holly wynne approximately

I guess it’s about time I get this post up about my trip, seeing as how it’s been a week. Basically, I have found my home, and its name is Asheville. (What, you were expecting me to say I hated it?) That is to say, I had one of the best weekends ever, and as always when I travel, I had lots of thoughts about lots of things that I wish I had the time to tell you. I imagine it will all come out eventually, but I do miss the early days (you know, a year ago) when I had plenty of government time to spend blogging.

On with the travel diary. Thursday after school, I drove to Nashville to stay with the parents. My dad was finishing packing for his Ukraine trip and I was trying to double-check my finances, but there was still some nice quality time before I collapsed after a loooong week. I was stoked about getting a full night’s sleep before my big journey.

The fault line had a different idea. Something loud jarred me awake. With what little subconscious energy I had, I mustered forth the thought that Daddy was up late packing and had dropped a big piece of luggage. Then, though…the little noises that had accompanied the initial boom kept squeaking. As I fumbled toward consciousness and squinted through the dark, I realized not only was the squeaking continuing, but my room was shaking.

It lasted long enough that I went from a dead sleep to being awake and realizing what was going on. I picked up my cell phone and it was 4:40am. I got to go cuddle in my parents’ bed as if I were still a little girl scared by a thunderstorm as we watched local coverage (surprisingly sparse) of the unfolding events. That was fun, but I ended up snoozing and getting a late start on my trip.

It all ended up okay, though, as the wonderful mbick (as she is known in the wise and kind comments she leaves here) was very gracious about meeting me at 1pm instead of 12:30. Also there were the Kells and her fella Cal. It was an odd little gathering, as I’d only met Cal a couple of times and mbick never, while Kelli is a soul-sister-friend from our days at Starbucks and beyond, but it worked surprisingly well. It was a perfect day there in Knoxville at the Cumberland Grill, and I was just so happy to be with friends on a sunny day.

From lunch, I met Sarah at her home in Maryville and we began the two-hour tip over the mountains to Asheville, NC. It was a beautiful trip and we had giddy anticipation and great music accompanying us.

We stayed at the Sweet Bisquit Inn, which I cannot plug enough for anyone ever headed that way. Angela and Robert will take care of you–even sit you down with a map of town and highlight the good places to eat. And, in the morning, you’re greeted at breakfast with the lovely setting to the right, complete with a little nametag so you can have ease of conversation with the other inn guests. Did I mention the sweet potato bisquits, Swedish pancakes, goat cheese grits, and BACON?

We ate Friday night at The Lobster Trap, which had been recommended by a friend. After putting our names in, we walked around downtown for a while. In the roundabout in the middle of town, every Friday is drum night. All the cool kids bring their drums and create this groovy little rhythm world while the other cool kids dance. It was a warm night, and I was wearing a skirt and flip-flops, and all was well.

One thing both Sarah and I were a little disconcerted by was how hip/hippie-dippy everyone was. Though both of us were steadily falling in love with the place, we were pretty sure we weren’t cool enough to be there, much less ever live there. As we spent more time going in and out of shops and eating establishments, though, it was made very clear that everyone is so nice. It’s just a laid-back, quirky, natural little place. I hope it stays exactly like it is, always.

Oh, and in honor of JP, I took this as we were walking back to the restaurant:

Our seafood smorgasboard was great, I slept like a rock, and we were all ready to get up Saturday and play in the Craggy Gardens on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Sadly, no. Breakfast conversation revealed that there had been several washouts that way, and the BRP was closed before we could get to it. So, instead, we drove up to the Folk Art Center and bought pretty things, then went south on the BRP–and up into the clouds.

(I have no idea how these pics are going to line up in this post, by the way. This is one time I have to admit that OTHER blogging site might be a better choice.)

We came back by the Biltmore, which apparently is the only reason most people go to Asheville, as every time I mentioned my trip, I was asked if I were going there. We didn’t, but we wanted to see if they would let us drive past it. Not without the crazy admission fee, we found out, so we played around in tulips at the entrance instead.

We ate a late lunch at the Tupelo Honey Cafe, where I had tomato soup and grilled cheese and a warm fuzzy feeling, then we just meandered for the rest of our day. It was perfect, except for the rain. Even the rain was kind of nice–it just ended up being a little cold. Other highlights of downtown: the Woolworth Walk, which has funky/beautiful local art at mostly reasonable prices; Mast General Store, which has…everything; the hippie store whose name I can’t remember where I bought my niece Marley a dress I can’t wait to give her when she gets here in July; the Dripolator, a wonderful coffee shop into which Sarah and I ducked when the rain really started coming down and spent the better part of the evening, and for which I couldn’t find a link; and Table, an expensive-but-worth-it farm-to-table restaurant that only serves seasonal fare.

Sunday, we had another magical breakfast, went to church, then went to a local co-op to shop for kombucha, which a yoga instructor at breakfast had raved about. It’s pretty hardcore, I’ll say that. We grabbed a couple of sandwiches and some cane sugar sodas and went on our way back over the mountains.

Long story short, I fell in love with the place and am now more than ever convinced that the mountains is where I want to be. I’m taking steps to, Lord willing, make that happen–more on that later.

Soundtrack for the trip:
Lightning 100–as far as it would carry me east from Nashville
Rufus on shuffle mode
Ray Wylie Hubbard–”Snake Farm”
Old Crow Medicine Show–World Cafe
Sheila Kay Adams–All the Other Fine Things
Neko Case–Fox Confessor Brings the Flood and Blacklisted
Jenny Lewis/Rilo Kiley–various and sundry