playing a version of the tourist is fun

Today was a good day for an outing. We (minus Mr. Jenner who had to work, poor thing.) drove down to Port Isaac to take in the sights. It is a place people like to visit for a variety of reasons. It is this old fishing village that is pretty quaint. (quaint as fuck as my Mom would say) It is where they film the exteriors for the tv show, "Doc Martin", and you can eat a lot of fish there if you so desire. Much of the year it is filled with assholes like myself who come to walk around, poke about in its shops, and generally cause the locals to compromise themselves for the sake of the economy. We went there a few years back when Senor Onion was nearly a year old. It was in September then and it was still incredibly busy with people walking around, taking pictures of assorted places, and generally being in the way as tourists do.
Right now in the dark of the dark months, it is what Mr. Jenner refers to as "locals hour". Everyone has gone home for the season, things are rather relaxed and hardly anyone is about, except for fools like us. It was misting here and there but it wasn't freezing cold out, and it was down-right pleasant. We walked along the coastal path with the kids, took in the view, Senor Onion took pictures, and then we wandered down into the main part of the old fishing village. Dogs were walking about, a few people were looking about, and locals were standing around having a chat. We took the kids to the beach to look at rocks, chase the surf, and find bits of beach glass. There was another family doing the same, and a few more dogs standing about doing dog things. "sniff sniff sniff... I think that is the air."
We walked up toward the house that serves as the exterior home for title character of "Doc Martin". It is someone's private home so you don't go poking about the windows like you are at Chatsworth or something. The kids raced up and down the hill, and we meandered around some of the tinier back streets before deciding upon some teeny little cafe for lunch. As it was open, inviting looking, and the menu looked good. It impressed my Mom as it was obviously someone's house once upon a time and the house itself was built a couple hundred years ago, so the ceilings were low, the beams came off of a ship, and everything about it was quite snug. The man working behind the counter was very chatty in a comfortable way. Once he found out we were originally from Seattle, he told of us his great love for "Frasier". I don't know if all English people say this to people from Seattle as a point of relation and want to sound like they think we folk are cool... but then I recall that "Frasier" was probably one of the most English-like of American sitcoms to ever exist. In some ways, "Doc Martin" has a bit in common with "Frasier" in the way each creates this fictional version of a place and likely gets some things wrong but still... people love it to pieces. The cafe has good soup, my Mom really liked the open-faced crab sandwich (so much crab) and the children were indifferent about their food. I also suggest eating the battenberg cake. This place has a lot of cake. CAKE! We did talk a bit about Port Isaac and then I told him about the small town I grew up in. A quaint as fuck Victorian seaport, where tourists ask if people actually live there, and if we have running water. (we all had a giggle about life in these kinds of places. It was kind of awesome to be able to have this sort of conversation about life in a tourist-dependent town. (which is popular to one degree or another for filming projects) It is a weird compromise to make. A beautiful place, that needs money, and so you give up a bit of something and have to hustle a bit to keep the people coming back, but it comes with a slight price. Thankfully there is the low season to relax in.)

We stopped for postcards and sweets and then headed up the hill. We stopped at once place for postcards that is the official stockist for Doc Martin stuff. I overheard this conversation between the owner and some English customers about how Americans have discovered the show and how they don't get why the Americans would dig this show, or understand the whole culture of a tiny village. My Mother and I had not said a word. We looked at each other and sort of giggled. I bought something for someone I know and began to speak to the owner. I wouldnt' say there was an awkward silence, but there was that tiny moment of, "...erm..." (I love hearing opinions about Americans. They are pretty funny much of the time.)

Further walks, and then we drove home in time for tea. Maybe next time we will hit up Tintagel for a touristy afternoon. It's been about ten years since I've been there. I wonder how much more of the place has dropped into the sea.

Tomorrow: Barnstaple for markets and things.