“How’s your sandwich?”
“Awesome,” I said to the gentleman with graying hair and spectacles. He sat at the table across from mine as he read his book over a bowl of clam chowder, I sat at my table by the big bay window of Camden Deli, sipping wine and enjoying a portobello panini.
It was a simple question, but it carried us into a conversation about life in Camden, my first “underway” trip with Station Rockland, his two boys, my ambitions with the Coast Guard, and so-on-and-so-forth. I found out he was a doctor, not a librarian, overthrowing my initial speculation. His book was from the Camden Public Library, if that counts for anything.
When I mentioned taking a boat ride to Carver’s Harbor for work, another man jumped in the conversation, sporting a swooping white mustache that extended past his rosy cheeks and also heading his own table. He was a lobsterman and a classic Mainer: a little rough around the edges, speaking with a fantastic accent, and on the salty side(1).
Traditionally, lobsterman and Coasties don’t get along; however, all three of us, even with our entirely different walks in life, hit it off splendidly. While I don’t quite remember the details, perhaps the wine was getting to me, I remember it was a lively, animated conversation. There was something wonderful in the oddity of the three of us brought together, which made for such a colorful interaction. I walked out of the deli smiling, content after a few days of wandering out on my own.
On the topic of loneliness: surprisingly, I wasn’t actually lonely in those first couple weeks of exploration (however, I needed “lonely lady” for the alliteration). I had already anticipated the patience I would need before I began making friends in this new area. When the “newness” of the area and my initial curiosity faded, though, the loneliness did set in a bit.
That is, until I simply took it for what it was and decided to roll with it.
One night I told my friend Kate, from home: “I feel like I’m dating myself! I do what I want, when I want, and go wherever I want to go.” It was kind of fun. I even bought myself flowers a few times.
Going to a bar solo was a first for me, and it’s now kind of hilarious to think about how much effort that took. “Sarah, I need you to talk me through this,” I said on the phone, walking down Main Street to Waterworks for my first nighttime outing. I was laughing as I said it, but it definitely took me a few moments to snatch up the courage to open that door and wander in!
All-in-all, it was a challenging, but rewarding time. I met quite a few people in this time period. I befriended bartenders and baristas, went on a date with a Ukranian (that’s a story in itself), went on a few random runs, tindered a bit (not my thing), went to breakfast with people from the YMCA pool, and scored a free album while drinking my new favorite gin drink and chatting with a musical duo, Rick Turcotte and his accompaniment, after a show at Rock Harbor.
I found that being willing to put yourself out there, even if it’s initially uncomfortable, leads you to some cool experiences and interactions. It’s even cooler when those interactions lead to something that lasts, which actually does happen. I love and miss my friends from home/school dearly, everyday, but not having that social shield for a bit was a blessing in disguise. Try it some time.
 |
| View from Camden Deli |
 |
| Seagull? |
 |
| Sometimes, we even hike solo. |
No comments:
Post a Comment