We knew that we wanted to go to Maine. After all, we were staying in Boston for well over a week and after a few days we knew that we would have to get out of the city. However, knowing where to go was the problem. Still, Stephen King lives in Maine and if it's good enough for him, it's good enough for us.
Afte renting the car we got out the map. There it was-Maine. The only problem was, with two southern women and one British guy, not a one of us knew anything about the state. So where were we to go. Pulled over at a McDonalds with our 2 year old sleeping in the back, we studied the map intently, hoping something would jog our memory. Then, there it was-Kennebunkport.
"What's that?" my husband asked. I shrugged. I didn't know.
However, we liked the name and we liked the fact that it was on the coast. So, we gamely set out for it.
Upon arrival, we were met by a quaint, touristy-looking vilalge by the sea. There only seemed to be 2 streets but this didn't bother us. After all, we weren't looking for anything in particular. After we parked, we woke up the baby, went to the bathroom, and then set out to explore our first Maine town.
The town itself was charming. There were touristy shops, yes, but there were also small cafes, ice cream parlours, and the scent of the sea. After purchasing the requisite Maine-inspired apparel, we headed to the general store and bought tickets to the beach.
The water had been up so the sand wasn't very soft, but we didn't care. It was our son's first time at the ocean. He wasn't that impressed. He did like letting the water wash over his feet but our normally aquatic son was afraid of the waves. Still, we played on a nearly deserted beach for two hours, sans any kind of beach toys, and picked up rocks and shells.
We were in love.
We were so in love with the place, in fact, that we decided to ignore our $200 a night hotel back in Boston and instead stay in Kennebunkport for the night. We found a room for rent over the restaurant where we had eaten lunch and for $60 we settled in for the night.
In the evening hours, the town was quieter and more subdued. The tourists disappeared and we had the town to ourselves. We ate some ice cream, had a late dinner of lobster bisuqe, and then my husband and myself had some drinks while Grandma watched the little one.
The next morning, we met a woman in one of the gift shops. She said that she had driven up from Boston one day, found the town, and had never left. We understood.