Williamsport Day 2

We ate a generous and inexpensive breakfast in the hotel, surprised that we were the only diners. It was nine a.m., and the waitress said that many people didn’t come to down because it wasn’t included, or they tried to sneak into the Holiday Inn Express next door.

Betsy went to the farmers’ market as I dove into the pile of notes and clippings and stuff that I’d accumulated. She returned with bread to go with the sublime olive oil and balsamic vinegar with herbs that was marinating.

We wrote  until around one when I took a walk. Williamsport is a study in contrasts with cute boutiques, book store, antiques shop, brew pubs. At the end of the little downtown area are junked cars, rundown and boarded up buildings, sidewalks and roads in utter disrepair.

The people at the farmers’ market were packing up. They consisted of a goodly number of Amish/Mennonite folk in homespun blue shirts and black pants, with the women in white caps, long dresses and heavy black shoes. The “English” farmers did not look at all prosperous.

I followed the red hearts with the white arrows stenciled in the sidewalk. Never did learn what they were for, probably some sort of healthy heart initiative.


I followed the GPS directions to Wegman’s to see if I could reserve a Sunday Times. It turned out to be right behind the hotel, much quicker to walk than to drive around the block, down a one-way street and through the Kohl’s parking lot.

The place was a revelation — with a full restaurant, huge gorgeous displays of fruit and vegetables, an enormous bakery, and of course all the stuff that one finds in a regular grocery store. It’s a more upscale version of Stew Leonard’s without the dancing cheese and talking pig.

The very nice manager said they didn’t receive many NYTimes and they generally sell out by 10:30 or 11. “I get here at 7. If you can’t get here before 10:30, call me and I’ll set one aside for you.” Wow! The Carmel Valley folks need to take a lesson from this place.

We wrote some more — or actually I organized notes and put them into a file with subheads so I could find it to add to the MS. We did a taste comparison of the Amarone she bottled (sublime) and the 2000 Amarone I brought. They needed to breathe for a good long time but tasted fabulous in the end. They also both complemented the bread with the herbed oil and vinegar — or the o&v complemented the wine. Whatever the order, all was delicious.

Betsy went to listen to music in the evening and I curled up with my Kindle.

A terrific, productive day.

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