We left Atlanta early Sunday morning, stopping at mass along the way. And the mass alone has enough stories surrounding it that I fill a whole blog about it. We walked in to a mass on the feast of Corpus Christi that was said in both Latin and Spanish (you had the sense of déjà vu as the prayers went on), and then, at one point, I wasn’t sure if we were at a poetry reading or church. The priest was quite the performer, reciting a Corpus Christi-themed poem with all the rhythm and gusto normally given to Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven”. The ceremony went on for nearly two hours, and as there was no end in sight, we finally had to excuse ourselves before the final blessing. (This was after a “special treat” for mass that day, in which we processed around the church itself and then into and around the lobby and then back into the church to take our seats again.) After that fiasco, we were finally able to hit the road. Again.
The three and a half hour drive to Asheville was nowhere near as monotonous as the first stretch of the journey. The Interstate took us on a winding, forested path through the hills and eventually we entered into the Smoky Mountains themselves. True to their name, plumes of steam and fog billowed like smoke off the gigantic mountain faces, and the slow, winding roads turned into sharp curves up the mountain at seventy miles an hour. We went uphill and downhill and uphill and downhill for what seemed like ever, the car protesting all the way. It was kind of a relief to be able to pull off the interstate and turn on to the quaint, trafficky little streets of Asheville.
The city is adorable. It’s nestled in the hills and is filled with cute, quirky little districts. The historic district and downtown are definitely my favorites. The historic district has all the crisp, clean chain stores like American Eagle and Soma nestled into old brick buildings, while downtown is kind of like the French Quarter—not in looks, but in the strange, New Age shops, the homey cafes, and colorful people it attracts. Sunday evening, we decided to park in a lot downtown and walk the streets. (The traffic lights are such that it is faster to walk than to drive.) Even walking from one store to the next, you’re hill-climbing, though, and it’s a bit of a challenge. They’re huge on books here, though, and I even found a cute little zine stand that I checked out, which should count for Goal #44. While we were browsing one of the used bookstores right off Broadway, a summer shower hit out of nowhere, and we were caught in a furious little rainstorm. When the skies finally cleared, we continued exploring and found a cute little park on the outskirts of downtown, all cobblestone and ferns. All in all, it was a pretty nice night.
Despite yesterday’s bout of rain, the weather today was beautiful. Cool, almost, with no humidity and bright blue skies and those white, puffy clouds that always make me smile. We divided up our time today between getting lost and touring the absolutely gorgeous and somewhat famous Biltmore Estate. It was built in the 19th century and spreads out over 8,000 acres of mountains and hills and meadows and rivers. The Biltmore House and its gardens were both inspired by French renaissance architecture, and both look so reminiscent of the palace at Versailles that you can’t help but notice the influence. If you’ve ever seen the movie Marie Antoinette, you have some idea of what the Biltmore Estate looks like. The house itself is seven-stories tall, although the ceilings are so high in some rooms that there are only three or four main floors.
We spent an hour and a half in the Biltmore House alone. It reminded me of clue, as they have a Billiard Room and a Conservatory and an underground passageway that leads from one part of the house to the next. The library alone houses 23,000 books, and there are numerous other stocked bookshelves in the house. Plus, there’s a bowling alley, a swimming pool, and three kitchens. It’s pretty amazing, and pictures are coming soon. (Although, I left my camera cord at home, so they’ll have to wait a little while.)
Even once you leave the house, there was so much to do on the grounds that we were quite content to spend all day there. The Vanderbilts today have converted the old stable (all mode of stone and brick and wrought-iron) into a restaurant, so I ate lunch in what, about one hundred years ago, used to be a horse stall. The horse’s hay rack and water bucket (made of iron) and even the sliding doors of the stalls and the drains and pipes of that they used for washing the animals were all in tact. Later, I got to spend my time with some real horses, two huge Belgian Drafts with wide, innocent eyes and the sweetest personalities—Chester and Burt. They were down at the restored 1900s farm on the estate, along with a ram and sheep and roosters and baby chicks. I was in heaven.
We did quite a bit of hiking, both uphill and down, and even got suckered into talking a mile-long trail to see a “waterfall”—nothing more than a little splash of water flowing over the side of a bridge. Five miles of forest trails and one wine tasting(/grape juice tasting) later, we were ready to go back to the hotel.
I had to take an hour or so in the room to recoop before I had the energy to go walk through Asheville Mall, nothing nearly as exciting as Biltmore today. And tomorrow, it’s back on the road—to a new town and a new hotel, with more adventures. Heck, we’re so crazy we’ll even take on a new state!
At seven o’clock tomorrow morning, we’ll be sipping coffee and packing up the car, ready to head out of this place. Goodbye North Carolina, hello Virginia!
Lexington, here we come.
P.S. Click the title of this post to be linked to Biltmore’s website. Check it out, because it’s pretty awesome.
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