Summertime in Maine

Sans plan, a few friends, and us, mapped out our 4th July-long weekend along the undulating east coast, from CT to the state of Maine.

First, we were greeted by Portland, where, the occasional warmth from the sun, howling winds, the swirl of the sea and the incessant drizzle from the tropical storm, Arthur, snuggled us into a local pub, Rí Rá. Best part? We made it just in time for the World Cup football game between France and Germany.

As we sat by a table overlooking the harbor, relishing our home-cut fries and white bean burgers, the clouds outside began to further darken.

Reluctantly, we made our way back into the tempest, in the direction of Belfast, where we were booked into the Belfast Harbor Inn. A town situated in mid-coast Maine and, yes, it came with a view of the Penobscot Bay.

As if a sign, we promptly perched ourselves on the balcony, watching the moored boats sway in the distance, droplets of rain dancing on the eddying current and just a glint of the eclipsed sun. A sense of repose reined (and I know I speak for all of us when I say this).

Decidedly, we sat indoors all evening after a quick stop at Rollie’s, a local restaurant serving, probably, the crispiest onion rings on the planet!

As dusk turned to dawn, we drove, in the downpour, on the Penobscot River Bridge, only to reach the Narrows Bridge Observatory, 447 feet tall, dauntingly situated on the bank of the Penobscot River (ultimately leading into the Atlantic Ocean). In under a minute, we were atop the tallest public bridge-observatories in the world!

Getting a bird’s view of the place, including Verona Island and the Hancock Bridge, was indeed a splendid sight. Ignore the beads of rainwater scattered as tiny specks and covering the entire town that morning.

Next, Fort Knox. A statuesque fortification, that immediately took us back to the 1800s and the American Revolution. We toured this establishment, built to keep out lumber-invaders, and soaked in its history.

After a heavy Mexican lunch, we travelled some distance to get to Acadia National Park via the glorious, Park Loop Road. The sunlit afternoon, the queue of serrated trees, and the ribbon of a road ahead of us made for a delightful drive. But before that, a quick beach stop!

We neared one of Maine’s most scenic points, Cadillac Mountains. The hills were soft where the sky stood high and blue. While watching the dynamic, summer sky as we dwelled in the comfort of our lives taking shape.

We then took the route to Jordon House Pond, the source of public water supply, again, established in the 19th century as a summer destination with serene outdoor dining. The reservoir was swollen from the rains, slapping against the stony shores every now and then.

Acadia is a mammoth-sized park. Our next visit was to the Sand Beach: fine grains, crystalline waters, uncongested, and a stiff sea breeze that could bring back childhood memories.

A phantasm.

Unwillingly, as the evening light started to set in, we made our way back – the land seemed sunk into the ocean.

Ended with some off-the-beaten-track Thai red curry and mango sticky rice.

As the morning dawned bright, we blocked out the day to do some kayaking, along the glittery, turquoise, leaping waters of Castine Bay, which is incidentally bioluminescent by night.

Our kayaks took us a long way from the shore, leaving behind a trail of frothy water, and met us with azure lake houses and freewheeling seagulls.

A fitting end to a beautiful holiday.

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A Date with the Incas of Peru

May 2014, our first wedding anniversary, deserved a special destination.

From JFK to PFN to LIM to CUZ.

Post landing in Cusco, a town in the midst of the Andean range, nearly 3600m above sea-level, we were taken to a boutique hotel, Los Marqueses: charming, colonial, quaint and, as we came to understand, our home for the week.

Coca tea, the country’s ingenious, natural way that alleviates altitude sickness, was consumed in copious amounts before heading out to the main square, Plaza del Amare that hummed with life. We parked ourselves on a bench watching the locals, stray llamas, gurgling fountains mostly adorned with the head of Pachacuti (the 9th and most important Incan warrior), overcast skies and stillness of the chill evening air.

We then walked to the InKa museum, a collection of both the pre-Inca and Inca cultures, from carvings made of sandstone and ceramic and musical instruments of stone to traditional textiles of alpaca wool and wooden weapons used in hunting.

Our first and last meal of the day was on the ledge at Café del Medio, Maori bread buttered with Maras (from the mines) salt, pumpkin, corn and bean risotto and celebratory wine in the light from the sunset skidding over us, with a view of the cityscape.

After one year of togetherness, this is how we’d describe love: true, vast and permanent.

We started the following day with freshly brewed Peruvian coffee across the church of Basilica Menor de la Merced, along the arch of Santa Clara, in the Plazoleta Commandante.

Next, we stopped at the Basilica de la Catedral, a Baroque-architecture Spanish colonial church, where interiors shimmering in gold and silver quietly reflected off atypical mirrors (symbolic of reflection of the soul).

From a church to the Koricancha Temple (Temple of the Sun and “courtyard in gold” in Quechua), we took a stroll through the remains of the sanctuary, ogling at the marvellous establishment where statues, floors and walls were built in solid gold, from the 11th century. It is said that the city of Cusco was built around this very religious site.

Medieval history defining the frenetic past.

After a picturesque one-hour drive from the city centre, we beheld the palace of Saqsaywaman, home to Emperor Pachacuti and the administrative capital of the Inca Empire.

As we cast shadows against the light, this three-tiered citadel, a construction made in stone (notice the shape of the stone leaning inward to avoid destruction by earthquakes) told us tales from centuries ago.



The salubrious environment of the hills felt like parallel universe and proved hard to get away from. We made our way, in the near twilight, towards Q’enqo, the largest site where the mummification of great leaders took place.

According to legend, the Incans could see the entire Milky Way galaxy and disbelieved in the concept of heaven and hell; if someone died they went up to the sky, if they were alive, they were a part of Mother Earth or Pachamama and, IF crime was committed, they were laid in a fetal position and their souls died.

Our final stop on this day was Puka Pukara, 3800m high, a military centre built as a fortress from where the valley and the crags of mountains were spied on for intruders.

Peaks of the range glowed in the virtual sunset.

The next morning, snaking through the majestic landscape, we visited the P’isaq village market, in Sacred Valley, selling handcrafted goods of stone, ceramic, cloth and beads.

This was followed closely by the archaeological site, an old town under the shadow of the mountain, with vast, patterned agricultural terraces that grew potatoes, corn and quinoa.

Acres and acres of perfect farmland.

This sort of royalty erected by the Incans was a sign of a victory over other tribes. The site sat on a slope, at the edge of the hill, rock-solid cutouts of stairs, baths, altars, water fountains and ducts and even a full-fledged drainage system.

We were convinced that this was a fairytale village!

After a delicious lunch in the Urubamba province and a stopover at the silver factory, we had the greatest tour of another Incan town, Ollantaytambo, a luxurious, ceremonial estate of the ruler, Pachacuti, before the Spanish intrusion.

Stones were brought down all the way from the mountain for its construction. As with P’isaq, this settlement consisted of terraced lands for irrigation, stone quarries and a temple.

It was believed that workers built a route from here, by road, directly to Machu Picchu (the citadel itself was guarded by the Temple Hill).

As we cantered into the sunset, we came upon the most exquisite little town yet, Chinchero, 4000m above sea level. Just the name of the place sounded like magic.

Views of the valley that receded in the distance, beams of golden light on stone, petite homes, cobblestone paths and the high and blue sky; in the midst of this fantasy, stood a church built by the Incan civilization and conquered by the Spanish. We were forbidden from taking pictures inside the church but from memory, it was the most serene place you can think of, beautifully decked up.

As it neared dusk, we could only think of one way to describe our visit. Here,
“The stars are far brighter than gems without measure, the moon is whiter than silver in treasure.”

End of day but just the beginning of another surreal adventure.

Peru Rail, the only means (other than trekking) of visiting Agues Calientes, started at the Poroy station in Cusco and took us through a whirlwind of a landscape, the pale-peaked rocky and snow-capped (Mt. Veronica) Andean mountains, the sea of quinoa fields, twisted, crossing tracks, small cities developed beside the Urubamba River and a panoply of green.

Freeze frame.

On arriving, we had a relaxing lunch that consisted of plenty of potatoes in aji pepper sauce and Cusquena. Our ebullience undiminished, we wandered through the town, making a mandatory stop at the local market.

Incidentally, the Hiram Bingham express and the Peru Rail run through the heart of the city!

As lovely as this town was - as the sky was on fire with starlight - we checked into El Sancturio, a hotel with a spectacular panorama of the world outside, prepping for the big day to Machu Picchu.

The groggy, 4am wake-up lasted just a few minutes before we embarked on the bus taking us to one of the Wonders of the World. As we threaded through our way up tight, narrow roads, the caress of the breeze, the first pink light of dawn, the emerging May sun, the swirl of the river, the land overflowing with evergreens, was comforting yet exhilarating, simultaneously.

On entering this refuge, we were WONDER-STRUCK!

An entire civilization resided here and then abandoned it, for reasons unknown, during the Spanish conquest (Machu Picchu = the Lost City of the Incas), which was rediscovered by American explorer, Hiram Bingham.

As we watched the sun emerge, it was fascinating how the morning light sailed effortlessly over the hills.

Structures in Peru are unique, wherein they are three-tiered representing the Chakana or the Incan cross: one level depicted the snake (lower world), one the puma (middle world) and the other, the condor (upper world) (Note: Machu Picchu has half a chakana, the largest space being agricultural).

Hiking to the top was an accomplishment; we felt an impassioned, vertiginous thrill by the unspoiled majesty of what we were seeing: the religious/ceremonial/military archaeological sites and far over the brow of the foothills facing the Urubamba River.

This was a great and endless megalith.

We descended precipitously, immersed ourselves in the last few hours of the city and eventually boarded the train back.

It is the aura of mystery in Peru making it what it is; “to travel is to live.”

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Making History in Washington DC

By the end of what was a painfully long New England winter, we found ourselves on a windows-unrolled-feet-up road journey towards the Capital. The overcast skies had nothing to do with our weekend plans. We drove from CT to NY to NJ to DE to MD to DC, got a sweeping glance of the panoramic city by night, before settling into a warm, king bed.

Following a quick breakfast of cinnamon bagels and coffee, we drove past The Pentagon, in the state of Virginia – the colossal defense establishment – and towards the direction of the Washington Monument.

Beautifully sparkling in the sun, a memorial to George Washington, it stood erect on the far end of the Potomac River in wisps of blue sky among glistening flashes of the white and pink cherry blossom. The first signs of spring!

Of course, we were a few days away from peak season.  

The Tidal Basin, where reflections rippled in the water, was like balm to the soul. We walked in tranquility (there’s an art in that too) - despite the, we were told, yearly cherry blossom tourists - and dawdled and let the cool breeze stroke our faces.

The loop around the Basin gradually took us to the Thomas Jefferson Memorial, another construction built in memory of a President.

After a quick slice of pizza, we wandered off to the Smithsonian Museum complex, the largest in the world, each building embellished with swaths of lawn and pebble; the IRS, the Dept. of Justice, the National Archives Building, Constitution Ave and much more.

A view of Capitol Hill in brilliant light! We especially love how this fascinating, multilayered city has touches of sprawling greens, wooded parks and broad avenues.

We renewed ourselves before entering The Air & Space Museum (Tip: If you are ever in the vicinity, take some time off to visit this illuminating display, the best museum in the city).

Last stop before day one: The White House. Funnily, we were reminded of House of Cards' Frank Underwood's “Let the butchery begin.”. 

The next morning, an extravagant brunch awaited us at Mad Hatter near Dupont Circle, succeeding which we made an abrupt stopover at the Lincoln Memorial. The cherry blossom, in the unblemished sunlight, was unrelentingly beautiful, shadows of branches intersecting on the ground below.

We had some time to kill before taking the metro (another scene from the aforementioned sitcom came to mind) back and we used that at the Natural History Museum.

DC in the fewest words: reverberations from the past, intuitions of the future. 

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