(And before you laugh at my incorrect title spelling, it happens to be the old fashioned way Gov. William Bradford referred to the original colony and in order to differentiate it from the town of Plymouth, the museum chose the alternate version for it’s name. So there spelling Nazi’s!)
(And before you food picture screamers start screaming for food, here are the pics from the previous night’s dinner that I forgot to include in the last post.)
A restaurant and wine bar in Mashpee famous for their wood fired pizza.
The first thing I thought of when we walked in was why do they have candy corn lights hanging over the bar?
But then I tasted their fabulous Basil Lemon Fizz…
And couldn’t have cared less.
Since they’re famous for pizza, we had pizza.
Though the menu made me apprehensive about choosing the wrong combination. Who needs that kind of ridicule at the dinner table?
We went with the grilled portabella with spinach, roasted red peppers, caramelized onions, mozzarella, roasted garlic and truffle combo… and in a word? Yum!
The morning of vacation day 3 dawned bright and sunny although cold, so we actually left the Cape Cod proper and headed north to Plymouth.
Yes, that Plymouth. Home of the Rock, the Pilgrims and the first Thanksgiving. We were going to get our history geek on.
And just like Hyannis builds an economy around the Kennedys? Plymouth builds it’s entire town on the Pilgrims landing there first. ( The question is… did they? More on that later.)
Entering through the visitors center, we began our journey back in time to the 17th century. This is a living museum and replicates what life would have been like through interaction with Native American and Colonists. It was a blast!
First up… the Indian Village, where we saw a dug out canoe.
And a live demonstration of how they’re made.
By Native American twins.
No, they weren’t actors. Though their tribe was actually from New York state and not local to Plymouth. They patiently explained the process involved in crafting this sea going canoe and believe me when I tell you it was cold that day. All the tourists were bundled up and these guys were half naked. Which, to be honest…. wasn’t a hardship for me.
This area is right on the water and there was a pretty stiff breeze. Yes, there was a little heat from the fire but not enough to make me strip… nope. Uh uh!
The fascinating part was, when I asked him why he wasn’t cold like the rest of us…. his answer astounded me. Diet, and conditioning. He told us that Indians traditionally pay close attention to nutrition, eating a mostly plant based diet supplemented by light fish and chicken in the summer and red meat only in the winter, when the body requires more fuel to maintain it’s internal temperature. He said the white man’s habit of covering himself in heavy clothing when it’s cold tricks the body to believing it’s summer all year long, therefor not allowing it acclimate naturally.
Seriously, I was shivering in 19 degree wind chill …. and he was bare chested.
Another interesting fact? They were getting ready to submerge all the canoes in the water for the winter so they would freeze and be preserved for next year.
Any guess what this is?
People were guessing hunting blind or something to do with food storage but believe it or not… it’s a jungle gym for children.
There were multiple structures to explore…
And I seriously hoped the husband wasn’t getting any construction ideas.
No, we don’t need one of these at home.
Though the dolls with their own dug out canoe were sweet.
It’s strange, you can read all the books you want…. but walking through the village and experiencing how the original Americans lived first hand? Gives you an entirely new understanding.
This was the winter long house….
Where multiple families spent the colder months.
Traditionally 3 fires would be burning at all times, and yes. It was a wee bit smokey.
The woman in the middle was our guide for this section…
And though in Native dress…
You can tell she didn’t subscribe to the bare chested boys diet regimen. Wool socks and furs for her, even inside.
I can’t imagine 20-30 people living and sleeping in there together for months on end… no less your entire family.
I’d be suicidal in a week.
We sat on these beds/benches and let me tell you….
I don’t care how many animals skins you throw on them…. they were hard as a rock.
Privacy? What’s that. You’d literally be head to toe with Uncle Joe and cousin Sue all winter.
To which I have 3 words….