A trip to Salem and the 17th century, by ferry of course

Although it may not always seem like it we live in the 21st century. That's not a universal truth, apparently, as we found out from a recent trip to Salem, Massachusetts.

Memorial Day Weekend was a long one for most Americans -- although heaven forbid that we should actually celebrate the memory of our departed ancestors on the actual day itself -- and on Monday, a day off from work, Susie and I opted for a bit of a road trip.

Our plan centered on taking a boat trip somewhere and a quick scan of the available trips out of Boston pointed us in the direction of Salem. A fifty-minute, each way, and we could spend the day exploring one of New England's most famous (and to some, infamous) historic villages.

We drove an hour to Boston's Long Wharf, parked the car near the Aquarium, and worked our way through huge throngs of Asian tour groups struggling to get aboard the various harbor cruise boats. We soon found our catamaran and since we were a bit early opted to pop into the nearby Starbucks in the Marriott Long Wharf to a coffee. Just outside the hotel was a wedding couple having their photo taken -- whether they were going on a cruise was unknown to us; they certainly weren't on ours.



Fifteen minutes later we were back to the dock and on board, finding a good location inside, the weather being a bit overcast and windy. Before long we were pulling out of Boston Harbor and heading north scooting along the coast in search of Marblehead and Salem Harbor.



A little less than a hour later the boat docked at the little jetty in Salem and off we went. some travelers opted for the Salem Trolley but we were here to stroll and get a "feel" for the town. Our on-board guide had suggested we follow the painted red lines on the sidewalks which would steer us to all the significant attractions in the village -- and so we did, although we discovered that at the farthest point there was little to be seen. But that was still to come. Anyway, after leaving the wharf parking lot we turned up Derby Street and headed off in search of Salem proper.

A few minutes along our stroll we stopped briefly to peek into the gardens at the House of the Seven Gables -- indeed, author Nathaniel Hawthorn is probably the most well-known favorite son of Salem; while his popularity, in these parts at any rate, seem high, I could never get past his dense prose.


Anyway, we soon came upon a somewhat cheeky example of what symbolizes in most people's mind Salem: a witch.  And indeed, there are business, theaters, museums, shops everywhere having to do with witches, witchcraft, witch history, and of course numerous places, some rather large, offering psychic healing, tarot readings, well, you get the drift.

note the red line -- messy but helpful - and you'r right, Kosciuszko is also the name of a bridge on I-87 near Albany, New york
Continuing our walk up Derby Street toward the village center we came upon the maritime historic site. Located directly across from the old customs House and operated by the National Park Service a walk around the old sailing ship is free and open to the public.


customs house . . . and if your around you'll see:



"public conveniences" as they were called in Oakham, England and convenient indeed
Unfortunately, the "Orientation Center" for the maritime historic site was closed so we pushed on skirting many tourist gift shops selling pretty much what you'd expect in a seaside community dominated by sailing and witchcraft: t-shirts and sweatshirts reminding you and everyone around you that yes, indeed you had been to Salem. Or at least got a sweatshirt from there.


Just off of Derby Street we turned up a short boulevard where we found a curious juxtapositions of memorials: the first was a statue of Theobald Matthews (1790-1856, "apostle of temperance," the second was a memorial to the boys from Immaculate Conception parish who perished in "The World War" and whose school was directly across the street; and finally a statue of Nathaniel Hawthorne



And speaking of memorials, our first objective was the one commemorating those who had been hung and the one who had been "pressed to death" after being convicted as witches in 1692.

As we approached the memorial, located next to the Old Burying Point both of which were tucked behind a couple of garish witch-oriented businesses, we spied this little sign reminding the visitor that Salem's history is almost as old as that of the old Bay Colony itself:


A few dozen yards along we found ourselves in this lovely spot of green common, a shrine if you will to those men and women who had been put to death rather than admit to a crime for which they were not guilty. (As we were given to understand, those who admitted to being witches were let go, albeit with heavy penalties, while those who refused to admit to any such thing were put to death.)

Etched onto each bench in this rectangular bit of walled-in grass is a name, date of death and manner of execution: "Bridget Bisop, hanged, June 10, 1692," "Giles Corey, pressed to death, Sept. 19, 1792."







We paid our respects to each person and then walked through the small gate into the Old Burying Point of Salem. This a wonderful place to connect all the historical dots in much of Salem's early life as well as collect some fascinating memories (epitaphs); and you won't find better examples of New England funeral symbolism.



While there is no printed map available, there is this handy stone map to find the most important gravesites:




From the Burying Point we continued on our way into downtown, walking past Derby Square and the old city hall.

We also found way past the spot where once stood the first church in Salem, erected in 1629, and the First Meeting House, which operated from 1634-1673. Before he was banished from the colony and made his way to Rhode Island, Roger Williams was the first to preach here.


As it was nearly lunchtime we began our hunt for someplace to sit outside and grab a sandwich. We found just the place in the Village Tavern, located just across from the Peabody Essex Museum. Susan had a tasty grilled chicken Caesar salad, I had the equally delicious pulled pork sandwich (all smoked meats were done in-house); we washed it all down with microbrews from somewhere in upstate New York.




Part of the Peabody, directly across from the restaurant's terrace was the East India Marine Hall, once an exclusive club whose members were ships' captains who had successively sailed around the world. We would soon see the hall from the inside.


Between the East India Marine hall and our restaurant was this bit of interesting sculpture representing Salem in a series of reliefs we were hard-pressed to get it. But the kids didn't seem to care and just enjoyed laying on it.


One of the main streets is now pedestrianized (is that even a word?) and makes it easy to get to numerous shops selling witch clothing, witch paraphernalia, witch t-shirts and just about anything else having to do with haunting, ghosts and the macabre.


view of the Village Tavern's outdoor seating from the street
After lunch we walked across the street and into the entrance of the Peabody Essex Museum. The Peabody emanates a clean minimalism; its small and easy to navigate with a variety of interestingly shaped spaces for their collections. Bit it's the collections that left us feeling a bit minimalist ourselves. No European art and very little American art; what they do have is scattered within what they call American Decorative Art. The Maritime Art section was nice the temporary exhibition of California Design from the 1930s through the 1960s was quite well done and we thought engaging.

museum entrance

just inside the entrance was this Studebaker Avanti followed by. . . 

this airstream Clipper

part of the Maritime Collection

as was this "wedding" dress made out of seashells


the atrium cafe

interior of the East India Marine Hall - paintings of the members on the right and their ships on the left

part of the California design exhibition -- very nicely hung clothing made them seem to float 



Once we left the Peabody we picked up the red line and continued heading away from the town center, finding yet another memorial. What community dedicated to the tackiest of witchery would be complete without a statue honoring that loveliest of witches herself: Elizabeth Montgomery of "Bewitched." Thank heavens they skipped the one to Darren. . .


Near the outermost edge, the far end if you will, of the red line we came across the "Witches House". In fact, it's the former home of Judge Jonathan Corwin and is the only structure remaining in Salem that has direct ties to the witchcraft trials of 1692.


The red line turned around and heded back into downtown proper. At one point, and breaking the rule, we left the line to go and have a seat on a bench overlooking the very large and very green Salem Common.

But it was soon time to head back to the dock and catch our 4pm ferry back to Boston, The sun had finally come out, the air was warm and it was nice being back on the coolness of open water. We dock a little less than an hour later and after picking up our car we made our way back to Providence.


in line to board


leaving the dock

the Salem coal fired power plant







A wonderful way to spend a Memorial Day: paying our respects to the memorial outside the VFW in Salem and to those 19 men and women who perished long ago defending their right "to be right."

Au revoir! The French Tarte closes up shop for good


The French Tarte has closed her space in Hope Artiste Village. She did what she set out to do: own her own pastry and teaching studio where she could make the pastries she wanted when she wanted and sell them to people who walked away happy; and along the way teach other like-minded folks how to make their own delicious French-style treats at home.

It was really that simple.

For the time being she's planning on continuing private classes and special orders.

Stay tuned!

Oh, and just in case you'd forgotten. . .
cherry almond turnover


flan parisien - vanilla bean custard
berry almond Breton tart
caramel nut tart
the large version
pear ginger financier
Bouchon - buttermilk cakes rolled in butter and coriander sugar
chocolate hazelnut torte
chocolate moelleux
lemon ricotta cake
orange olive oil cake
apricot flan bun
croissant aux amandes
apple tart

April 30 - Leaving England and arriving in Providence

Terminal 5, A concourse
Tuesday morning began with warm sun and clear skies; a great day for flying. The four of us had a leisurely morning (nothing new there) over breakfast, and chatting about future travel plans; we're tentatively hoping to meet together in northern France, along the Somme battlefields sometime in early fall of 2015.

The rest of the morning was spent packing and getting ready for our respective flights: Richard and Pauline off to Toulouse to pick up their car and drive to Mouchan; Susie and I off to Heathrow and Boston Logan airport.

We said goodbye to Ellis Fields at about a quarter to one and in less than three-quarters of hour were at the drop off in front of British Airways at Terminal 5. After hugs all around we piled our bags on a trolley and pushed our way through the doors and inside, waving as Richard and Pauline pulled out into traffic on their way to Gatwick Airport and their EasyJet flight.

Once inside the terminal, which is roughly the size of Rhode Island, we began the search for our flight on the departure board. Since we were unable to check in online (for reasons that would soon become clear) we tried checking in at one of the many thousands of kiosks scattered about the terminal. The machine prompt informed us that we would need to take the coupons it kindly printed out to a desk in section A since it was impossible to continue the check in process electronically.

Ten minutes later we had our boarding passes in hand — even before the flight was listed mind you — and scooted through security in less than 20 minutes. We strolled a bit of the terminal before making our way to the 2nd floor where we sat down for lunch at Wagamama’s noodle bar. After a scrumptious meal and killing some time, we made our way to our gate.

The flight boarded on time and we found ourselves seated in the very first row of our section, which meant we had plenty of leg room.

The flight was uneventful with virtually no turbulence, and although the food mediocre the attendants were friendly and the visual entertainment pretty good. Our 6.5 hour flight passed quickly and we landed on time in a rainy, chilly Boston. After spending 20 minutes or so working our way through Border Control, we got our bags, passed through customs and out in to the main terminal.

We called for our shuttle from the Holiday Inn and they arrived about a half hour later. Upon reaching the hotel I made my way to the top level of the parking garage — having the good sense to remember to bring the pass codes with me to get into the building.

We loaded our bags into the car and headed off onto US 1 to I-93 and then I-95 south to Providence. After a quick stop at a grocery store for milk and bananas we were home by 10pm and in bed by 10:30, although not quite certain of exactly what time it was. Two things were certain: the trip had been truly fantastic and we were both tired.

Family gathering in Manistee

We hadn't been home two weeks from our trip visiting family in New England before we were back on the road again, this time catching up ...