“Get the fuck out of my town!” The battle cry of a Salem town local still rings in my ears. I typically wear all black. That’s just my lack of style. I’m not trying to blend in with the Salem theme. As a society we stereo type witches wearing all black, with a black cat, and a black boiling cauldron. Something was definitely boiling this day. My blood. As I casually stroll on by looking the part of a tourist I could hear the fading ASMR of Mr. Meth Mouth yelling for me to “Fuck Off”. I am no witch and far from a bitch, so…
Should one person be the whole reflection of the town of Salem? No, I dont think that would be fair. Let’s judge this town by its current merit, and not let the history, or a select few to curb that influence.
Salem is a beautiful town with a hot topic charm and the smell of witches in each little town store. There are witch shops. A lot of them. I mean a whole lot of them. Do witches have supply chain issues? From one shop to another you’re basically seeing a little bit of the same thing. Rows and rows of witchery candles, book of the occult, witchy smells, tarot cards, sex glass (dont ask), and some thrifty stuff. This is my kind of place for a getaway of city life with experiences you can sit through once and leave a little poorer. Salem Hotel rates of $500-$800 per night during the fall season are a little extreme, but I suppose this town does thrive on the extreme.
The Devil Made me Do it.
Take the Satanic Temple. They charge $13.00 a soul (I get it) to go inside and look at satanically decorated rooms. At the entrance, you are greeted by the temple gatekeeper who gives off the vibe of wishing to be elsewhere while going through the introductory motions. This two story temple has about 6 explorable rooms total with “do not enter” private rooms peppered about. You are asked not to open any doors, and you are also asked to sign a book with your full name if you intend to go upstairs. I am not sure if this is a test of your faith, or if you’re consenting to some sort of soul deal. Metal print photography by Frank C. Grace is scattered about the first floor, and the main attraction is a large statue of the standard depiction of Satan. Honestly, the experience was a bit underwhelming. At some point my daughter sneezed, some random man said “bless you”, and it just kind of took me out of the whole experience. Not sure what everyone’s expectations are going to this temple, but I suppose a self guided tour hoping to see Satan walking about it pretty ridiculous.
What kind of people come here and what would your experience be like? Role players, the standard family unit, goths, wanna be witches and vampires, historians, your every day passerby, and photographers. The charming town of Salem can get crowded, but you can pretty much do everything there is to do here in one day. Salem definitely thrives on the witch motif, but if you want an in town escape from the flying brooms, then head towards Jolea Tea where you can spend more cash for some afternoon tea experiences.
What to skip? Well, the Salem Witch Museum was a bit of a let down. The outside structure looks very intriguing, but the inside experience leaves a lot to be desired. You’ll enter a dark room with your group where everyone takes a seat on chairs or the yellow benches and in the center of the room a big red circle where the names of the accused are set. There will be a story told via an audio recording and each little set surrounding you will be revealed by overhead lights. It is roughly a 30 minute history lesson and once it is over you’ll make an exit to the gift shop to buy even more witch trinkets.
When I was little, my aunt took me to some kind of Mexican witch store where they sold herbs and incense. Outside of this store was a rotting pumpkin submerged in some kind of bucket filled with water. I remember making fun of the submerged pumpkin on my way out because I thought who in the fuck would have a pumpkin in a bucket full of water?? It was absurd to me and my elementary mind on why this was a thing. But as I made my fun I suddenly tripped and fell right on my face. My aunt and uncle rushed over to help me up. I still think it is funny that my silly childish clumsiness quickly reinforced their superstition as though some kind of witch ghost had showed up to trip me.
