Cod and chips

Just south of Boston is the small town of Quincy. We'd read that this was a quaint and historical town that is the birthplace and former residence of one of America's revolutionaries, John Quincy Adams.
We stay in what seems to be the only motel within our price range and soon regret it. All the rooms we take a look at have severe mould and/or water damaged ceilings and the receptionist is surrounded by plexi-glass, never a good sign. Still the quaint town we've read about might be lovely. Wrong. I getting tired of the self promotion of places as dire as this. It's just another 'could be anywhere dull' town. But, as it's Laura's birthday we decide to go into a nice looking restaurant, a bit of a feat itself in somewhere like this. The Japanese place was decent enough, although I'm pretty confident that the waitress and kitchen staff were Chinese. We eat huge amounts of sushi from a large boat shaped tray on our table whilst reminiscing about Japan.
We left Quincy's persistent rain the next morning after briefly stopping at the uninteresting home of John Adams.
On the road we stop off for fish and chips in a restaurant on the docks of Plymouth. Not bad either but that wasn't the real reason for stopping off here. Plymouth rock is supposed to be the point at which the Pilgrims first landed from Britain to start a new life. I say 'supposed' because in fact it's all bollocks. There is a rock, and even a replica Mayflower ship, but it was undergoing a make-over for future visitors. We learn that the rock at the landing point in fact was only named the landing spot a hundred years after the landing itself. Then the rock was split in half, half outside the town hall and half at the water's edge. A chisel was kept close by so visitors could knock a bit off for themselves to take home with. And then it turns out that a rock was never mentioned in the early reports of the landing. It goes on. We then discover the pilgrims landed further down the coast at Provincetown first and moved up here later. Even worse was the fact that a village even further down the coast had been inhabited for a year by struggling Brits. So you may come to think what is the point of Plymouth Rock and why is it so well known? I wonder this myself as we get back in the car from the rain and speed away from what is otherwise is a nice looking bay.
A few well dressed towns are passed through before stopping at the largest town on the peninsula named Cape Cod. The land mass is shaped like a muscular arm showing it's strength to the Atlantic. Cape Cod is a a popular holiday vacation area for the surrounding major cities. You can see why as there's 20-odd miles of undeveloped coastline that has been set aside for preservation under the national park scheme. Former president, JFK, designated this area to the national parks service, unsurprising as as he enjoyed many a break there with his family.
The weather has improved, blue skies and sunshine feel the norm here, and it feels good again to get away from a city.
We stroll along reed beds and beside inlets of clear water before it all opens out before us at one of the top 10 beaches in the country. A long undeveloped stretch of clean sand that meets more bluer than blue Atlantic waves. The wind is a bit chilly but that can't take away the beauty of this relatively deserted beach. A rarely seen red and white striped white house sits well back from the shore. I don't know why but I've always had an image of New England's coastline of lighthouses, rugged shorelines and pretty towns. All but the lighthouses is true. It turns out that adjacent to the lighthouse is the point at which the transatlantic telegraph line to Europe was attached. This reduced times of communication with Europe significantly but it didn't last long.
We follow the coast a bit along the road to the tip of the cape at Provincetown. This place is a gay haven, so we've heard, but it's also a rare type of town in the U.S. Narrow, one car-wide, streets weave between quaint buildings that lie metres from the water's edge. It's almost like a fishing town of coastal Britain but with loud fat Americans. It's a bit touristy but it looks nice enough. I keep wondering where the hell all the fish and chip shops are? We're right next to the Atlantic in towns with more fishing boats than cars and still not a chippy in sight. A small town like this has at least 3 pizzerias but not one chippy. There's a bit of an artsy theme going on, some better than others, around the residential streets and the spring scene of blooming cherry blossom trees helps the whole Cape look like colourful painting.
Right on the tip of the cape is a wooden tower that you can climb for great views of the peninsula and back towards Provincetown and it's high granite tower. Apparently, this is the tallest all granite tower in the world, who cares? It was built in tribute to the pilgrims that landed here from jolly England. It wasn't explained why there's a fair smattering of Portugese restaurants and flags dotted about the place.
We move on in search of an elusive portion of fish and chips and strike it lucky with the only place we see on the whole peninsula. There's a definite change in people's accents here. From the generic American accent we hear everyday a slight twang has appeared from Boston to here. The decent bloke in the chippy gives us a large portion to share and insists that our pancake-like fish batter is how they eat it in England, I disagree but it isn't too bad at all. The girl behind the counter then tells us about her fried burger meal that she'd eaten in Newcastle, 'Is that how you eat hamburgers in England?'. Odd.
Cape Cod is a picturesque line of beaches and towns and is worth a visit off-season. I imagine when the summer comes the place is bulging with the many vacationers from the large metropolises nearby. Fishing boats, lighthouses, blue ocean and whiteboard houses. Sounds like a watercolour right there.