Sunday, November 4, 2007

Plimoth Plantation

Yes, that is the correct spelling. Plimoth Plantation is located in Plymouth, MA. The Pilgrims couldn't spell for shit.

I live at, oh, let's call it 123 Soda St. There's a lady named K. who lives at, oh, let's call it 123 Sheboopie St. The two words begin with the same letter but don't look alike, don't sound alike, and aren't even the same size; the streets don't intersect and aren't even next to each other. I sometimes get K's mail. In fact, sometimes I will even get two copies of the same catalog - one addressed to her, and one addressed to me. I call her and ask if she wants the mail, and she comes and picks it up, or not.

To thank me for this very small favor, K. offered me some passes to Plimoth Plantation, where she works. At first I was timid about taking them, but when I realized she had a whole stack of them and a sincere desire to get rid of them, I took a bunch. My sister loves the place, and her kids have never been there. (I haven't been there myself since 1988. For some reason it was required for a class I was taking. It was a very cold, windy day and the people I went with were tripping on acid. They kept saying "road trip, heh heh heh.")

The first thing we saw that got a reaction out of one of the kids was a gate with a "Staff Only" sign. Only the littlest one was interested, but he was so excited about it, I wanted to take a picture. But the camera wouldn't cooperate. This is a completely different gate; it's just a coincidence that it had my niece's name scrawled on it. All three of them wanted in on this picture. My sister told them not to make faces. This is them not making faces. (Note the soda bottles. I didn't know they had Dr. Pepper in 1627!)

I have another niece, but I didn't get a picture of her today. That's because I already have a bunch on my phone... but I can't figure out how to get them off of my phone except by emailing them, which I've been too lazy to do.

This guy was making a canoe by burning the guts out of a tree trunk. Apparently, if they keep the fire burning continuously day and night (with someone watching it at all times) they can have a canoe in seven days; but they'd only do that if they really needed one in a hurry. He had some other interesting things to say, but I didn't hear all of it because my nephew kept saying "Ma-ma. Ma-ma! Mama! You can see his butt! Dad! Dad! You can see his butt. Julie, look. You can see his butt..." (Actually, you could only see his hips.)

I didn't get a picture of the Wampanoag guy who was telling us about the time the settlers found their corn, which they had buried for safekeeping, and took it. Evidently, the settlers felt that the corn had been a gift from God, and naturally that gift had been meant for them. They were so happy with this gift that they came back with some well-armed friends and helped themselves to more gifts, including a lot more corn and some other choice items. Eventually, for the sake of making peace, they promised to pay for it... but they never quite did.

I'm not sure what this lady's story was. I couldn't hear most of what she was saying because there were a lot of kids in that hut, chattering. She was covered in animal skins, as were all the benches. She kept looking at people who were holding cameras; I appreciated her cooperation, but I actually did not want to blind her, so I waited for her to look away. My first photo was out of focus because the auto-focus was grabbing spectators' heads; after most of the people filed out I got a much better picture. ("Better" being a relative term since it's still pretty awful.) If it looks overexposed, it's because I had to brighten it after the fact; the original is way too dark. As for that sparkly crap in the foreground, it's ashes from the fire, I guess. I didn't even notice it at the time.

I suppose I should mention that, although the "English settlers" remain "in character" at all times, pretending that it's 1627 and avoiding modern slang, the Wampanoags do not. I'm pretty sure they didn't have Lenscrafters back then. Nor Levi's like you see around the woman's ankles in the next photo.

This is somebody's lunch. It's a rabbit, and if you ask me it's overdone. (The pot had only water in it.) I'd love to be able to tell you that the rabbit smelled great, but in truth all we could smell was the smoke from the campfire and the fire in the canoe. Since that's a smell we associate with barbecue anyway, the whole Wampanoag site smelled great!

I didn't take any pictures in the settlers' village because, well, frankly I forgot. If I had photographed anything, it would have been the chamber pots. My nephews wanted to know why there were weird little ceramic bowls under each bed, and they were very excited to hear what they were for.

We admired other pottery items in the village; there were some for sale in the craft center gift shop. Unfortunately, the power had gone out in that building, and they weren't able to process credit cards. And although I normally carry a checkbook, I had left it at home. (I had blown my paltry cash on lunch.) I figured we could still get the ceramic things (my BIL wanted a three-handled cup, and I wanted a double-decker candle holder) at the main gift shop, which had electricity, but they didn't have the pottery we wanted there.

Instead I got four huge soup mixes and a big piece of maple candy, which added up to about the same as that one candle holder anyway.

Tomorrow: A five-hour Webex training session (on process improvements) from 10 to 3 in a conference room, with no break for lunch. They're going to pause just long enough for us to get our lunches out of the refrigerator and bring them back to the training room so that we can continue to nourish our minds. Oh, and did I mention my Check Engine light is on? If I'm lucky, maybe I'll break down on the side of the road and not have to go to my training.

Useful Spanish of the day
ponerse las pilas
("Put on the batteries" - i.e. get your ass in gear - something you might say to lollygagging children who are more interested in inspecting stones they find on the ground than in the interesting things around them, as if they can't find the exact same kinds of stones in their backyard)

2 comments:

  1. I find Sturbridge is slightly more engaging for young children than Plimoth, although if I remember correctly from the last time I went with a small group of children, the cannon in the fort were very exciting. I think to really enjoy Plimoth, you have to talk to the people in character. It also helps to visit the Mayflower and the wax museum (they're in Plymouth).

    When we went to Plimoth, K wanted to play with the fake food on the tables, and that was about it.

    At Sturbridge, as at Mystic seaport (I think it's possible they spell that oddly as well), there are period games for the children to play, such as hoops. If it's a lovely day, as it has been the last few times we went to both places, then it's really fun to be outside playing with the turn-of-the-century toys. Mystic also has a planetarium, which usually puts me to sleep, but they have a show on navigation which is interesting, and I got to look through a sextant there -- a big thrill for me because of my interest in the Aubrey/Maturin series by Patrick O'Brian. I really like Mystic, maybe your nieces and nephews would enjoy it some time, if you can manage to get the mail of somebody who has passes delivered to you instead!

    (Actually, libraries usually have passes. That's how we go to NEA and the children's museums usually. We bought a membership in the science museum, and that's really fun for kids.)

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  2. The kids have been to all those places. My niece likes just about everything, but the boys aren't interested in anything they can't hit with a stick. So unless someone opens a pinata museum, it's not worth it.

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