Monday, July 16, 2012
East Hampton, where I went for the first time recently, is like an uneven quilt of oddly-shaped sections with conflicting identities roughly stitched together. There's Middle Haddam, which isn't part of Haddam or East Haddam, and Chatham, which isn't like Cape Cod, and Cobalt, which sounds like it should be in Pennsylvania.
The result is a mish-mash that's confoundingly hard to get around, with steep hills, narrow streets, blind turns onto suddenly busy roads, and either cramped little parking lots requiring tricky three-point turns or no parking lots at all. Each part looks a little like someplace else, but the whole looks like no other town in Connecticut, and for that - though driving there practically killed me - I like it.
I used to think that if you had a list of places you wanted to see, you could cross each one off after you'd gone. But the truth is that sometimes, like this time, you cross them off only to have to add them again.