Thursday, June 19, 2008

A little town called hippyville

When we were in Bonnaroo we loved our tent. Perhaps it was due to the long days and exhaustion that we felt that caused us to sleep so soundly on our floor made of yoga mat on top of plastic on top of dirt, but our night in the Smokey's was a totally different experience.

Firstly I got bitten twice on my right foot. Now I know in the past I have moaned about being the chosen one of all mosquitoes and as a result itching and scratching throughout the night with howls of ooooooof and woe, but in recent years they seem to have found a new victim and I have been fairly bite free my time in Israel. In addition i would like to point out that in all my time of being bitten the bite in question had never caused the body part attached to swell up to twice the size or form giant red lumps around the area. I exaggerate not... in fact we were not entirely sure what bit me, but lets just say that it was not pleasant to say the least.

Apart from the bites (as if that was not enough) the land we slept on was not exactly flat so we slept half the night with our heads pointing downwards and with the feeling we were about to slide into the brook below. That was until we had the brilliant idea to turn around and go feet first instead.

Then there were the neighbours moving in some time in the night making noises that at that late hour sounded to me like a chain saw wielding psychotic red neck with a little too much whiskey in him and the lust of fresh blood in his nostrils... we were the closest tent to his. Although I decided that the camp of young mathematicians that were opposite were definitely more appealing than our quarter aged blood that had been made impure I am sure by whatever it was that bit me.

Outside fireflies lit the woods while bright yellow caterpillars scaled our red tent and we fell into a deep sleep.

In the morning we awoke to use the amenities which were filled with the local wildlife looking for a place to stay the night. I became intimately connected to a small yet very friendly cockroach, packed up our belongings and headed out to our next destination... Ashville.

Ashville, NC is supposed to be one of the happiest places in the USA. When we entered their visitor center we understood why. The place was filled with information, computers with free Internet access, and some of the loveliest and most helpful people we have yet to encounter in the States. After an hour we booked a motel, checked our emails and decided to drop off our belongings and explore the town... with restaurant recommendations in hand.

Walking around the center of Ashville we saw cobbled streets lined with artists and street performers. On one corner a tattooed and pierced girl played banjo while her equally pierced friend with purple hair juggled. As we walked on Lior turned to me and said, "How come you don't play the banjo... hey?"

After some time walking around, hunger took over and we headed to the most recommended restaurant in town, The Easy Girl Eatery. I have to say this place was everything the recommendation stated and more. I simply could not get enough of the Fried Green Tomatoes and even though we were full by the end of the meal, when the waitress told us that we simply had to taste the traditional Southern desert, Red Velvet Cake, we simply could not say no.

I cannot begin to describe the morsel of heaven that we put in our mouths at that moment, suffice it to say I have been trying to recreate it ever since, but no red velvet has yet to be the same. Have no fear though I am on a mission to bring red velvet back home with me so you can all have a try... i just need to try and convince the chef at Easy Girl Eatery to give me the recipe.

Well fed and satisfied we headed to bed. Tomorrow the Blue Ridge Parkway.

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