Shopping!
Around noon we drove the eight miles into downtown Bar Harbor to walk the main street and check out the stores.
Finding parking for a Ford F-250 4x4 is not as easy as for a “normal” car. This thing is huge, and it has a turning radius to match. Bar Harbor is a quaint “little” town. Little town and huge truck normally don’t go together, but today the parking gods were with us and we found a great spot and it was simple to get into – it offered plenty of room in front of it so I could easily maneuver the truck into place.
And best of all the first shop closest to the truck was one dedicated just to men: The Man Store. All the paraphernalia inside was dedicated to the male of the species. I’ve seen most of it before, but it did offer some unique gifts, but all of them were over-priced. That’s the reality of life in a tourist town, where the nearest Wal*Mart is across the bridge on the mainland.
As I’ve said before, Marianne loves to shop. She can spend hours looking and touching everything that piques her interest in a store. She loves doing this. But it drives me crazy.It was explained to me that women are gatherers, and men are hunters. Women need to examine all the available goods to determine if any are worthy for their dowry. Men on the other hand know what they want, go to the specific store that sells the item, and then buy it. Down and dirty. Quick and easy.
Marianne’s way of shopping is painful for me since it’s mostly looking and not buying, so as soon as she veered into the first store that attracted her attention, I counterveered into an ice cream store and purchased a no sugar added cone, found myself a bench on the main street, and watched the world walk and drive by for the next 45 minutes.
I also took this opportunity to take some photographs of this picturesque downtown area.
When Marianne came up for air, I decided to join her shopping. I found a shop that had some “Acadia National Park” T-shirts in my size, and bit later I found a sweatshirt with the word MAINE across the front for $9. The hunter in me bagged these targets.
After a couple of hours of my hunting and Marianne’s gathering we headed back to the trailer and the dogs to recuperate.
All refreshed we headed across the street from the campground to a “lobster pound” place. This is where one can purchase lobster by the pound, either to have it cooked on the spot and eaten off of paper plates, or packaged to travel. We elected to eat ours on site.
The restaurant isn’t too much more than a drive-in shack, with plastic chairs and tables, both inside and out. Because the air was cool again, we elected to eat our dinner indoors. When we arrived, there was only one other couple eating, and they were outside, so we had the half-dozen white plastic tabled indoor dining area all to ourselves.
They advertised a $13.95 special: lobster with corn on the cob and coleslaw; a great deal, but the large lady behind the counter claimed that they were out of lobsters that were small enough to make this profitable for them, the typical bait and switch scheme. Instead we paid $18.95 each for two lobsters that weighed about 1-3/4 pounds each, which also came with the corn and slaw.
We got to pick out the lobster we wanted to eat. This is somewhat painful for me, since it’s a lot like going to the pet store and picking out a puppy, and then eating that puppy. Well, maybe not quite, since I didn’t try to make eye contact with my meal, nor did I play with it.
The winner, for you, or loser, for the lobster, is then immediately placed into a boiling tub of water, and in 15 minutes we were served our dinner. Before I dug into mine, I asked the lady what the proper way to eat this lobster was. She explained to me where I could find the most meat and how to get at it, while Marianne insisted I put on the plastic bib, since she’s seen me eat before.
The lobster was tasty, and as we left the table with lobster shells piled high, the restaurant became busier, good for the restaurant, bad for the lobsters.
With full stomachs we headed back to the trailer to digest and slumber.
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