Living in New England like a tourist implies that while living here, I visit places normally frequented by tourists. That isn’t too difficult for me as I’m a transplant. My wife, however, is a replant. She was born here, and lived here off an on through most of her growing years. After thirty-five years she’s back and re-acclimating herself to the terrain. Friday night I suggested we go to the beach on Saturday and she agreed it would be a great idea.  On Saturday, I woke early showered, and dressed as I always do, prepared for our trip to the beach. Janet woke and asked me why I was dressed, she thought we agreed to go to the beach. For me, the beach meant to go to the ocean, explore the area, and maybe get in the water if we wanted. For her, going to the beach meant dressing in beachwear and camping out on the sandy beach for most of the day.  It was obvious that we had both agreed to a different concept of going to the beach. It was decided from that day forward, that a day on the beach would be a day at the beach, a day at the beach would be a day at the coast. Though disappointed, Janet conceded and agreed to a day at the coast.

We started at Hampton Beach for a trip down memory lane for Janet. She pointed out the state park her family stopped at during her childhood, and Browns crab shack where her grandmother ordered a lobster every time. We were lucky and happened to be there during the annual sand sculpture competition. Their work was amazing, and so sad that it’s temporary.  After Hampton, we continued up the coast to Portsmouth. If I lived anywhere along the coast it would be in Portsmouth with its vibrant downtown and historic sites. It is certainly one of the most beautiful towns in all of New England. So today I learned, that I can explore like a tourist, but I need to speak like a local.

“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.” – Helen Keller