People Watching: Cottage Country

It is an interesting place, this cottage country. It has become a playground of the rich. Or maybe it always was. You go to the modest grocery store and the parking lot is lined with BMWs, Lexuses, Mercedes, and other high end vehicles. Convertibles, SUVs and luxury cars. And our Yaris. It is an interesting adventure watching these people buying food. Interestingly enough, you see way more men here than at home when you go in the store. Maybe it is a novel sort of adventure for these rich men?

I watched two teen boys load up a cart full of all sorts of things. They had way nicer sandals than me. And they had no regard when it came to prices as they just grabbed anything and everything off the shelves as they went. It was actually quite liberating to watch. In the parking lot, I watched them load their food (if you could call it that) into a vehicle that probably cost as much as my first house. It would be interesting to see what their everyday life is like. To see what they expect from the world, what they think life is really like.

Some women come to the grocery store with their bathing suit cover up and hair pulled up all fancy in a ‘casual’ way. But they look fancy anyway. Maybe it’s because they’ve washed their hair at least three times in the past three days. Or are wearing make up. Or ironed their bathing suit cover.

The funny thing is that I never noticed that I was treading among the ‘rich’ until other people started pointing it out to me. And even now, I’m really not that good at picking them out, even if they were parking their Lexus out front of their million dollar cottage. I guess to me a car is a car, big or small and a cottage is a sacred thing passed down generation after generation, not caring if you chose the big city, big job, big paycheck route or not. It’s something that is part of your life. A part of your summers.

As a writer, I question myself from time to time. I mean, if I walk into a grocery store and don’t notice all the rich people until others point it out…well then how perceptive am I really? And will it show in my writing? Or is it just a blessed innocence and acceptance of others that has actually enriched my perceptions of the world and thus my writing?