When one thinks of Cape Cod, images of Jackie Onassis sipping champagne on top of a luxury sailboat tend to come to mind. It's a place known for its beautiful beachfront properties, rolling sand dunes and world-class seafood. Sounds pretty good, right? Yeah, it did to me too. Unfortunately, that is not the Cape Cod I experienced.
I'll be the first to throw my hands in the air and admit it: it wasn't really Cape Cod's fault. I messed up. Had I stayed in cute B&Bs in the fabulous rainbow-flag-loving Provincetown and spent my afternoons sipping mimosas, my feelings would probably be very different. But as it stands, Cape Cod well and truly kicked my butt.
(If you'd prefer the complaint-free version of my Cape Cod trip, check out my photo blog here)
First, let me start things off with this little nugget of a story:
Immediately after my travel companion (whom I had dated off and on back in London) and I bought our ferry tickets, he decided to have the "just friends" talk with me. Excellent timing, right? And then, just as he was launching into the "it's not you, it's me" bit, a small string quartet struck up behind us and an impromptu wedding began to unfold.
You cannot make this shit up, people. These young lovebirds were getting married ten feet away from where I was getting dumped. It's probably at this point that I should have realized the week was out to get me, but instead I chose to ignore the signs.
And thus began My Great Cape Cod Adventure...
My first big mistake was not double-checking the accommodation that my travel companion had decided to book. Rather than booking us a spot in one of the charming B&Bs of Provincetown, he had opted instead for something a bit more, er, rugged.
Due to a lack of public transportation and our failure to rent a car, we ended up having to hitchhike to our middle-of-nowhere hostel. When we arrived, my first thought was, "This is where I die."
While some people might find the hostel quaint, to me it looked like something out of Amityville Horror. To top it off, upon checking in we were dutifully informed that the hostel was an alcohol-free zone. *Insert cries of despair here*
With only half a cookie in my bag, the realization that there was no food in the hostel and the nearest grocery store was about 2 miles away suddenly hit. Still, trying to remain positive, I suggested we drop our stuff and go check out the beach. And you know what? I was honestly pretty impressed by how picturesque it was. You really can't fault the natural beauty of Cape Cod.