Every once in a while I’m sent on a trip that requires very minimal time in the field. Yesterday, for example, I spent 11 hours traveling from my home in Michigan to Boston, MA so that this morning I could get up, do two hours worth of work, and call my mission accomplished. Tomorrow I will spend another 11 hours traveling back home. Seems a little silly, but when the client provides only one site, then only one site gets done. For me, however, these are the best of trips. I typically try to get out of bed by 7am so I can have everything work related all wrapped up by 10am. That leaves the remainder of the day to see the sights.
This is my third such marathon trip to Boston (or Bahston as the locals call it). The first time around, I spent a full day walking the Freedom Trail and checking out the city. The second trip, I spent time in Rockport and Gloucester. Today’s highlights were Salem and Marblehead. The first by plan the second by accident.
I left the site at around noon today and drove towards Salem. I am somewhat of a closet historian. I have a thing for historic architecture and I think most of the true stories from the past are far more intriguing than anything our modern fiction writers come up with. Of course, I don’t go about proclaiming my love for history, so it might come as a bit of a surprise. In any case, I decided Salem was calling my name. Witches and persecutions seemed a tantalizing combination and a good way to spend a beautiful afternoon. Upon arrival in Salem I reached a fork in the road (route 114 to be exact) in which a rather large sign pointed right for Salem Witch Museums and left for Marblehead. There is another thing that might (or after reading my blog, might not) come as a surprise. I have a tendency to make flash decisions on the spot, particularly when it comes to navigation. In fact, sometimes the decisions are made in such a hasty fashion that even I don’t realize I’ve made them until after the fact. Such was the case at that fork in the road. My brain said “turn right” all the while my hands turned left. Before I knew what was going on, I had run out of road at the end of Marblehead just before Fort Sewall.
Since there’s free parking at the end of the road, and since the water is right there and since the sun was shining so brightly, I figured I might as well get out and have a look around. So for a couple of hours today, I wandered the narrow colonial streets of Marblehead. It was absolutely stunning with the trees in full spring blossom and the houses all painted so vibrantly. The streets are largely one way given their lack of berth and they wind and curve and cross each other at varied and odd ways. At times I thought I might lose my way, but no one’s ever truly lost if they’re near habitation, so I kept wandering and enjoying the day.
The buildings in Marblehead, for the most part, lack any cubic fashion and are often constructed into the corners of connecting streets, or straight up out of jutting bedrock. It’s like someone set the livestock free, used their trails to plant the roads, and then constructed the buildings to fit the open spaces. But the relatively small town overflows with character and charm.
After a couple hours, I wandered back to my car and drove back to Salem. Witches and persecution were still calling my name. I parked next to the Salem Green and took off walking in a random direction. After strolling in circles for a bit, I came across the Salem Witch Museum. Which, oddly enough, is in a remodeled church. It costs $8.50 for adults to enter the “two part program”. Everyone is showed into this large room where dioramas are lit up and a recorded voice tells the history of the Salem Witch Hunts. Then everyone is moved like cattle through a door at the opposite end of the room into a small museum where a guide explains the displays. Then everyone is once again moved like cattle through another set of doors into the requisite gift shop where all of the items for sale depict witches more like the wicked one from the west than the ones you would have anticipated in colonial america. I had to wonder if anyone ever asks for their $8.50 back. I left the museum feeling someone jipped and not any wiser as to what really happened in Salem. But, the day was still bright and beautiful and I had time on my hands, so I wandered around a bit more. It didn’t take me long, unfortunately, to have my fill of Salem. The buildings lacked the warm inviting quality of Marblehead and a solid 90% of the shops were hocking wiccan wares and stereotypes of black cats and broom sticks. It amazed me how effectively the town of Salem turned one of the darkest moments in American history into a gaudy tourist trap.
Aside from a quick look at the Friendship of Salem tall ship (again one of my weaknesses), Salem really isn’t worth your time. But if anyone gets a chance to spend some time in Marblehead, I would suggest it be done. I can’t wait to get back during the summer months when all the boats are moored in the coves and harbors and the true life of that quaint colonial fishing village comes alive. But for now, it’s off to bed with me and up in the morning to catch the first flight home.
