Dos and Don'ts for Tourists

 JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: It's that time of year when we welcome peoples from all over the US and abroad to Vacationland, i.e., Maine. (If you're planning on visiting, please ignore what I said Monday about it being a cold summer. It's perfect.) We genuinely like to see folks traveling here, loving the same landscape and waters we love, and, to be perfectly honest? we need your money. 

 

(Separate note: we especially love our neighbors from the North, but we understand and empathize with your reasons for not visiting this year.) 

However! Having lived for close to four decades in a tourist destination (and for four years in DC before that) I have some dos and don'ts for you that will make the difference between Mainers saying to each other, "Gosh, weren't those nice folks?" and slashing your tires when they see your out-of-state license plates (Ha! Ha! No, we only did that during the early days of Covid.)

 

Don't feed the sea gulls. Yes, I know they seem beautiful and graceful and that you read Jonathan Livingston Seagull when you were 12. They're rats. Aggressive, feathered rats.

 

Do merge a half-mile (at least) before the actual merge point. We see you, with your out-of-state plates, zooming past all the Mainers who got into the right lane as soon as they saw the MERGE sign. We are judging the heck out of you.

 

Don't wear jewelry on the beach. This isn't the Jersey Shore. 

 

Do park in the appropriate spot. Yes, you may have to walk a little farther. But it's probably a lot less expensive than it is where you come from, and trust me, the local cops or sheriff's deputies will be wicked keen to have you towed out of Skip Tarbox's driveway.

 

Don't try to imitate a  Maine accent. Please. I beg you. There are third and fourth generation Mainers who can't do the accent. Neither can you.

 

Do wear the lobster bib. Yes, it's silly. But that delicious treat is messy, and you don't want to have butter stains sitting on your shirt until you get back home.

 

Don't show up dressed head to toe in brand new LL Bean clothing. Beat up old LL Bean clothing is acceptable, as is one new item with the rest of your outfit suitably worn, verging on shabby. See: not the Jersey Shore, above.

 

Do ask how to crack the lobster. The locals next to you are willing to help! We love introducing visitors to our iconic dish.

 

Don't get to close to the sea in rough weather. We have some lovely sandy beaches. We have a lot more stony, granite-boulder stretches that can be genuinely dangerous under certain conditions. If you see a warning sign, yes, this does mean you.

 

Do shop like the locals, at Reny's and Mardens. Reny's is "out" as a Maine staple, and you'll actually see people in New York and DC wearing their labeled gear. There are no labels at Mardens, but it has wicked great bargains and a jingle everyone in Maine can sing. 

 

Don't drink and boat. Do you want to come home tired and happy from your vacation? Or do you want to come home in a box? Those lakes are deeper and much colder than you think.

 

Likewise, Do be aware the ocean is friggin' cold.  The Gulf Stream, which makes the Jersey Shore so warm and delightful, is way the heck off the continental slope up here. The average water temperature in August is 61° to 64° (16° to 17°.)

 

Don't amble across Route One. Like, you don't have to run, but be as brisk as possible. We're trying to get places, people.

 

Do visit some out of the ordinary locations. Maine is more than the ten mile strip along the Atlantic. Check out a concert in Bangor, or the slow pace in the Lakes Region, or the charming towns near the southern NH border, like Cornish and Fryeburg.

 

Don't think you can get ahead on Route One by speeding and passing. It's a two lane road, bub. Cool your jets.

 

Do wear sunscreen!  The sun can also kill you, though not as quickly as being foolish around water.

 

Don't write articles about how quaint and idyllic our life is. There's a whole genre of newspaper commentors who come to Maine and then produce lovely, poetic paeans to the peaceful, authentic way of life and how noble and wise the natives are. Yes, our state motto is "The Way Life Should Be." But it's idyllic because you're on vacation, bub. Come to my house in January and you'll sing a different friggin' tune.

 

How about you, dear readers? Any suggestions for when we visit your neck of the woods?  

Aging Is Like Puberty, And About As Much Fun

Happy Canada Day to all our Northern Neighbors!          

 

 

 

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: I had my annual checkup with my NP recently, and discovered once again almost every physical change or symptom I experience is something "you can expect as you get older." (Did I mention my NP is literally young enough to be my son? Of course he is. Medical practitioners my age are frickin' retiring.)

Trouble with insomnia? "You can expect that as you get older." Bouts of vertigo when I lie down and get up?  "You can expect that as you get older."Acid indigestion? "You can expect that as you get older." I expect if I told him I was growing a second head, I'd find out that, too, is just one of those things that happen as you... you know the drill.

I've been thinking about the last time my body ran away with me - puberty - and decided the physical process of maturing has a lot of similarities with what happens as we age, except that after puberty we get to drink and have sex, while after completing aging... again, you know the drill.

Puberty: I am horrified to find the skin on my face, to which I had never given any thought other than to make sure it was washed, is embarrassing and betraying my by breaking out in zits.

Aging:  I am horrified to find the skin on my face, which I have been lavishing with elaborate and expensive serums, moisturizers and sun screens, has creases that don't iron out and has broken out in solar lentigines, AKA liver spots. 

Puberty: Oh, no, my boobs are getting as big as my grandmother's!

Aging: Oh, no, my bunions are getting as big as my grandmother's!

Puberty: I wake up once a month wracked with cramps. (My first time, when I come downstairs complaining, my mother dances around the kitchen singing, I Enjoy Being A Girl.) 

Aging: I wake up once a month wracked with cramps. I have dared to eat a little too much of whatever food substance my body's decided is verboten right now. Sadly, no on sings and dances in the kitchen.

Puberty: I worry a lot about nuclear war.

Aging: I worry a lot about nuclear war.

Puberty: My joints ache as they strain to keep up with my bones growing three inches in height annually for three years.

Aging: My joints ache from arthritis. Oh, and I've lost three inches in height! What the hell, bones?!?

Puberty: I experience a mix of panic and excitement with I think about cute boys in my middle school.

Aging: I experience a mix of panic and excitement when I think about the balance in my stock and bond portfolio.  

Puberty: Whenever I'm feeling scared or misunderstood or overwhelmed, I escape into books. My fictional friends always make me feel better.

 

Aging: Me too, 14-year-old Julie. Me, too. 

 

 Dear readers, what is your time of life akin to?

Happy Conclave to All Who Celebrate

This Friday will be a Cat-alogue of Pupdates, so please send in pic of your furry friends to juliaspencerfleming care of Gmail, using the subject line "Pet pics."

 

 

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Today's the day the eligible cardinals (under the age of 80) get locked into the Sistine Chapel (and the Domus Santa Marta guest house) to pray, talk, argue with each other and vote - repeatedly - for one of them until they land on the man to be the next pope.

Why is this conclave different from all other conclaves? Because the October 2025 movie CONCLAVE has been seen by about a gazillion people all over the world (it's free on Amazon Prime right now! Check it out!) and now we are ALL experts on the whole Papal election scene. From the wax door seal, to the rounds of votes on very, very nice card stock, to the little groups of cardinals puffing away on cigarettes, we've got this down.

I grew up extremely Catholic-adjacent. My dad used his Tridentine missal his whole life. My sister and her family are Catholic, and my three kids attended Catholic schools. Despite this, I don't think I ever heard anyone paying much attention to a conclave, other than in prayers at mass.

 

 

But now, thanks to Robert Harris's novel-turned-movie (read the book, too! It's excellent!) everybody is tuned into the ancient and arcane process by which a group of mostly old guys (120 out of the 135 voting cardinals are between 60 and 80) discerns who next takes the Apostolic See (from the Latin sedes, meaning 'seat.')

Here are a few fun facts to throw around at your next dinner party (but make it fast, because over the past century conclaves have averaged 2-3 days before acclaiming a new pope.) 

 

Cardinals have been getting together to pick a new Holy Father since 1059, and the process is the oldest still-extant way of electing the leader of a state. It's a little state, but still.

 

 The word conclave derives from the Latin cum clave, 'with a key,' a refinement that started in 1274 after outsiders' lobbying became so noxious, Pope Gregory X decreed the medieval version of Project Graduation.

 

Gregory X himself had been elected after the longest conclave ever - a few months shy of three years. Eventually, the frustrated residents of the town the cardinals were meeting in locked the building, tore its roof off, and reduced their meal delivery to one a day. That got things moving pretty effectively.

 

Before the guest house was built in 1996, cardinals were put up in cots stuffed into rooms near the Sistine chapel.  Eventually, someone realized collecting a whole bunch of elderly men in an area with inadequate sanitary facilities was a bad idea. 

 

In modern times, the Sistine Chapel has been swept for bugs and wireless signal jammers are used to prevent any communication from the outside world. Which makes it tough for any cardinals who are regulars on Instagram, I guess.

 

 Apparently, one of the goals of the electors is to hit the sweet spot in papal age: old enough to lead for a time without being a generational presence, but young enough not to, well, you know. Throughout the history if the church, 26 popes were, unfortunately short-timers (3 days to 6 months) but 25 sat on the chair of St. Peter for  20-31 years. That averages out nicely, so good job, your Eminences!

 

Dear readers, this is where I usually ask a question for you to respond to, but honestly, I can't think of any that wouldn't have made me dad give me the side-eye. Tell me what you think in the comments!

Good Sports

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: It’s the 2024 Summer Olympics, as we mentioned earlier this week, and if you’re watching, you’ll notice a few new  sports included. Kayak cross and breaking, aka break dancing will be debuting, and surfing, skateboarding and sport climbing will appear for the second time since ‘21.

 

The IOC has an official policy of introducing game-specific sports to maximize local interest and growth, and an unofficial policy of trying desperately to keep a younger audience. (Most recent polling has 66% of Americans above 55 with a tradition of watching, with 62% of viewers 18-34 saying the same. And if you don’t think that 4% is significant, you’ve never worked in television.)

 

So for the 2028 Games in Los Angeles, baseball/softball will be played again after being dropped in ‘09, while flag football, lacrosse, squash and cricket will be added. I’m not sure about cricket being of local interest in southern California, but I’m sure the NBC announcers will be able to clearly explain the rules and play for the American audience. (Picture me with a dubious look.)

 

If we’re allowed to vote, I’m going to kick water polo off the list of current sports. You can never see any of the action with all that water flying everywhere, and the sight of handsome young jocks wearing skimpy Speed-oes isn’t enough to make up for it. 

 

In exchange, I propose this Millennial/Gen Z pleasing competition: the dash between the athlete’s main job and their side gig. This would take place in a city setting, like road cycling, and would involve the contestants dashing from their day job to a fast food place to grab dinner to their evening side gig, with bonus points for having to change into a uniform along the way.

 

Hey, if breakdancing is a sport…

 

How about you, Reds? What sport should get the boot, and what would you like to see instead?

 

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Multitasking!  Just like the decathlon, contestants are given TEN things to do, and whoever accomplishes them fastest wins. 

 

Events will include: 

1.     doing a load of laundry (degree of difficulty points given for sorting)

2.    making a dinner for four for a vegan, a veg, a paleo and a keto and having it all be finished at the same time, 

3.     finding hidden car keys, 

4.     finishing a chapter of edits, 

5.      posting on four social media platforms with DIFFERENT posts, 

6.     taking a shower and getting dressed again

7.     finding the matching socks in a huge pile of socks

8.     Remembering three birthdays and sending the cards

9.     Submitting a set of travel expenses (degree of difficulty points for finding all the receipts)

     10) Defrosting a freezer and putting everything back in and have the door still close.

 

What do you think? It’s THE TASKATHON!

 

RHYS BOWEN: That’s a brilliant list, Hank!  Julia, you may not take out water polo! We are a family of water polo players: 4 college division 1 players, three Olympic development players, one junior US team captain and a 3 time All American. So do not touch it. And it’s exciting to watch.

 

No to breakdancing. How ridiculous. It might be clever but not a sport. Also not a sport is rhythmic gymnastics. Twirling a ribbon, throwing a hoop belong in a circus.  But on that note, how about trapeze as a sport? That would be exciting to watch.

My own sport addition is the microwave challenge. Can you put a cup of coffee in the microwave to reheat and in that time rush down the hall, pee, and come back before it pings? I am a champion at this, I must tell you.

 

DEBORAH CROMBIE: How about the Mealathon? The contestants would have to plan a week’s meals, do all the shopping for those meals, then prepare each meal. Each meal would then be a heat, points given for time of prep as well as excellence of taste and presentation.

 

The winner can then come work for me! 

 

LUCY BURDETTE: I would not take Hank on in the Taskathon! The only prize there would be second place. Debs, I will take your second place winner at my house!

 

HALLIE EPHRON: I propose a sheet-folding competition, with difficulty starting with twin flats and moving up to king-sized fitted. And cutlery sorting, beginning with a dishwasher load of cutlery. Accuracy counts. 

 

 

JULIA: Ugh, I'd be a wash-out at the sheet folding, Hallie, but I sort my cutlery as it goes IN to the dishwasher, so I can see a gold medal in my future! 

How about you, dear readers? What new sports do you propose for future Olympics? And are there any current sports you think can be retired?

 

Eight for the April Complainers

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: It’s been a few turns since I’ve vented my spleen shared by little annoyances with you, dear readers. I’m not in my usual gay and cheerful springtime mood, probably because I had twelve inches of heavy, wet snow followed by icy rain this past Thursday and Friday. Oh, and did I mention my power, internet and cell service going out for three days? Ha ha! What a lark. If TS Eliot had lived in Maine, his fingers would have been too frozen to write “April is the cruelest month.”

Thrown into a peevish frame of mind, I tend to dwell on other irritants, insults and injuries. Which means you, dear readers, get to hear about them in convenient list form.

 

Unrecyclable pill bottles. Okay, I acknowledge this is petty ante. On an individual level. But they add up – boy, do they add up. I have two prescriptions I fill every thirty days. Twenty-four of the little orange plastic bottles and their tops a year. Almost one hundred over the past four years. Two hundred in eight years, etc., etc. And there’s NOTHING you can do with all those bottles! I’ve used a couple to store coins in foreign currency. A couple more to hold Tylenol and ibuprofen in my purses. After that, I’m stumped. Too small for almost any other use, the pharmacy won’t take them back, and it’s not the right kind og plastic for my town’s transfer station.

I’ve gotten to the point where every time I take my amlopedine, I picture a giant raft of pill bottle floating in the Pacific Ocean. Which is not doing much for my blood pressure, I assure you.

 

Grocery stores with no one available to ask questions.  I have to say, I hadn’t noticed this as much until I went to the second Market Basket to open in Maine. (There are two.) It was wonderful! So. Many. Employees. Someone to help me find the grapefruit. Someone to check if the sales price was still good. Someone whisking the abandoned cart in the parking space away before I even had the chance to grab it!

It was an eye-opening contrast to my usual store, where I wander lonely as a cloud if I have a question. They used to have a customer service counter/check out, but that’s gone now. I guess it was a warning.

 

“Dollar stores” whose prices have gone from a dollar to $1.25 and now as high as $7!  I think we can all agree this is basically a crime against humanity. Allegedly, the C suites at these companies have noticed “people with money” shop there, and therefore process can go up. How do they know that? I, personally, have never had to show my most recent tax filing to the clerk ringing up my bleach, birthday cards and movie candy.

 

The eternally changing recommendations for healthy eating.  My last doctor told me to stop eating an egg daily, it was contributing to my high blood pressure. The current doctor told me eggs are fine. We were supposed to not diet, and listen to our natural hunger signs. No, now that’s wrong (admittedly, my natural hunger signs are for M&Ms and Oreos.) Protein is good. Too much protein is bad. Avoid carbohydrates. You need carbohydrates.

I’m considering adopting my grandmother Greuling’s eating plan: bread with every dinner, lots of canned, salty vegetables, 4-5 Pall Malls a day and one glass of port in the evening while knitting and watching TV. She lived until a week before her 89^th birthday, and never needed any care other than some help with the housework in the last few years.

 

Ads on subscription services I already pay for.  Amazon Prime, I’m looking at you: not only am I paying with both my wallet and my eyeballs, but I’m increasingly presented with a menu of viewing options consisting of two or three great shows I want to stream and eight thousand warmed-over two-star duds. P.S., I immediately mute the ads and scroll on my phone until they’re done.

 

Restaurants that present the “bill” on an ipad.  First off, I have spent too many years nagging my kids to put their electronic devices down in restaurants to bend the line for the restaurant itself. Second, I don’t want a “convenient email receipt.” I’m not an idiot; I know this means I’ll be getting emails from The French Farmers Table, and anyone it sells my info to, for the rest of my life. Third, I tip well. Twenty percent on the whole, tax included, and I round up. I find myself getting viscerally offended when I see those handy pre-loaded tip amounts, which lately start at 25% and go up. Also, I’m sus, as the kids say, about just who gets all that tip when it’s totally electronic.

 

Interesting new recipes I can make almost entirely from what I have in my pantry EXCEPT for one have-to-have-it spice/curry/sauce that’s only available via mail-order from a specialty store in NY or DC. (Yes, I get these recipes from the NY Times and the Washington Post, which is undoubtedly part of the problem.) Please, recipe section editors, take pity on those of us in flyover country. Yes rural Maine is definitely fly-over country.

 

Dear readers, what little irritants are getting up your nose this week?

Photo credits from top to bottom: Macwagon (Flickr), Advantus Media, Amazon, Imanoj Menon (Flickr)