Colonial Williamsburg Vacation: Day One
Or otherwise titled: I Should Have Packed My Galoshes.
Note to self: purchase galoshes.
What kind of fools visit Colonial Williamsburg during the monsoon? Evidently us and senior citizens on bus tours. Because those were the only people fool enough to be wandering around yesterday in the driving rain. (And the senior citizens were annoyingly cheerful, I might add.) Me? NOT CHEERFUL. Not even the staff members in their colonial garb were braving that mess. The village green (or whatever it’s called) was desolate. There was hardly a soul in sight. It was downright eerie.
I suppose we could have stepped into one of the tradesmen’s houses but they looked pretty full. And it’s no wonder, it was the only way to get out of the rain. We did manage to take a tour of the Governor’s Palace, which bored the kids to tears but allowed us to dry off for a bit.
Upon leaving, a staff member took pity on us (we were a motley crew, I’m telling ya; the kids were none too amused at their fate, and I admit, I even found myself longing for Disney World, where not even a steady rain can dampen the magic) and advised us to visit the museums. She mentioned a kids’ section and a great cafe, and that’s all we needed to hear. We sloshed around until we located the building, and after we figured out the perplexing keyed coat racks, we made our way down to the museum area.
Turns out, it was anything BUT kid friendly. Samples of Colonial dishes and furniture lined the walls, and beyond that was a folk art gallery. I began to peruse the quilts, but when I set off the alarms due to reaching over the rope to touch the fabric, I decided that was my cue to leave. (Yes, I really did that. Idiot much?)
We had almost given up on finding anything remotely geared to kids until we finally happened upon the children’s room, which was basically two tables with coloring sheets and a bulletin board upon which to hang their artwork.
Because THIS is why we came to Williamsburg, so my kids could color.
Nevertheless, they were the happiest we’d seen them all day so, defeated, we plopped down on the benches and watched them color for about 20 minutes before finally declaring it time to move on.
The cafe turned out to be lacking in charm, so we opted to head into town for lunch. The rain did let up for about an hour — long enough for us to browse the famed Cheese Shop and eat our tasty gourmet lunch outside. After that, we gave in and returned to the hotel for an afternoon at the indoor pool while the rain pelted down outside.
Come dinner time, there was no sign of the monsoon letting up, and we were none too eager to brave the elements for dinner, so we opted for the hotel restaurant.
Just as we were about to be seated, the lights flickered, and the hotel went dark. Soon the generators had some emergency lighting in the lobby, but that was it. Our room was dark, the restaurants were dark, and the elevators were down. Word had it, the surrounding area was down too.
I guess you could say we got the true colonial living experience for about four hours last night.
The hotel staff was excellent. The restaurant regrouped and started serving cold sandwiches. Afterward, we hung out in the lobby for the duration. They brought us free ice creams and bottled water, they offered the kids board games to play, they volunteered to charge my phone off the generator, and were just generally cheerful and accommodating. So major kudos to the Wiliamsburg Marriott on Kingsmill Road. I highly recommend it if you’re ever in the area.
Finally, right in time to go to bed for the night, there was a surge and the lights all came on — ironically, right as the church group that is in the building for the weekend wrapped up their worship service. There was much cheering and hallelujahing. I was just happy to know that there’d be coffee in the cafe this morning.
WHICH, is where I am at this very moment. And what a difference a day makes!
I got up this morning and anxiously logged into accuweather.com and was relieved to find that the rain is moving out and it should be a beautiful day. Of course, any morning that starts out with an hour of me-time with my favorite Starbucks mocha latte has got to be a good day, right?
That lame photo at the top of this post is the one lone picture I took yesterday. Let’s just say this is not the trip I envisioned blogging about, but hey — this is real life I’m recording here. Gotta play the cards I’m dealt, I suppose. Here’s hoping today is a much better day.
Meanwhile, I’m praying for my dear cousin and her daughter who is getting married tomorrow, IN HER BACKYARD. The good news is, the sun is shining. The bad news is, her backyard must be a mud bowl. I haven’t talked to them; I’m only imagining. Let’s hope it dries out before their guests arrive. Or perhaps I should go purchase those galoshes…