yet, don’t bring it with you. Prepare to have your own “culture shock” if you come here to live. Plan on checking in on your neighbor and having a chat in the super market, because though we all have emails to check and places to get to, it makes the day better for everyone if you do get into that slow lane for a bit.

If you're craving a bit of Maine, visit my photography website and check out my selection of Maine cards and prints.  http://www.celestecota.com/

Feel free to email me to order any of the images you see on this blog on on the website.  celeste@celestecota.com

Maine Travel: Kennebunk & Wells

When we left the house last Saturday, we had a few ideas of places we wanted to check out that day. We were in southern Maine, in Biddeford, and planned to head to Kennebunk and Wells.

Saturday was May 1st, and Mayday has been celebrated for centuries. In Kennebunk, this year marks the 12th Mayday Festival, always held the first Saturday in May. My daughter and I have attended the festival since she was in a stroller and it always proves entertaining. Some years the weather cooperates and some years, well, the chill or precipitation forces you to scurry from venue to venue and juggle hot drinks while enjoying the Maypole dance. The sunny, blue sky day we had this year was perfect for a street festival. Route 1 runs through downtown Kennebunk, and from the Kennebunk Free Library, through to Rotary Park, and on both sides of the street. The library hosts a bake and book sale and is home to the festival’s Fairy Garden and story time. A group of volunteers also helps little girls and boys make flowered wreaths to wear on their heads, complete with long colorful ribbons that trail behind them. Across the street, at the Brick Store Museum, kids can make their own May baskets. The museum offers a display of traditional may baskets, encased in glass, and set up a long table. Kids start at one end and select a small plastic cup like basket, then move down the rows, choosing from the other baskets on the table, filled with small items like colorful bracelets, foam airplanes, and rubber bouncy balls.

The Brick Store Museum wisely chose an alternate entryway this year. Rather than open one of the front doors and set up the basket making directly at the entry, curators had festival goers enter through a side door and wind through the museum to the table, passing displays and the donation box along the way. It gave me the opportunity to check out the museum, even go upstairs to see the portraits and lifestyle displays, and make a donation on the way out. In years past, we hurried in and out with our baskets, not seeing much of the interior of the buildings that are linked together by addition after addition, and occupy a sizable section of Kennebunk’s Main Street. Working our way down the street, we passed musicians, street vendors selling hot dogs, chili, coffee, cotton candy, and ice cream. Behind a gas station, wedged between Nason Ct and Grove Street off of Main street to the east is a large parking area, that on this day, and others throughout the summer, was an abundant farmer’s market. At this point in the season, most were selling potted plants, herbs, vegetables and some had brought the fruits of last years harvests, soaps and dip mixes, jams and jellies. Most years, a horse drawn trolley picks up and drops off here and provides a tour of the festival. I didn’t see it at this years celebration.

The highlight, in my opinion, of the Mayday festival is the Portland School of Ballet’s Maypole dance. The school brings young dancers to perform traditional mayday dances for the crowd that inevitably gathers in Layfayette Park. This year, festival organizers chose to move the craft vendors to this location, giving them more traffic than at their previous site, in Rotary Park, at the end of the festival area, generally used to stage the parade. Four maypoles had been set up in the grassy park, their colorful ribbons tied up until the time was right. The tallest was reserved for the dancers. They performed a few dances, then unfurled the ribbons and with choreographed steps, wound the ribbons until they formed a basket weave down the pole. Surrounding the maypoles and throughout the park, there was live music (provided by Tony Michaud and his band), a bounce house, a BBQ trailer, craft vendors, and demonstrations. The parade was at 1:30, but this year, we decided not to stay, although folks were lining Main street with their chairs, and garnering spots on the curb as we were leaving. My past experience with the parade is that it’s a fun time for the kids, with twirlers, clown driven tiny cars, fire trucks tossing candy, and the usual town dignitaries waving from convertibles. It is fun, but we had hunger and other things to attend to.

Our next destination was to find a place to grab a bite to eat, which, in the towns of Kennebunk and Wells, where we were headed, is really not all that difficult. But a quickie sandwich shop didn’t come into view before hunger overtook us. We passed the Maine Diner and noted that unlike in mid summer, the line at the door seemed relatively short. We doubled back and went in. The twenty minute wait turned out to be more like ten minutes and our party of five was soon seated at a table in the large room to the left of the main dining area.

The Maine Diner is an institution of sorts. Its celebrity visits and newspaper and television endorsements are lauded on the walls. Many make this a stop on their stay in Maine. The menu is diner fare with a decidedly Maine twist. Along with club sandwiches and breakfast all day, there’s the lobster macaroni and cheese, lobster pie and blueberry everything. My daughter and our friend’s daughter both ordered the kids macaroni and cheese (what else?). Our waitress told them that it came with muffins, either corn or blueberry. We commented that since it wasn’t noted on the menu, perhaps it was the diner’s way of getting rid of the morning’s muffins. Regardless of the motive, they were delicious. Our friend’s daughter got the corn, and my daughter got the blueberry. The girls sliced them open and buttered their insides. The tops were crunchy, with soft, tender, cakey insides. Perfect large muffins. The girls macaroni and cheese dinners came with very tasty, seasoned French fries. Our friend commented, after snatching a few from his daughter’s plate, that they were the best fries he had had in a long time. I force myself to try some from my daughter’s plate, for the sake of the review, and agreed. The macaroni and cheese was of the home baked, crunchy topped variety, not the blue box version that kids seem to favor.

Nonetheless, the girls finished theirs, minus their parent's nibbles. Our friend and I ordered the same thing for our lunch, the grilled yellow fin tuna sandwich. It arrived on a bakery bun, lettuce and tomato, with a side of tartar sauce. The Cole slow that accompanied it was creamy and fresh. The tuna itself was moist and tender and flaky, not a tough burger like sandwich at all. My husband had the tuna salad wrap and it was huge! Cut in half and served with potato salad, he struggled to finish it. We left the Maine Diner well fed. Would we go back? Of course, it’s a must in Maine and with so many items to choose from, everyone can find something. I would suggest you go for breakfast, too. Most of my past Maine Diner experiences had been for breakfast and though I can’t recall exactly what I ordered on those visits, I do remember fondly that they were delicious. Good strong coffee, too. The menu and hours can be found at http://www.mainediner.com/.



Next was our planned nature walk. I had printed off the information about both the Wells Reserve at Laudholm Farm and the Rachel Carson Wildlife Refuge. Simply because it was a right turn out of the diner parking lot onto busy route 1, we chose the Rachel Carson Wildlife Reserve.

Rachel Carson was a marine biologist, environmentalist, and author of several books, including Silent Spring, in which she linked unrestrained chemical dumping by industries to deathly consequences in the environment. She died in 1964 of breast cancer and is credited with beginning the environmental awareness revolution. The Wildlife Reserve was established in 1966 to preserve the salt marshes and estuaries for migratory birds. The walking paths are wide and well tended, and would be wheelchair accessible, with long inclines rather than steps along the way. At the entry area and parking lot, there are picnic tables. My husband commented that had we found a sandwich shop, this would have been the perfect place to have our lunch.

Several platforms have been built to view the marshes. Though not far from route 1, the area is very quiet and bird’s song is the only sound you hear other than your own footsteps. We watched a large group of geese paddle in from the estuaries, calling to each other as they waddled onto the grass. Fiddleheads were beginning to unfurl and flowers were blooming everywhere. It was a beautiful spring afternoon for a nature walk. The trail was relatively short and at a leisurely pace, we finished the loop in about 45 minutes. Just enough to have walked off our lunch. Information about the reserve can be found at http://www.fws.gov/northeast/rachelcarson/.

Spend a day in Wells and Kennebunk. Though the Mayday festival is held only once a year, there are many other things to do and eat. Another right turn, this time out of the Rachel Carson Wildlife Refuge will lead you back towards Kennebunk, this time on Route 9. You can follow this for a tour of Lower Village, Kennebunk, into Kennebunkport, past the Bush compound, into Cape Porpoise and the beaches of Biddeford. The roads are windy and afford stunning ocean views. Even as a native, I never tire of the scenery. If you decide to visit the area, check back here for some tips and sites to see that only this Mainer can give you. You can email me directly at celeste@celestecota.com or comment to this post.

Information about the Kennebunk area is available at http://www.visitthekennebunks.com/