Exploring & Escapades

bits & pieces of my travels

Tag: USA

World’s End

img_9958img_9945img_9990 img_9969 img_9994img_9983

Three weeks at home, passed by in a flash. My last days marked by the snow. It came unexpectedly; at first, barely there. We went out to World’s End to take in the sunset over the city, my last one until who-knows-when. 

Advertisements

Boston

img_9279img_9256 img_9267 img_9272 img_9276

Christmas-time in the city. Wandering around the place that I’m from, aimlessly and open.

We used to do this in highschool. It’s still fun in my twenties. 

Scituate

img_9191img_9151img_9173img_9092img_7049 img_9122 img_9210

Home for the holidays, & it’s a beautiful thing. The past few weeks have been busy. Christmas parties. I graduated. Travelling across the ocean. And now, here we are. Home, content. 

Menemsha

IMG_6744 IMG_6745 IMG_6746 IMG_6748 IMG_6775 IMG_6776 IMG_6782IMG_6772IMG_6774

We woke up in the morning with the intention of taking bikes across the island, from Oak Bluffs to Aquinnah, but the weather gods had other plans for us. Instead, we jumped on the bus, maneuvering our way from the airport, to West Tisbury, through Chilmark, and eventually landing at the old fishing village of Menemsha. By then, it had stopped raining, but the haze remained. The harbor, quiet, but alive. Children fishing on the pier, families climbing across the jetty. Colors reflectinh naturally on the water, radiating against the pale blues and greys. It was misty, breezy. Hazy, as if we had accidentally stepped across the threshold into an alternate dimension. A fantasy land where the only noise is the sound of fishermen unloading their catch. 

Edgartown

IMG_6700IMG_6691IMG_6663 IMG_6702IMG_6730 IMG_6728 IMG_6733

Pre-sunset, post-ferry at Edgartown Harbor. We took the ferry to the island from the mainland earlier in the afternoon, and after checking into our room, we caught the bus from OB. Detour to brewery on the main road, then wandering until we made it to town and beyond to the lighthouse. It’s like a painting to me. The colors are so, so vivid. The camera could never capture them. And then there’s the quiet and the salt. The sand in your feet, alone on the beach on an island in the middle of the sea. 

 

Hydrangea Festival

IMG_6427IMG_6426 IMG_6419 IMG_6428 IMG_6439IMG_6450 IMG_6449 IMG_6459IMG_6474

Peak hydrangea-season, mid-July on Cape Cod. My aunt, my grandmother, my brother and I spent the day in Chatham, touring the local gardens of the annual Hydrangea Festival. To be perfectly honest, though, the tours weren’t really necessary. The most beautiful hydrangeas of all were out in public, free for all to see. Chatham Main Street was fully in bloom. 

Flowers, ice cream, puppies. It was my last day as a twenty-five-year-old, and I wouldn’t have spent it any other way. 

 

%d bloggers like this: