Spooky Travels for An Autistic Ghost: Salem, MA

Hello! I've recently traveled to Salem/Boston area for probably the best spooky trip of my life! And I thought it would be a great idea to talk about some of the tips I acquired from spending a week in the Witch City. Hopefully, this will encourage anyone who gets easily over-stimulated (or under, similar to me, hello!) how to navigate a place whose reputation is large crowds, loud noises, and lengthy rows of visual stimulation via exhibits, old homes, etc.

A few things I wanna say before I just jump right in first, I went to Salem/Boston in the middle-end of August. This means that I went during the very last weeks of the "non-tourist" season. I, and the rest of Massachusetts, beg you to NOT go to Salem during October. It will not only be stressful but also the crowds could possibly ruin any chance for space on the sidewalk, along with any hope for social distancing. I personally felt safe in Salem/Boston because most people were wearing masks, hand sanitizer was available in almost every establishment, and social distancing was still encouraged/if not able to be forcibly implemented by my own means. Second, I noticed most of the roads are still in their historical cobble-stone state, but there were indeed wheelchair-friendly sidewalks throughout the downtown. However, the rest of the town is not great for anyone using walk-assisting devices. Added pressure must be placed on Salem's accessibility (or lack of) practices for the future.

Down below you'll find what I did to personally keep myself regulated! Enjoy!

1. Walk around at night!

I stand by the opinion that some cities just thrive in darkness. Not only does Salem lean into its darkly, delicious exterior by highlighting cathedral points, and demonic shadows dancing under the glowing blood-crimson street lights, creating a vibe that would scare off the pure in The Puritans, but it also accommodates the sunlight-sensitive folks by providing most of their best treats under the sheltered cloud of the night! Plus, the humidity was no longer a fear once I realized I could schedule all my tours after sunset. It was great to not feel like I was missing out on any of the "life" breathing throughout Salem, mostly because the best happenings were happening under the Salem Witch Museum's glowing, gothic window. A satanic spotlight, guiding me deeper into the alleys of the town. Aiding all creatures of the night, comfortably.

2. Most shops function with twinkly lights

In a similar vein, I would say most food and retail spaces In Salem do in fact have this sort of whimsical and vintage quality to them due to the fact that the lighting in most of the stores are from various rows of twinkly/fairy lights. This for sure accidental delight that unrecovered a deep need to feel like an extra in Halloweentown and the atmosphere of the stores allowed for such a fun, nostalgic feeling only scored from a night of trick or treating, but yet 100% did not infantize anyone who took the decor "seriously". I witnessed hundreds of people sitting in these coffee shops and just staring up at the ceiling. Their moon-like faces lit with a lulled joy.

3. Gardens, gardens, gardens

Visually beautiful spaces have always "filled" me in a way that's difficult to articulate. Like a bee, I am enamored with clashing, loud colors. Flowers and bushels of flora excite me in the way an old antique store throws up a bunch of loose shit on its shelves. Making everything, the crunch of the gravel, the busy bugs flying from stem to stem, incredibly loud in an orchestra sort of way. A symphony of delicious eye candy. Sights as loud as my joyful screeching. I noticed that most of Salem's gardens seemed to be the less popular option for tourists - I have no idea why, but I felt like I had The House of Seven Gables to myself, granting me a longer time to privately frolic.

4. The less popular the cemeteries, the better.

Yes, it was as mushy as it looks. Given the age of most of the graves (the oldest dating back to 1609), it was amazing that most of the tombstones had not been completely weathered away. Holding the slimy sludge of time upon the hollow body of the words, the carved letters that were dug deep in the stone, in-ground-like pools, that could have easily been brushed away by a museum's gallerist that would guard the grass that frames all the graves; if able, you must find the least populated park, historic lawn, or cemetery in Salem. It will not only be a moment of peaceful reflection, your conscious thoughts having a chance to air out the constant horrors besmirched on the town, the scapegoated people of this country, and how it's all connected to the coiled nature of fascist culture, but it will also provide a respectful moment for you to pay tribute for the less "glamorized" lives; it wasn't uncommon for Salem to lack some quiet spaces to ponder. And, I do believe, for some of the more sensory-sensitive folk, it would be wise to calm yourself amongst the less crowded gawkers. And the graves are not as popularized and continuously ignored by Salem's commercial narrative, allowing the silence a chance to speak for itself. Personally, I think the hallow conversation you'll have with the coffins, disintegrating in the ground, will not require your mind to move, but for your body to listen. A sympathetic type of person that could practically feel the fingers, reaching through the grass.