|The Wilmington Public Library, shot from my taxi window|
But wait! I sometimes go through spells of forgetting that this is both a book AND a travel blog, and I have some exciting times in Wilmington, DE (said no one, ever), to share with you.
Haha. Just kidding. I actually enjoyed Wilmington, but it does seem to be viewed a little bit like the red-headed stepchild of the region, and I'm not sure why...
|Portrait of Oscar Wilde, engraved by my DH|
We departed by train from Springfield, MA, very early on Thursday morning, which enabled us both to practice the fine art of dozing for the next several hours. We arrived in Wilmington about five hours later to find that the museum hadn't sent anybody to meet us at the station. Not being without resources, we caught a cab to the Hotel DuPont, where we settled in for the afternoon in digs that were far swankier than our usual accommodations.
The lobby was stunning, with gorgeous molded ceiling and furniture that somehow managed to be both elegant and comfortable. Our good fortune continued when we walked into our room, only to discover that we'd been given a suite instead. Very nice, indeed, and it made us feel bad that we were essentially only using the room for a few hours as a comfortable stopover for the afternoon.
After freshening up, we grabbed our coats and umbrellas to head out to find lunch nearby. We didn't ask around, so we wandered a little farther than we would have preferred and were just about to double back and dishearteningly settle for a Qdoba we had passed, when we spied a place called Cavanaugh's. Lucky for us, they were still serving lunch at 2:00, so we settled in to enjoy a couple of their specialties: open face crabcake sandwich platters.
|Waiting for lunch|
|Cavanaugh's had a very pretty bar|
|Yum -- crab cakes!|
Walking back to the hotel, we shivered against the wind. The rain had stopped but the temperature had dropped. If you had told me that I would not be warm enough in my three-season jacketin Delaware in April, I probably would have scoffed at you. 'Cause I'm a jerk like that. But you would have been right and, more crucially, I would have been wrong.
|I made this photo of the lobby ceiling from the mezzanine level.|
|The Sassolito Gimlet, made with grapefruit|
juice and St Germain
Before long, it was time to head to the Delaware Museum of Art, where a gentleman named Alfredo whisked Barry away to prepare for the talk while Izzy, Holland, and I had a bit of leisure to explore the museum shop and the Salomé exhibit.
The talk went well and the Q&A was even better, but all too soon, the museum folks indicated that it was time to leave. I had just enough time to be introduced to a woman named Marcia Reed, a woman who owns a gallery in southern Delaware, and to discover that we have a mutual love of the Caribbean.
|L-R: Izzy, DH, me, Marcia|
Next up is Philadelphia, the City of Granddaughterly Love.
NB: I have to take a moment here to gripe, because I had just previously spent about two hours writing up this post and inserting the photos and trying to make it moderately interesting. Then when I hit the PUBLISH button, it all disappeared. All except the first two paragraphs, which I wrote two nights ago. Eff you, blogger. I'm not too happy with you right now. So now I've done the quick & dirty version, without any witty asides. Just pretend like it was good, m'kay?