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We spent that night at The Elms, one of the most beautiful B&B's I've ever seen and a short drive outside of Portland proper. Although it was bordered on one side by a rather busy stretch of road, once you stepped inside the doors of the 130-year-old building it felt like you were miles away from everything. It was so quiet in there it was almost eerie, but it was also incredibly well-kept by its owners, who have filled it with lovingly selected antiques. Every detail was just so, down to the gilded wallpaper in the foyer. We stayed in the Cottage Room, so named according to our host because it had a certain faded charm particular to many seaside cottages in Maine. He finished by telling us that he very much intended to keep it that way, which made me wish that there were more people on this planet capable, like him, of understanding the beauty in leaving something old and worn just the way it is.
One of the highlights of the trip came the next morning, our last in Maine, when we visited the Portland Architectural Salvage. Imagine the most fantastic old attic you always wished your Grandparents had, filled with strange, amazing fantastic old junk and furniture and dusty trunks and cloudy glass bottles. Now, multiply that by four entire floors, and you're most of the way there. It was a dream, although on the pricey side. I wanted to take everything home with me, from ship's wheels to wash basins and bags of milkglass doorknobs. If you ever have the chance, it's definitely worth a wander--thanks to all who recommended it!
Our last night we spent in Cambridge outside Boston. I had never been before, and I loved all the pretty houses and apartment buildings painted greens and creams, and the lilacs bowing their heavy heads in the rain. Now, holed up here on my lonesome, inching my way through an NYC summer, all I can think about is going back. I know that other adventures await, but they still feel impossibly far off at the moment.