A large bag of laundry, sunburn on every inch of my body, a new pair of shoes, and lots of pictures can only mean one thing--I just got home for my first real vacation in years. And when I say vacation I mean out of the Philadelphia area, more than 3 days of solid relaxation. My Uncle Joe (who is also my godfather) and Aunt Melissa live in Virginia Beach at this amazing house on a lake. My family used to go down to see them every summer for a week, but it's been about 10 years since I've been to see them. So when my parents were planning on going down there for a week, I jumped on the opportunity to see my uncle and aunt and get out of the area for a few days.
It was an amazing vacation, and I have a few stories to share about it :)
Not even out of the City...
My Dad always picks my Mom up from work everyday, and the Friday we were heading down to Virginia was no different. We packed up the car and headed down to North Philly to pick my mom up, planning to leave right from there. Before picking her up, my Dad wanted to stop in Port Richmond to pick up some Cajun kielbasa (which if you're not Polish, it's basically spicy sausage). Years back my Dad found this Polish Deli and swears by it. It's called Cserws (pronounced "Sirs") and it's really a hole in the wall deli--if you didn't know where it was, you would never find it. There's no sign or store front, or even windows! It looks like an abandoned building. So I go inside with my Dad to pick up his 6 pounds of kielbasa.
Now before I go any further, let me explain something about my Dad. He has this weird thing about T-shirts. If you have a business and sell t-shirts, he's bound to buy one. He loves cutting the sleeves off them and wearing them to "work" around the house. He has 3 that my sisters and I have tried to throw out on numerous occasions (a "Michigan" t-shirt that's a gross color yellow that is slopped up with paint and god knows what else), but have always magically appeared back in his drawers. He also has a plethora of navy blue PGW (Philadelphia Gas Works, a.k.a my dad's old job) t-shirts that he swears are collectors items (which in reality they aren't. His jobs gave them at least 12 every year and I swear he has bags of them stocked up somewhere).
So once we walked inside the deli, my dad noticed a Cserws t-shirt for sale. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. "This is great! Definitely getting one of these," he said inspecting the front and back of the t-shirt.
"Can I help you," the deli owner asked from behind us. Now the owner did not look like a typical Deli owner. Maybe this is a stereotype, but I always expect them to be round, old and bald. This guy was very fit, had shaggy blonde hair and a bunch of hemp bracelets up his arm. He looked like he should've been on a beach, waxing up his surfboard. Very strange to me.
My Dad gave his last name and the owner quickly went to the back to wrap it up. Once he returned my Dad asked about the t-shirts. "It'll be 2 weeks. That's our last one," he said curtly and kept wrapping up the meat. The one on the hanger was too small for my Dad, so obviously he was pretty disappointed. The owner finished wrapping up the meat and shot a look up at me, noticing me for what seemed like the first time. And a smile stretched across his face, "Oh wow that's a great t-shirt," he exclaimed pointing to the Queen t-shirt I was wearing. "What's your favorite song!"
I was kind of caught off guard and honestly couldn't think. "Ughhh..." I started to say, then he cut me off--"How old are you anyway?"
"26"
He nodded and smiled again. "Where'd you get that shirt? I'd love one," he asked.
"Honestly I can't even remember--I've had it for 2 years," I told him.
He rang up my Dad's order and shot another look at me and said, "How much did ya pay for it? Here," he said and handed me 10 bucks.
"I'm not gonna take it off my back and hand it to you," I said laughing and half shocked.
"No, no. Just take this and if you find another one buy it for me. And I'll give your Dad our t-shirt for free." I took the money and said I'd try. My Dad could barely contain his laughter as we walked out of there.
"Penny, I can't tell if he was trying to pick you up or was just a really big Queen fan."
Thanks Dad!
7 hours later
After 7 hours of driving, 2 stops (Wawa for gas and Tylenol, McDonalds for dinner), we finally reached it to my Uncle and Aunt's house. It was almost midnight but luckily they made sure to stay awake for our arrival. We opened the doors to the car and it was unbelievable how hot it was even at that time of night. My glasses fogged up and I instantly began to sweat.
My Aunt ushered us out to the deck, where we talked for 2 hours then we all retreated upstairs to bed.
After a good night's sleep, this is what I woke up to
No, this is not photo shopped. This is my Uncle Joe's backyard.
I spent the first 2 days of my vacation swimming in the lake, laying on the dock, reading, and drinking cocktails under that tree. I can't even describe how relaxing it was to just wake up, put on my bathing suit and dive (well not really, please see last post) into the lake.
At night, we sat and talked for hours. And my Dad and I got to do the one thing we haven't done in years; fish. Yes, I'm a girl and yes, I like to fish. A father of 4 girls has no prejudice when it comes to gender related recreation. For as long as I can remember, my Dad would take us fishing on the creeks and rivers by our house. He taught us to bait a hook, cast a line, and take the fish off the hook once caught. He did everything with us that he would've done with a son. And casting out into my uncle's lake took me right back there--to those days when my Dad took us fishing.
"Remeber that one day at Tyler State Park when you caught 20, Pen" my Dad asked, telling the story to my uncle.
"Dad, I'm pretty sure it was the same one over and over," I laughed.
It was a nice moment to share with my Dad.
Walking with the Colonials
It was hard for my Mom and I to pull my Dad away from the lake, but we were determined to experience a different aspect of Virginia. Busch Gardens was a no-go as we are not really ride people, so Colonial Williamsburg it was. My parents had brought my older sister there when she was just a baby, and my Mom told me how great it was. Being from Philadelphia, I've seen reenactors and period dress, but I thought it'd be fun to experience something different.
Took us over an hour to get there (my Dad still hasn't gotten the hang of a GPS and kept making wrong turns) and parking was a bit of a hike, but we finally got onto the main street of Colonial Williamsburg, amidst all the colonial buildings, cobblestone streets, dress and foods. Here are a few of my pictures.
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| My parents.... |
The pictures really don't do it justice. I kept trying to get action shots of the Colonials, but they kept moving!
"Good 'Morrow," is how we were greeted by each Colonial. They never broke character or revealed anything about living in modern times (except for when I saw one of the colonials on their cellphone and smoking a cigarette behind the bathroom. I guess she was on her break?)
We spent a little over two hours walking the streets, and probably would've stayed longer if it didn't get so hot as a the day progressed. One modern element of Williamsburg--all the buildings had air conditioning, which I don't think they had back in 1770.....
Good Vibrations
On July 3rd, my Uncle was able to get tickets for us all to go see the Beach Boys. Yes, the Beach Boys. Probably the closest I will ever get to seeing the Beatles (same genre, same generation). And I'm a big fan of the Beach Boys anyway, so I was super pumped.
Now I've been to a lot of concerts with my friends, and we had a pretty normal tradition. If its an outside venue, we get there a few hours before and tailgate in the parking lot. A few cases of beer, lawn chairs, and snacks are a must before the concert. So I really wasnt sure how this night was gonna go--the youngest out of my uncles friends had about 30 years on me. I was pretty shocked when my uncle explained we'd be going to his friend Jimmy's house to "pregame". Which for older people means sitting in an air conditioned house, eating pizza and drinking a lot of beer. Sitting there with a slight buzz, the only thing I could think was "God, I hope me and my friends are exactly like this in 30 years."
About an hour later, 11 of us headed over to the venue and took our seats on the lawn for the concert. Now I was not sure what I expected as far as an audience for this concert. Like the Beach Boys had their hay-day 50 years ago. I kind of expected it to be mostly people my parents' age. Maybe a little younger.
I was pretty shocked once the venue filled up with a mix of people my parent's age, my age, and younger. There were actually a lot of little kids there, running around playing with beach balls. It really, really warmed my heart to know that these kids were going to have this experience with their parents.
Then the show started and I was blown away.
It was amazing to witness the crowd, standing and singing right along with him. At one point my uncle turned to me and said "You know Brian Wilson hasn't toured with the Beach Boys in 30 years and he probably never will again. Now you'll be able to tell your children that you saw the Beach Boys 50th Anniversary tour and heard Brian Wilson sing "Surfer Girl."
I truly felt that moment was bigger than me. It also made me really wish I had been born in their generation--to have experienced the Beach Boys when they were groundbreaking and new. I've always kind of felt that way, but being with that crowd made me wish it even more. And in a small way during those 3 hours, I kind of was.
Heading on Home....
After 7 long days (including a spectacular 4th of July fireworks display over the lake), it was time to head home. I heard the soft knock on my door at 7:30 am on Friday and knew it was time to embark on the next 7 hour journey back to Pennsylvania. I packed my last few belongings and headed downstairs to say my goodbyes.
As I gave my Aunt a hug she whispered in my ear, "If you ever need to get away again, don't hesitate to come down south again. Even if you find a job down here." I was kind of shocked but also touched by what my aunt said. Could I handle moving down to Virginia? Leaving everything and everyone behind and starting a new life down south?
It's a lot to think about.
Before leaving, I walked down to the dock to take one last look. As I sat down, a big fish jumped out of the water and scared the crap out of me. My aunt had told me during the week that huge carp live in the middle of the lake, on top of cat fish and bass. "I don't think I'd like to be a big fish trapped in this small little pond. I'd really get bored," I thought to myself. There's only so much space and things to see. Then I realized something.
I am the carp, and Philadelphia is my pond.
Pretty funny to have a life altering realization before 8 am.
Gave me a lot to think about on the ride home.....
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