tourist viewing

As my summer vacation progresses I continue to observe tourists that we run into on our travels. Of course I’m not denying the fact that we are tourists also. I am sure we are being watched by others. I certainly am being observed and commented upon by my son. He says he can spot a tourist at any distance. That’s not hard to believe, since basically most of the people that we are seeing here on Desert Island in Maine are tourists. I may not remember a particular place we went to, but the people we saw will generally stick in my mind.

 Most people that you meet in your travels are pleasant enough to say hello to you as they pass you, but don’t tend to get into great conversations. During a hike today, I ran into a couple, older than we were, that were speaking in what appeared to be german. I, being of German decent, decided to strike up a conversation to see if they did come from Germany. In response to my question, “Where do you come from?” came the answer, “from New York”. They asked me where I came from and I responded with Long Island, even though I know that I come from Shoreham, on Long Island. I figure that most people wouldn’t have heard of Shoreham, but would recognize Long Island.  Being that these people came from New York, they were familiar with Long Island and followed up their question with, “Where on Long Island?” Of course they hadn’t heard of Shoreham.  What was more interesting was when I asked them where in New York they lived, they said just over the George Washington Bridge in New Jersey. I mentioned the town just over the bridge and they said no, they live about 15 minutes away.  I guess this is sort of like how the football teams that play in New Jersey are called, New York Giants and New York Jets. Though you reside in New Jersey, because you are close to New York you can say you live in New York. Unless they felt that I might not have heard of New Jersey, and thought I might recognize New York.

 

Later on in the day we decided to go to the local Lobster Pound for dinner. A Lobster Pound is a place where you order your seafood at a counter and then pick it up when your name/number is called. We had been talking about having lobster all week and decided this was the place to get it. Of course going into a place and seeing all these lobsters crawling around in tubs and being picked up, weighed and sent off to be cooked, changed our minds about eating whole lobsters.  My son decided to have mussels, and my wife and I chose lobster rolls. It’s a lot easier to eat a lobster that you haven’t personally sent off to the hot tubs.  It was an okay place, not very memorable. There was one patron however that did stand out. He did his tourist best to remember his eating experience by using his rather expensive looking camera to take a picture of the lobster he chose while it was being weighed. I wondered if he did this often when he went out to eat. I picture him at MacDonald’s asking the counterperson if he could take a photo of the uncooked burger before they cook it. And when he goes to the Chicken Rotisserie . . .

 

So much for interesting people on this day. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

About hdh

I have been telling stories for over 40 years and writing forever. I am a retired teacher and storyteller. I hope to expand upon my repertoire and use this blog as a place to do writing. The main purpose is to give me and others that choose to comment, a space in which to play with issues that deal with storytelling, storytelling ideas, storytelling in education, reactions to events, and just plain fun stories. I explore some of my own writing throughout, from character analysis, to fictional, to poetry, and personal stories. I go wherever my muse sends me. Enjoy!
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