Buffalo, NY was deeply underwhelming to me. It wasn’t as small or barren as I somehow imagined it to be, but it was also not bustling or fun in any noticeable way.
I had a great little lunch at this place called Cafe 59 and grabbed some snacks for later from the amazingly named Main Menu Restaurant, but I also witnessed an hour long shouting match culminating in a near fist-fight between a tow truck driver and the boyfriend of a woman who parks a little carelessly, and I think I was cat-called from bicycles more than I’ve ever really experienced before.
So maybe Buffalo disappointed me because it’s exactly the downtrodden ghost of a steel town that everyone thinks it is. It’s also possible that I was already furious at Buffalo for being home to potentially the best wings in the country, but not offering me a boisterous group of friends with whom to eat them. I’ve obviously dined alone a lot on this trip, but something about silently eating a bucket of chicken wings by myself in a dark bar just felt beyond sad.
Sidenote.
On my way out of town, I realized that I parked here:
Aren’t you kind of surprised they would have such a large outpost in Buffalo?? I was. What are you up to Scientologists…
Skaneateles (pronounced Skinny Atlas) is an adorable little Finger Lakes vacation town located right on Route 20. There’s a garden supply store and an ice cream shop on every block, all the buildings look like little cottages, and the town is shoved up against the north end of the second eastern-most finger lake, Skaneateles Lake.
Don’t know much about Finger Lakes? You will soon! The Finger Lakes are an array of 10-ish long skinny lakes smack in the middle of New York state.
From left to right in this photo they are:
Honeoye Lake (That’s the little one all the way on the left edge- it’s so small, don’t you feel like it shouldn’t even count? I kind of tried to crop it out of the image along with some other tiny ones I vetoed. Sorry… I don’t mean to be a jerk about lake size.)
Canandaigua Lake (I think all those white puffs are clouds? Not sure.)
My parents brought me to the Finger Lake region on vacation when I was 10 or 11, and ever since then I’ve kind of clung to my memory of the area as this bastion for idyllic park benches and kitschy souvenir stores. A lot to live up to? Maybe.
As I drove towards Skaneateles, the farmland got more and more adorable, plush and British, complete with cushy meadows and short little stone wall remnants. So far so good! Parking in town was easy and cheap, and I was immediate confronted with an ice cream shop on the water where I got praline-flavored ice cream and wandered into a little park.
It was chilly and windy and perfect, and across the street I saw a sign for a Christmas decorations store called “Chestnut Cottage.”
OBVIOUSLY I had to go there, so I started walking over but then out of nowhere I heard the energetic invite of another nearby shop:
Pomodoro’s outdoor collection of wind-activated lawn ornaments and novelty signs hinted at an indoor potpourri-scented wonderland of artisan soaps and pastel baby-room decorations that I knew I couldn’t miss.
My assessment turned out to be DEAD on, and I was presented with my choice of kiwi bubble bath, hand-painted “My Little Man” mirrors, hanging plants or any number of monogrammed journals.
I chatted with Lauren (in the first photo) about my trip and about Skaneateles, and after apologizing for the cold weather she recommended that I check out one of the waterfront restaurants, a place called the Bluewater Grill. It was packed! And a little expensive, so I skipped it and instead got a peanut butter cookie from a nearby bakery.
Strolling through town nibbling on my dinner, I found a salon called Hairtique adverising its spa day packages:
And then I stumbled on some truly stunning lawn ornaments that I really hope were purchased at Pomodoro:
The Finger Lakes area and I think Skaneateles in particular is slightly fascinating to me. Geographically the area is beautiful. Everywhere I went the vistas were just perfect: rays of sunshine poking through clouds to shine on a small cluster of sailboats at a distant dock while on a hill above the water a little farmhouse sits with a couple cows quietly grazing. But then at the same time there’s this complete worship of kitsch and tourism and sillyness. You’d think that it would tarnish the experience but somehow it really doesn’t. The combination of colors and energy and unnecessary purchasing thrown against undeniably serene waterfront and woodsy hill scenes just seems to work. Neither side takes itself to seriously. “We’ve installed a couple papier-mâché bald eagles on our front lawn, but… whatevs! Be back soon, we’re gonna go fishing.” or “Is the beauty of this sunset washing over you right now? HAHA nerd! Relax- did you see that ice cream place down the street? SCORE.”
Ta da! Week 2 is complete. I stayed in Portland three days or so more than I’d originally planned, so my progress in terms of distance isn’t crazy impressive, but this week had some GREAT drives.
DETAILS
Distance Traveled: Approx. 550 miles
Gas Used: 2.5 tanks, about $75
Highest Gas Price: $3.739 in Pittsfield, MA
Lowest Gas Price: $3.739 in Portland, ME
Week 2 Favorite Place: Well… Portland.
Meal of the Week: House salad with Maple-Terragon dressing at the Chinook Cafe in Conway, NH - $5.25. Everything was fresh, the croutons and dressing were delicious… I don’t know why I liked it so much! It’s possible I was just really hungry.
Dessert of the Week: Warm Brownie Sundae with one scoop chocolate gelato, one scoop hazelnut gelato and hot fudge from Maple’s in Portland, ME. I went there for a highly recommended ice cream cookie sandwich where you get to pick what kind of cookies and gelato you want, but they were out of cookies so I had to settle for what was available. How ANNOYING.
Vista of the Week: I spent almost 100 miles on New York Route 20, a mostly two-lane road that cuts through the middle of the state. Although it was congested at times, there were long stretches when it was completely empty, especially as the sun was beginning to set. I was driving directly west around 7 or 8 when I hit one set of hills in particular that was covered in mist. It was so beautiful and so empty that I just stopped the car and stood in the middle of the road to get a picture:
New Friend of the Week: Not including all the awesome Portland people that Tommy introduced me to, I’d definitely have to go with the lady doing the Hunt for Literacy in the White Mountains, she was chipper and fun!
My last post was a complete lie, I didn’t leave Portland until Saturday. My parents called excitedly to ask where I was, and I said, “…still Portland.” Tommy’s friends would run into me on the street and say, “You’re still here…!” Yes.
Granted, I had amazing weather and a great host, but until further notice, I think Portland is my perfect city, my signature city, whatever. Those that know me well will agree that there’s really nothing I’d be happier to do than sip a therapeutic tea called the Herban Cowboy while standing on a hill looking at this:
I had a great little lunch at this place called Cafe 59 and grabbed some snacks for later from the amazingly named Main Menu Restaurant, but I also witnessed an hour long shouting match culminating in a near fist-fight between a tow truck driver and the boyfriend of a woman who parks a little carelessly, and I think I was cat-called from bicycles more than I’ve ever really experienced before.
So maybe Buffalo disappointed me because it’s exactly the downtrodden ghost of a steel town that everyone thinks it is. It’s also possible that I was already furious at Buffalo for being home to potentially the best wings in the country, but not offering me a boisterous group of friends with whom to eat them. I’ve obviously dined alone a lot on this trip, but something about silently eating a bucket of chicken wings by myself in a dark bar just felt beyond sad.
Pomodoro’s outdoor collection of wind-activated lawn ornaments and novelty signs hinted at an indoor potpourri-scented wonderland of artisan soaps and pastel baby-room decorations that I knew I couldn’t miss.
My assessment turned out to be DEAD on, and I was presented with my choice of kiwi bubble bath, hand-painted “My Little Man” mirrors, hanging plants or any number of monogrammed journals.
My last post was a complete lie, I didn’t leave Portland until Saturday. My parents called excitedly to ask where I was, and I said, “…still Portland.” Tommy’s friends would run into me on the street and say, “You’re still here…!” Yes.
