Asheville, North Carolina

The weather was perfect, so Boyfriend and I walked home from work. We had a quick meal involving a grilled combination of the expiring veggies in our fridge. We then packed and headed south to Carrboro, NC to spend the night with R.D.S. And when I say spend the night, I literally mean spend the night. There was a brief minute of chatting before we hit the sack—her sack, for a quick night of rest. Before long, we were repacking our belongings and migrating west to Asheville to spend a long weekend with my dear friend and her boyfriend. Upon arriving, we had no real plans. We intended to make plans prior to the weekend. In the same way we intended to pre-plan our Pacific Northwest excursion last summer. But life. With spontaneity as our guide, we wandered… until rain forced us to pause for lunch at White Duck Taco. As it continued to pour, we migrated up the street for coffee at European Coffee Co. Nothing quite says vacation like fancy coffee after a stiff margarita. Then—making a fine impression on his new friends—Boyfriend took it upon himself to declare 3:00 pm was the right time to start sampling Asheville brews. Our first stop: The Thirtsy Monk. While the men drank, we ladies salvaged ourselves for later, delving into conversation that did not involve (over) analyzing a lengthy beer list. We didn’t move for a long, long time. And when we did, it was decided more drinking and later yet another meal was in order. The evening was spent at Wicked Weed, which was probably the trip highlight. The atmosphere was awesome and very different from anything Boyfriend and I would experience in Washington, D.C. And, for me, they had real fancy, real delicious, real affordable cocktails while Boyfriend continued to delight himself with various tastings of another kind.

(Fun Fact: Asheville bars have water fountains or pitchers or sinks or pumps for self-serve water on an as needed basis. I, a heavy consumer of H₂O, found this to be just wonderful. Even the best server cannot keep my glass full. But those fountains, they just keep pumping. )

Saturday, we were up and out the door for breakfast at Tupelo Honey Cafe and a hike. As luck would not have it, Bloody Mary’s don’t exactly fuel one for hiking and someone fed me way, way too many biscuits (among other goodness). My stomach was literally dragging me down. It did not help that the trail was not as obvious in our comatose state… we might have roamed aimlessly until stumbling upon the first of two waterfalls. We had Upper Falls to ourselves throughout the duration of our time there. My directionally challenged Boyfriend found us the second, more obvious waterfall—Lower Falls—after sometime. He knows breakfast-moderation! I found a rock with J.L.W. to discuss virtually every minute detail of life since our last conversation.  I realized I was sunburned… and all the sunscreen I packed was back in the hotel. At this point, I decided it was best to call it a day. It was something like 4:00 pm; I still could not even think about food. My three companions foraging (for blackberries?) nearly sent me over the edge.

We drove down the Blue Ridge Parkway for some time before eventually finding less scenic roads to travel to the beloved Mountaineer Inn. Showers were in order, then more food. (Re: My stomach still wasn’t ready… but Mellow Mushroom was calling.) There was some post-dinner strolling around town. And some more drinking at Jack of the Woods before we headed to the River District to visit The Wedge. The River District was closing as we arrived (sigh!)… but The Wedge allowed us a night cap… and our companions, skilled in being pleasant customers after time in the service industry, felt guilty about this. So we might have finished those drinks super quickly. Afterwards though, we made a grand discovery, happening upon an open warehouse where people were blowing/molding glass. In awe, we watched for some time. We ended the night on this high note.

The next morning, we had our final brunch at Over Easy. I had fancy food, in moderation. I also ate slowly as to preserve these sweet, final minutes with friends. And also because I might have been dreading the seven hour drive that lay before me.

That was Asheville—friends, food, and the great outdoors. Is there actually more to life? I do think not.