It's too bad the Canadian border is still closed.
Downeast Maine was a big surprise. Unlike the touristy and upscale lower and central coasts it is economically depressed and has a frontier-like feel. The trashy, dilapidated mobile homes reminded me of rural Louisiana. One doesn't have to go far to see it is still Trump country, both for the pro-Trump flags and banners and the huge, sometimes vulgar anti-Biden signs. (The further south one travels the more one encounters BLM signs and the juvenile lefty rainbow flags that are all the rage.)
There are still big chunks of the Downeast coast that are completely unsettled, unspoiled and beautiful. That won't last long.
Mainers are much more friendly than I expected. While my wife shopped in the Rockland Super Walmart I engaged some in conversation to test their friendliness and enjoy their strong accents. Nobody was unfriendly and most were surprisingly conversational even though I was clearly an outsidah. I learned some local vernacular. One man told me his teenage son was "a weeyadoe". Another had just returned from "hahsback riding in Flahrida." When I asked for a recommendation on local beer the lady said, "I'm not shuwah." And so on.
The Maine state dessert is whoopie pie. In the spirit of adventure we bought one but were disappointed. Not true of the blueberry pie, however, which was grand.
The most pleasant surprise of the trip was the discovery that Maine has delicious, locally-brewed root beers. The ginger beers are pretty good, too. I do not recommend the blueberry soda.
It is possible to get tired of lobster, especially after lobster rolls (sandwiches on a french roll), lobster bisque, creamy lobster spread and, of course, lobster in the shell.
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