A credit card statement full of memories

I scribbled notes in my journal on our recent trip to New England. Nothing, however, makes a more precise travelogue than your credit card bill, and mine was a doozy.

Besides airfare ($300 per ticket), our first vacation expense was scoring a 5:30 a.m. breakfast at Charlotte airport’s Great American Bagel Company ($25.99). Not a bargain, the food warded off the hangries.

We paid cash for a taxi from Logan Airport. In a moment of sleep-deprived fluster, I’d forgotten how to make change with actual paper money. I accidentally tipped the amiable driver $30. The ride through tunnels and morning traffic was smooth, but not that smooth.

Our two-night stay at the Moxi would cost more than we’d ever paid for a hotel, but its downtown location was unrivaled.

We took a guided walking tour ($31.50) on the Freedom Trail enjoying our articulate leader clad in a tri-corner hat and layers of hot wool colonial costume on the hottest day, so far, of spring.

We hoofed after him like eighth graders on a field trip. He debunked Revolutionary myths and shared keen insights as we paused at graves, churches, and statues, and forded crosswalks through traffic jams to the Old Meeting House where he took his leave.

Rachel and I forged ahead. At the Quincy Market, we were introduced to our first of many lobster rolls ($39).

At the waterfront, singing gulls cartwheeled above. Light riffled healingly off the water. An executive type in what might have been Brooks Brothers lay napping on the seawall.

We explored the North End, sipped iced tea at an Italian bistro, and toured the Old North Church and crypt ($18).

We trekked the two miles back to our hotel, freshened up, and concluded our evening with a stroll to the Beehive. The hip jazz trio was free, but Brussels sprouts, a cheese plate, and wine wasn’t ($93).

Rachel said her Fitbit logged seven miles; not bad on only four hours of sleep. Proud of ourselves for our Olympic walking, we Ubered ($9.86) back to the hotel.

On Wednesday, we negotiated the MBTA ($4.80 each) to the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum ($44), the Boston Public Library (free), and a North End lunch at Vinoteca di Monica ($114).

John Singer Sargeant required 29-years to complete his massive murals on the ceiling and walls of the library’s cavernous third floor depicting The Triumph of Religion. This work hardly resembles his portraits of society women wearing ethereal expressions in elegant gowns. In the Heaven panel, the redeemed pluck gold harps. They look bored. The Hell panel is more interesting. A green, lizard-like devil with sharp white teeth happily chomps pale sinners writhing with terror.

Sargeant’s religion turned me off.

Even though we took short rides on the train locals call The T, Rachel calculated we’d still walk five miles by bedtime. I needed to keep up my strength, so I ordered scallops over squid ink pasta, bruschetta, and an arugula salad with shaved parmesan.

An expense from Deacon Transportation of Key West on my credit card statement threw me. When I was about ready to call the fraud-line, I deduced this is exactly what two Boston harbor cruises cost ($74). The wind and sun from this boat ride lulled me into a few delicious cat naps. From the deck of our boat, we saw Beacon Hill and the USS Constitution from a distance.

That evening, a movie at the AMC theatre ($57.63) provided respite from the hot day and hotdogs for a late dinner.

Our trip was strewn with such expenditures.

A pricey rental car got us to a family wedding in nearby Manchester. At the Thirsty Moose, I covered lunch ($314.17) for my sons, their squeezes, and other young cousins. The Harpoon Brewery charged $7.71 for a mediocre beer at the pre-wedding party.

The Double Tree Hotel bill swelled by adding three days of breakfast buffets to our tab. It’s easier to pay for everybody at the table than to divide the bill. At the next family wedding, I’ll rethink this extravagance.

On a post wedding jaunt to nearby Portland, Maine, our credit card bill scattered placemark pins at sites and eateries all over the downtown map: potato doughnuts at the famous Holy Donut ($15.29), raw oysters and fried clams at the trendy Eventide ($86.44), more lobster at DiMillos, chowder and a fleet of lobster rolls at Luke’s Lobster House, and admission to the Portland Museum of Art ($44).

We got off light at Longfellow Books ($72.89) where I discovered Nancy Lemann’s Lives of the Saints and a collection of E.B. White essays.

We paid admission to the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow house with cash and $14 in quarters left over from a mid-trip stop at a laundromat.

Parking around town and at the lighthouse at Fort William inched near $80. The spunky Spark Hotel was an exceptional bargain, even though the bed squeaked and our room was 180-yards from the lobby where they served a free, spartan breakfast of bagels and scorched coffee.

Compounding daily interest notwithstanding, these itemized expenses mark an unforgettable trail of wonderment: urban hikes, ocean views, rides on The T (and Boston traffic returning our rental to Logan), deep-sea delicacies, historic graveyards, world class art and gardens, deeper appreciation for complicated American history, and more.

This is not to mention dancing wildly at a wedding reception to vintage Earth, Wind, and Fire, and hugging the necks of smiling cousins exchanging fist-bumps with the newest minted couple in our family.

As with any expensive trip, most of the best things were free.

Time will prove the memories priceless.