Having just watched Lincoln it was with some trepidation that Team J00ster pointed their GPS south of the Mason-Dixon line. Then again, being married to Mei as he is, your correspondent figured he'd fit right in, should the proliferation of Confederate bumper stickers be indicative of certain historical yearnings. Yes ma'am, at your service ma'am, your fried chicken is on it's way right now ma'am.
Fortunately it turns out the south has come a long way since those dark days that nearly tore a nation apart. In fact, even contemporary stereotypes of rednecks who put down the double barreled shotgun down just long enough to gorge themselves on fried chicken prove quite unfounded. Indeed the cosmopolitan town of Asheville, North Carolina could be the next overseas territory after Williamsburg to be annexed by Manhattan as an honorary part of the island.
The River Arts District proves that there is yet hope for a future of small town America that involves something other than a boarded-up downtown and a big Walmart out in the 'burbs. The Junction is a case in point, a funky café that hits all the hipster criteria: local, farm-to-table, converted warehouse chic, craft beers, reclaimed wood tables, and a write-up in J00ster Journal.
Every self-respecting Arts District needs a post-industrial grunge factor to keep the rent down, and more importantly to allow the artists to claim the downtrodden-by-society moral high ground. Moments before they sell out to gentrification that is. Even turps smells better when enjoyed in your million dollar converted warehouse loft.
Speaking of converted warehouse lofts, Mei peruses the market for bargains. Forget the loft, for the price of a Manhattan condo you can get the whole warehouse.
Thank goodness for reunification, without which one would need a passport to enjoy such southern fried goodness.
Mei wonders why all the galleries are priced above the Ikea range. What do you mean this print isn't designed to snap perfectly into a Ribba frame?
The aforementioned The Junction café. In Rock's opinion the re-industrialization of America is all well and good, so long as getting back to the business of making things includes making fried chicken.
Remarkably, downtown Asheville is just as funky as the Arts District. An eclectic mix of local shops and a pumping restaurant and café scene once again have those haughty Manhattanites grudgingly admitting that there is life off the island.
The rebirth of America is happening one block at a time. Asheville is a classic example of what happens when you put everything within walking distance. Surprise, surprise, people will actually walk. And they might even enjoy it.
You can tell you're in a hippie paradise when a bear and a deer can walk hand in hand; you know man, free love for all, regardless of species.
Even the classic American Diner can't escape the hipster makeover. Perhaps the oxymoronic combination of bacon-infused milkshakes paired with skinny jeans appeals to their love of the ironic in life. Or maybe they just like bacon. Provided it's from the local, free range, organic farm down the road of course
That's one way to burn off that aforementioned bacon-infused milkshake.
On this Wall Street, Gordon Gecko would fit right in; every hipster worth their (organic sea) salt wears vintage suspenders.
Death by chocolate was generally not an option available for Confederate deserters. Fortunately times have changed.
The artsy streets of Asheville, a far cry from your typical Main Street in this country, where you measure distance not in miles but in the number of fast food restaurants you've driven by. Once you've passed McDonald's, Hardees, Arby's, Wendy's, Burger King, Jack in the Box, Taco Bell, Dunkin Donuts, and (since we're down south) Bojangles, then you know you're on your way out of town.
Before there was the one percent there was the one without the percent. As in George Washington Vanderbilt II, the single richest dude in America. Back in those days there were no college football stadiums to emblazon your name on, so you had to find other ways to show off how rich and awesome you were. A case in point, the lavish Biltmore Estate, built on the outskirts of Asheville as a country retreat for the Vanderbilt family.
Does anyone else think it is a little unfair that even the servants' bedrooms are bigger than our Manhattan apartment?
No photos allowed in the house, so you'll have to take our word for it that the inside is even more impressive than the outside. Speaking of outside, here's Rock taking it all in from where he belongs, in the servants' quarters.
So this is where the American love of McMansions was born.
As if having a ginormous house isn't enough, the estate also has its own vineyard and winery.
You can probably guess who doesn't have to worry about drinking and driving.
Table, putting the table back in farm-to-table.
For once New American cuisine doesn't mean the new Doritos Taco Supreme.
Day two down south dawns bright and sunny, the overnight dusting of snow notwithstanding. A perfect day to check out Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
The unforeseen roadblock - quite literally - of a road closed due to the overnight snow means a quick morning walk to burn off those Asheville calories while waiting for the snowplows to open things up.
Is that all the snow? Seems the army of snowplows that are rolling in might be overkill. Down here that's just another example of Big Government (i.e. Democrats) infringing on the individual's right to kill oneself on an icy road if one so pleases.
This is supposed to be a walk in the woods, not a walk on the catwalk. Mei models the latest in New York faux-wilderness wear. You know, the kind of gear you bundle up in when venturing into the frozen wilds of Queens or the icy desolation of Jersey.
On the other hand, this dude is sporting the latest in Palmerston North student wear. This year's must-have items include thick, hooded parka for fending off the cold in unheated flats when you're too cheap to hook up the gas, and woolen beanie for avoiding frostbite to the ears when venturing out for a late night Fishtown fried rice.
When the road finally opens it's worth the wait and then some. Newfound Gap, right at the crux of the lofty pass through the mountains, is a winter wonderland. The trees, their empty branches encrusted in millions of frozen droplets, sparkle with a brilliance that would make a Swarovski store jealous.
In the distance, the Smoky Mountains live up to their name, each successive layer of hills flattened into a hazy silhouette as they fade into the brilliant blue sky.
Up here it's more than a dusting of snow. In fact in places it's a good foot. Or maybe six inches, it just looks like a foot when Mei is standing in it.
World Heritage, and for good reason.
Forget the Rockefeller Center tree, this takes things to a level man can never match, no matter how many strands of those nifty new LED lights he buys from Home Depot.
You know it's an impressive display when even a cold-hater like Mei is enthralled.
It almost seems like a crime to disturb the untouched blanket of snow on the path. Until you remember that there's a whole army of SUVs on their way up here, each bearing a cargo of snowball-throwing, sled-pulling kids. Enjoy the peace and quiet while you can, because you're about to see for yourself what that the title of America's Most Visited National Park is not necessarily a positive.
Despite the snow, it's actually not that cold even though it's one of the highest points in America east of the Mississippi. That's what Mei calls a winning combination.
The legendary Appalachian Trail is over 2,000 miles long. Needless to say, Mei has no intention of doing the 1,972 miles to Maine. In fact, after trudging through the first 100 feet in her Ugg boots, even the 1.7 mile option is looking a little daunting.
But once you get going, it's so spectacular you quickly forget to worry about whether your boots might be getting smudged. It's just that awesome.
How romantic. If it stays cold for another few months it might actually last longer than the typical Kardashian wedding.
Hiking is a lot easier when you get a photo break every five minutes.
Rock shows that even if he doesn't have the cell reception needed to Google "what to do if a bear attacks you" he still has the presence of mind to use whatever weapon is at hand. If he can manage to break it off that is, seems someone's gym membership isn't paying dividends just yet.
It's like someone sprinkled powdered sugar on everything, and then locked Rock in a room so he couldn't lick it all off.
Mei shows an attention to detail that she normally reserves for ferreting prawns out of a plate of fried rice.
No, this is not a blue screen.
Rock demonstrating why he's still waiting for his call-up to the MLB bullpen.
Try steroids, after all, it's worked for half the Hall of Fame.
This frozen waterfall is still moving faster than the traffic jam that has now snarled up the single road in and out of the park. Magnificence always has a downside.
On the plus side, the traffic is moving so slowly that there's plenty of time to enjoy the scenery on the way down the mountain.
How many shades of blue can you count? It's like those annoying paint stores where there's so many shades of a color it's impossible to pick the right one.
Back in Asheville just as the town is starting to get going on a crisp winter night.
Double D? Oh, I see, it's a dessert joint in a double decker bus. For some reason Rock had something else in mind.
