As our friends are no doubt aware, the loss of my beloved mother Lena this past January has made difficult work of Easter for us this year.
We decided at the last minute to flee Oceanside to visit the charming and historical town of Portsmouth, NH to reconnect with family and get for a change of scenery. A 4.5 hour drive from Long Island, we arrive mid-day Holy Thursday to our rooms at the Sheraton Portsmouth Harborside Hotel. The property exceeds the perennially high standard set by the Sheraton brand, with “ambassadors” who greet us, seamless check-in and a wealth of information imparted to us on the “must-do’s” in this historic town. By the time we alight on the Club Level where our rooms are located, we have already planned our itinerary for the weekend.
Our rooms are spacious and well-appointed, and the 4-poster beds serve reinforce our presence in charming New England. The Club Lounge is well-stocked with beverages and one of those new-fangled Starbucks single-serve coffee makers is strategically positioned directly across the hall from our Suite, and I am assured of remaining sufficiently caffeinated to optimize my time here!
Shopping in the Tanger Outlet Centers is de rigueur, so we start here. Each of these outdoor malls has crept out into its own landscape, and this one sprawls throughout a half mile right across the bridge in Kittery, Maine. There is a good mix of high-end brands peppered into the standard here, and my black-belt in bargain hunting (taught to me by my dear mother, who catch the scent of a sale upwind at 1000 yards!) yields some incredible scores in fine linens, ensuring our ongoing ability to enjoy the hotel bedding experience long after we return home!
G
ood Friday is sunny so we forego the car for a three-minute walk into town. The high street (aptly named Market) is bustling with New Englanders. These hearty locals are easily spotted, having endured another long and frigid winter, and sporting no more than tanks and t-shirts while eating ice cream though the mercury is barely skimming the 50-degree mark! Rich and I note that the same weather in Rome would have elicited locals bundled in layers and leather – we are endlessly amazed at the stark cultural contrasts from region to region!
I duck into Angelica’s Muse, one of the most finely-stocked boutiques on the street, and score a favorite blouse and summer scarf before walking on.
I can almost imagine the Puritans strolling these streets, and a stockade squarely in the traffic circle, so authentic is this old nautical town. They are now long gone, but the town has all of its original charm and many of its original edifices. We visit Livermore House and John Paul Jones House, just two of the numerous historical properties 
abounding in this center of Americana.
We select the Oar House for our dinner on Saturday evening, opting to forego the additional time Easter Sunday in lieu of an early departure to avoid the all-too-familiar log-jam commute home. The clam and corn chowder is peppery and loaded with fresh morsels in the traditional northern style, and the Veal alla Romana (like anything cooked with prosciutto) melts in my mouth! Capped off with a decadent slice of key lime pie, I am gratified that we left the car behind for most of the trip! Our time here was quite a welcome relief after another long winter, and as Spring begins to open her arms on the Northern Hemisphere, this sleepy town is already stirring for what looks to be another stunning summer season!
