On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway, I heard the mission bell
Then I was thinking to myself this could be Heaven or this could be Hell
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor I thought I heard them say
"Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place
(Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year
(Any time of year)
You can find it here"
Her mind is Tiffany twisted, she got the Mercedes Benz
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys that she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget
So I called up the captain, "Please bring me my wine"
[ From: http://www.elyrics.net/read/e/eagles-lyrics/hotel-california-lyrics.html]
He said, "We haven't had that spirit here since 1969"
And still those voices are calling from far away
Wake you up in the middle of the night just to hear them say
"Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place
(Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
They're living it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise
(What a nice surprise)
Bring your alibis"
Mirrors on the ceiling, the pink champagne on ice
And she said, "We are all just prisoners here of our own device"
And in the master's chambers they gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives but they just can't kill the beast
Last thing I remember I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before
"Relax," said the night man, "We are programmed to receive
You can check out any time you like but you can never leave"
On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself,
'This could be Heaven or this could be Hell'
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say...
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year, you can find it here
Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes Benz
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys, that she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget
So I called up the Captain,
'Please bring me my wine'
He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine'
And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say...
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place
Such a lovely face
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise, bring your alibis
Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice
And she said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device'
And in the master's chambers,
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives,
But they just can't kill the beast
Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
'Relax,' said the night man,
We are programmed to receive.
You can checkout any time you like,
but you can never leave!
1. A moment or period in time perceptible as intermediate between past and future; now.
2. Now being considered; actually here or involved.
3. Readily available; immediate.
4. Alert to circumstances; attentive
For our upcoming adventure, one of my primary goals is to be present. I want to be open to new ideas, people, and experiences. I'm looking forward to being "out of touch" with my comfortable Seattle life sometimes as we explore the larger world. Ideally, my family will be on the same "Carpe Diem" quest – but will technology help or hinder us? I am anticipating some challenges . . .
I will start right off by confessing a dependent relationship with my iphone. I treasure the ability to call up Google Maps and just follow the purple line to my destination. I love having a portable calendar that is synched with Noah, three schools, and two soccer teams. I rely on my contacts list and the ability to "google it" anytime. Yesterday I called up my sister in Singapore and chatted with her on Skype face to face ON MY PHONE -- for free! How cool is that??!
Although I admit that in many ways technology has made my life easier, I also get a bit sentimental about the days when DVD players didn't come standard in mini-vans and face-to-face conversations between people occurred regularly on trains and in coffee shops.
My husband (and partner in crime) is an official computer geek and has worked in the wireless industry for over ten years. He will probably write a rebuttal blog entry extolling the virtues of modern technology tools.
He knows it bugs me when he chooses technology based connectivity over person-to-person conversation, looks up stuff on his phone during dinner, or worse – listens to his music on ski lifts with me! He usually respects my wishes. He may even make a solid argument about conversations via technology being no less valid. We shall see . . . .
Does anyone else think it is strange to take a school age child out to a restaurant only to have him play on his DS at the table throughout the meal? I have seen this more and more in the past few years and was even sitting next to a family recently whose child was playing a loud game without headphones as the adults chatted over the noise. Crazy!
I drive by our local middle school almost every day and see a vast majority of the kids walking in groups but not talking to each other – they are either listening to headphones or texting. Is it unrealistic to hope that won't be my kids?
OK, so my kids don’t have a DS or a fancy cell phone, but I am not opposed to using the videos and games on my phone to entertain them during longer trips. I also think it can be positive for them to be able to "tune out" sometimes. listen to their own music, etc. We plan on purchasing e-readers for them before the trip (possibilities here) and will have my old Iphone loaded with their music - but otherwise we have some decisions to make.
Essentially I think that, for me, it comes down to manners. I am not OK with my kids being rude because they are distracted by their "devices". So we will have to set ground rules for appropriate usage. That will take a whole new post!
Tourists tend to make easy targets for crimes of all sorts.
Wikitravel has some good general tips for how to avoid being a victim as does the US Government.
Most major cities have warnings about pickpockets and scams.
The core message in these "alerts" is that we (as visitors) need to be alert and aware of our surroundings in order to avoid being a target of crime. I guess I'm thinking that pulling out an expensive tablet as a map or wearing headphones might make us seem wealthy, less attentive, and thus an even bigger target. What do you think?
Our family 2012-2013 adventure will involve more sophisticated gear, but I believe that the essentials of travelling are the same. We can use technology to help us with all those things listed above and more. We will just need to balance our opportunities to "tune out" with our mobile devices (perfectly appropriate sometimes) with the goal of engaging with a new environment and soaking up the experience.
I think the key to achieving this balance and being more present is time. Our plans involve longer stays in fewer locations with community based volunteering jobs as well. We may cover less ground - but experience more.
I truly hope my ramblings have sparked good conversations. Please share your perspective!!!
Thanks for Reading! Hope you get the "Presents" you Desire and We Wish You a Joyful 2012!
Historic Charleston, South Carolina fairly oozes the genteel manner of a bygone era. Flickering gas lamps illuminate the city's gracious homes, while horse-drawn carriages ply her cobblestone streets. "Sir" or "ma'am" is the proper way to address someone, and even insults are softened with a gentle "bless her heart" at the end.
Indeed, cultured Charleston has been named the "Best-Mannered City in America," a designation bestowed by etiquette expert Marjabelle Young Stewart, herself better known as the Queen of Couth.
Yes, I know: The irony is killing you. But everyone knows that a trip report written by an ill-mannered barbarian is way more fun than a regular report, so stop your snickering.
Most historians agree that Charleston was originally part of the Carolina territory that was granted to eight Lord Proprietors by Charles II in 1663. The Lords arranged for the first settlement, Charles Towne, as it was originally called, to be established by English settlers from Bermuda under William Sayle in 1670.
There is, however, a little-known alternate theory, which is that Charleston was founded by a group of greedy orthopedists who conspired to create the most treacherous, uneven sidewalks in the entire 13 colonies.
They fiendishly arranged the craggy flagstones in a haphazard jumble, then sat back and reaped the windfall that resulted from the never-ending parade of twisted ankles and busted kneecaps. While their fellow settlers delighted in the peal of the town's many church bells, these bastards delighted in the unmistakable thud of yet another unsuspecting pedestrian taking a header.
We arrived on Friday morning to bright blue skies and warm southern breezes so, after dropping our luggage at the hotel, we decided to take a leisurely (read: painstakingly slow and wobbly) walk up to Hominy Grill in Charleston's Elliotborough neighborhood. Housed in a former barber shop, Hominy Grill is rumored to have some of the best Southern food in Charleston, so I prepared by donning my best elastic-waist expandable dress, and off we went.
There was a bit of a wait when we arrived, so we sat on the patio with a few drinks to, er, grease the skids for the abomination of fat and cholesterol to come.
I decided to try a John Daly, which is a boozy version of an Arnold Palmer made with local Firefly Sweet Tea vodka and lemonade. You can almost picture the advertising exec who thought that naming a mixed-up drink like iced tea and lemonade after famous golfers would make the game seem less boring. Nice try, but you could post strippers at all the odd-numbered holes and golf would still bore most people, um . . . stiff. Heh-heh.
Our meal began with a complimentary basket of boiled peanuts. Boiling the nuts renders them delicious, salty, and addictive, made all the more so by the fact that the softened peanuts are almost impossible to remove from their shells in one piece. So you could end up eating an entire basket just for the challenge of finding the one or two peanuts that come out completely whole. Hypothetically, of course.
Before I could get that far, our fried green tomatoes thankfully arrived. Although there is probably no one on the planet who loves tomatoes more than I do, fried green tomatoes are not for me -- the texture is just too off-putting. Luckily these came with a serving of homemade Ranch dressing, so I ate the fried breading dipped in Ranch (which is surely the official dish of at least one Southern state), while Angel ate the denuded tomatoes. Teamwork!
Next up was Hominy Grill's famous shrimp 'n' grits. Although I thought grits might be related to crowder peas or okra or some other little-known confederate vegetable, grits are actually made from a familiar ingredient: ground corn. Which are then prepared with butter and cheese and topped with bacon, which means they could be made out of sawdust and I'd still eat them. I may be a Yankee, but I'm a Southern girl at heart, y'all!
Angel went with the creole shrimp, which was a little bit spicy and a whole lot delicious.
I'd heard that Hominy Grill's vegetables were worth a try, so I went with the (mouthwateringly vinegary and salty) cucumber and onion salad . . .
. . . and the macaroni & cheese, which is vegetarian, so close enough.
After lunch we picked up a couple of those walkers with the tennis balls for feet so that we could safely navigate around town, then shuffled over to East Bay Street to look around and grab an afternoon cocktail.
We decided on drinks at Squeeze Bar, which bills itself as the "tightest bar in Charleston." Obviously the owner of this place has never seen a NYC closet.
Like almost every place we visited in Charleston, Squeeze Bar is a model of cool interior design, with repurposed egg-basket light fixtures fitted with bare Edison bulbs; rough exposed brick; a chocolate brown and pale blue color scheme; nubby ostrich upholstery; and a bartender who looks like he was born to serve up small-batch whiskey.
After successfully not dropping dead after that lunch at Hominy Grill, later that evening I decided to double-down . . . with some fried chicken skins at Husk. I know what you're thinking: Is it actually possible to improve upon chicken skin? In fact it is, if you deep-fry it, then serve it with a sticky-sweet dip made of honey and hot sauce.
Also amazing was the bread at Husk, which is so soft as to be almost ephemeral, and topped with a thin, buttery crust dotted with pretzel salt. The result is a bread so good that it doesn't even need butter but, this being the South, you can bet your bippy there is butter aplenty. But not just any butter: pork fat butter. I can practically hear Paula Deen cackling maniacally in the background as I type this.
The other dishes we ordered -- pimento cheese with country ham as a second shared appetizer, and the cornmeal-crusted catfish for Angel's entree -- were good, but the pork chop I ordered as my entree was, unfortunately, the fattiest, most gristle-and-bone filled piece of meat I've ever had the displeasure of leaving, almost entirely uneaten, on my plate (and which the waiter astonishingly failed to notice when he came to clear them). And so, if you are contemplating a meal at Husk, I'd recommend sticking to the bread and the fried chicken skin, and perhaps a nice after-dinner angioplasty.
Saturday's weather was just as lovely as Friday's had been, so we planned a walk from Meeting Street west to Colonial Lake, then south to the Battery, finishing up at East Bay Street. Not wanting to undertake such a long journey without proper provisions, we stopped at 82 Queen for brunch, which we chose just as much for the food as for their lovely courtyard.
Having decided that if the combination of fried chicken skins and Charleston's sidewalks hadn't killed us, nothing would, we each started with a bowl of 82 Queen's award-winning she-crab soup, which is made by combining a 55-gallon drum of heavy cream with 1 cup of crabmeat (measurements are approximate).
I decided to stick with sweet tea, while Angel tried the Raspberry Spritzer. Yes . . . I'm sure he's straight.
I tried to go a little lighter for my entree by ordering the Oven Roasted Creamy Chicken Salad. Now, you might think the word "creamy" would be a dead giveaway that there was nothing healthy about this salad, but this is the South. The fact that they added a few pieces of lettuce to the plate automatically qualifies it for the spa menu.
My plan to eat lighter was foiled in part by the industrial-sized jar of mayonnaise that was surely used to prepare that delicious chicken salad, and in part by Angel ordering this:
That's right: Just when Hominy Grill had convinced me that adding butter, parmesan, and bacon was ideal way to prepare grits, the evil genius behind the stove at 82 Queen goes and dumps a whole fistful of cheddar cheese on them instead. As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again!
After lunch we waddled over to Colonial Lake, which was notable for the fact that even though it was a gorgeous day, and a Saturday to boot, the lakefront wasn't completely overrun with people. Put a lake like that in the middle of NYC, and on a sunny Saturday you're liable to be trampled to death by an army of women pushing $1,000 strollers.
Later we made our way down to the Battery, where we took in the massive oak trees at White Point Gardens.
Oh, and the massive piles of bricks on Murray Boulevard, East Battery, and elsewhere.
Why be repetitive when you could also be redundant in addition?
Warm smell of colitas rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway, I heard the mission bell
Then I was thinking to myself this could be Heaven or this could be Hell
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor I thought I heard them say
"Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place
(Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year
(Any time of year)
You can find it here"
Her mind is Tiffany twisted, she got the Mercedes Benz
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys that she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget
So I called up the captain, "Please bring me my wine"
[ From: http://www.elyrics.net/read/e/eagles-lyrics/hotel-california-lyrics.html]
He said, "We haven't had that spirit here since 1969"
And still those voices are calling from far away
Wake you up in the middle of the night just to hear them say
"Welcome to the Hotel California
(Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
They're living it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise
(What a nice surprise)
Bring your alibis"
Mirrors on the ceiling, the pink champagne on ice
And she said, "We are all just prisoners here of our own device"
And in the master's chambers they gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives but they just can't kill the beast
Last thing I remember I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before
"Relax," said the night man, "We are programmed to receive
You can check out any time you like but you can never leave"
Paroles The Eagles Hotel California lyrics
On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself,
'This could be Heaven or this could be Hell'
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say...
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year, you can find it here
Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes Benz
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys, that she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget
So I called up the Captain,
'Please bring me my wine'
He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine'
And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say...
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place
Such a lovely face
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise, bring your alibis
Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice
And she said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device'
And in the master's chambers,
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives,
But they just can't kill the beast
Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
'Relax,' said the night man,
We are programmed to receive.
You can checkout any time you like,
but you can never leave!
T.M.I. - Can We be Plugged in Without Being Tuned Out?
Navigating the Dark Side of Mobile Technology as We Travel
2. Now being considered; actually here or involved.
3. Readily available; immediate.
4. Alert to circumstances; attentive
For our upcoming adventure, one of my primary goals is to be present. I want to be open to new ideas, people, and experiences. I'm looking forward to being "out of touch" with my comfortable Seattle life sometimes as we explore the larger world. Ideally, my family will be on the same "Carpe Diem" quest – but will technology help or hinder us? I am anticipating some challenges . . .
I will start right off by confessing a dependent relationship with my iphone. I treasure the ability to call up Google Maps and just follow the purple line to my destination. I love having a portable calendar that is synched with Noah, three schools, and two soccer teams. I rely on my contacts list and the ability to "google it" anytime. Yesterday I called up my sister in Singapore and chatted with her on Skype face to face ON MY PHONE -- for free! How cool is that??!
Although I admit that in many ways technology has made my life easier, I also get a bit sentimental about the days when DVD players didn't come standard in mini-vans and face-to-face conversations between people occurred regularly on trains and in coffee shops.
Pressing Questions for Myself
- Do I really need the constant information and entertainment? Is being "bored" no longer an option? Staring out the window obsolete?
- Does the fact that I CAN share experiences immediately via Facebook or Twitter make that a priority?
- Is logging on to "Trip Advisor" better than asking locals or visiting the Tourist Office?
- Will I be able to turn off the navigation system and fly by the seat of my pants?
- Can I get OK with being lost or not knowing if the Sounders won?
Conversations with Strangers
When I was in my final month of Graduate school I was on a train from Boston to New York and struck up a conversation with the gentleman next to me (inspired by the books we were reading). Turns out he lived in Newport, Rhode Island and ran a sailboat chartering business. By the time we got to New York he asked me to send him my resume for a summer job. Despite the fact that I had never even been on a sailboat, I got the job -- and that one conversation led to two amazing summer adventures! I learned how to sail and got to live on Weatherly (a 12 Meter Americas Cup Defender) in Newport Harbor! How much I would have missed if I had been hooked into headphones on that train?My husband (and partner in crime) is an official computer geek and has worked in the wireless industry for over ten years. He will probably write a rebuttal blog entry extolling the virtues of modern technology tools.
He knows it bugs me when he chooses technology based connectivity over person-to-person conversation, looks up stuff on his phone during dinner, or worse – listens to his music on ski lifts with me! He usually respects my wishes. He may even make a solid argument about conversations via technology being no less valid. We shall see . . . .
Does anyone else think it is strange to take a school age child out to a restaurant only to have him play on his DS at the table throughout the meal? I have seen this more and more in the past few years and was even sitting next to a family recently whose child was playing a loud game without headphones as the adults chatted over the noise. Crazy!
I drive by our local middle school almost every day and see a vast majority of the kids walking in groups but not talking to each other – they are either listening to headphones or texting. Is it unrealistic to hope that won't be my kids?
OK, so my kids don’t have a DS or a fancy cell phone, but I am not opposed to using the videos and games on my phone to entertain them during longer trips. I also think it can be positive for them to be able to "tune out" sometimes. listen to their own music, etc. We plan on purchasing e-readers for them before the trip (possibilities here) and will have my old Iphone loaded with their music - but otherwise we have some decisions to make.
Essentially I think that, for me, it comes down to manners. I am not OK with my kids being rude because they are distracted by their "devices". So we will have to set ground rules for appropriate usage. That will take a whole new post!
Tourists tend to make easy targets for crimes of all sorts.
Wikitravel has some good general tips for how to avoid being a victim as does the US Government.
Most major cities have warnings about pickpockets and scams.
The core message in these "alerts" is that we (as visitors) need to be alert and aware of our surroundings in order to avoid being a target of crime. I guess I'm thinking that pulling out an expensive tablet as a map or wearing headphones might make us seem wealthy, less attentive, and thus an even bigger target. What do you think?
Striking a Balance
When my sister and I travelled through Europe in 1988 it was with the ripped out pages from "Europe on $30 a day" as our guide. We called home every week or so, read whatever paperbacks we could find in English, kept journals, took lots of photographs (with film even), and sent postcards.Our family 2012-2013 adventure will involve more sophisticated gear, but I believe that the essentials of travelling are the same. We can use technology to help us with all those things listed above and more. We will just need to balance our opportunities to "tune out" with our mobile devices (perfectly appropriate sometimes) with the goal of engaging with a new environment and soaking up the experience.
I think the key to achieving this balance and being more present is time. Our plans involve longer stays in fewer locations with community based volunteering jobs as well. We may cover less ground - but experience more.
I truly hope my ramblings have sparked good conversations. Please share your perspective!!!
Thanks for Reading! Hope you get the "Presents" you Desire and We Wish You a Joyful 2012!
Charleston Part 1: The Yankees Invade
Historic Charleston, South Carolina fairly oozes the genteel manner of a bygone era. Flickering gas lamps illuminate the city's gracious homes, while horse-drawn carriages ply her cobblestone streets. "Sir" or "ma'am" is the proper way to address someone, and even insults are softened with a gentle "bless her heart" at the end.
Indeed, cultured Charleston has been named the "Best-Mannered City in America," a designation bestowed by etiquette expert Marjabelle Young Stewart, herself better known as the Queen of Couth.
Yes, I know: The irony is killing you. But everyone knows that a trip report written by an ill-mannered barbarian is way more fun than a regular report, so stop your snickering.
Most historians agree that Charleston was originally part of the Carolina territory that was granted to eight Lord Proprietors by Charles II in 1663. The Lords arranged for the first settlement, Charles Towne, as it was originally called, to be established by English settlers from Bermuda under William Sayle in 1670.
There is, however, a little-known alternate theory, which is that Charleston was founded by a group of greedy orthopedists who conspired to create the most treacherous, uneven sidewalks in the entire 13 colonies.
They fiendishly arranged the craggy flagstones in a haphazard jumble, then sat back and reaped the windfall that resulted from the never-ending parade of twisted ankles and busted kneecaps. While their fellow settlers delighted in the peal of the town's many church bells, these bastards delighted in the unmistakable thud of yet another unsuspecting pedestrian taking a header.
We arrived on Friday morning to bright blue skies and warm southern breezes so, after dropping our luggage at the hotel, we decided to take a leisurely (read: painstakingly slow and wobbly) walk up to Hominy Grill in Charleston's Elliotborough neighborhood. Housed in a former barber shop, Hominy Grill is rumored to have some of the best Southern food in Charleston, so I prepared by donning my best elastic-waist expandable dress, and off we went.
There was a bit of a wait when we arrived, so we sat on the patio with a few drinks to, er, grease the skids for the abomination of fat and cholesterol to come.
I decided to try a John Daly, which is a boozy version of an Arnold Palmer made with local Firefly Sweet Tea vodka and lemonade. You can almost picture the advertising exec who thought that naming a mixed-up drink like iced tea and lemonade after famous golfers would make the game seem less boring. Nice try, but you could post strippers at all the odd-numbered holes and golf would still bore most people, um . . . stiff. Heh-heh.
Our meal began with a complimentary basket of boiled peanuts. Boiling the nuts renders them delicious, salty, and addictive, made all the more so by the fact that the softened peanuts are almost impossible to remove from their shells in one piece. So you could end up eating an entire basket just for the challenge of finding the one or two peanuts that come out completely whole. Hypothetically, of course.
Before I could get that far, our fried green tomatoes thankfully arrived. Although there is probably no one on the planet who loves tomatoes more than I do, fried green tomatoes are not for me -- the texture is just too off-putting. Luckily these came with a serving of homemade Ranch dressing, so I ate the fried breading dipped in Ranch (which is surely the official dish of at least one Southern state), while Angel ate the denuded tomatoes. Teamwork!
Next up was Hominy Grill's famous shrimp 'n' grits. Although I thought grits might be related to crowder peas or okra or some other little-known confederate vegetable, grits are actually made from a familiar ingredient: ground corn. Which are then prepared with butter and cheese and topped with bacon, which means they could be made out of sawdust and I'd still eat them. I may be a Yankee, but I'm a Southern girl at heart, y'all!
Angel went with the creole shrimp, which was a little bit spicy and a whole lot delicious.
I'd heard that Hominy Grill's vegetables were worth a try, so I went with the (mouthwateringly vinegary and salty) cucumber and onion salad . . .
. . . and the macaroni & cheese, which is vegetarian, so close enough.
After lunch we picked up a couple of those walkers with the tennis balls for feet so that we could safely navigate around town, then shuffled over to East Bay Street to look around and grab an afternoon cocktail.
We decided on drinks at Squeeze Bar, which bills itself as the "tightest bar in Charleston." Obviously the owner of this place has never seen a NYC closet.
Like almost every place we visited in Charleston, Squeeze Bar is a model of cool interior design, with repurposed egg-basket light fixtures fitted with bare Edison bulbs; rough exposed brick; a chocolate brown and pale blue color scheme; nubby ostrich upholstery; and a bartender who looks like he was born to serve up small-batch whiskey.
After successfully not dropping dead after that lunch at Hominy Grill, later that evening I decided to double-down . . . with some fried chicken skins at Husk. I know what you're thinking: Is it actually possible to improve upon chicken skin? In fact it is, if you deep-fry it, then serve it with a sticky-sweet dip made of honey and hot sauce.
Also amazing was the bread at Husk, which is so soft as to be almost ephemeral, and topped with a thin, buttery crust dotted with pretzel salt. The result is a bread so good that it doesn't even need butter but, this being the South, you can bet your bippy there is butter aplenty. But not just any butter: pork fat butter. I can practically hear Paula Deen cackling maniacally in the background as I type this.
The other dishes we ordered -- pimento cheese with country ham as a second shared appetizer, and the cornmeal-crusted catfish for Angel's entree -- were good, but the pork chop I ordered as my entree was, unfortunately, the fattiest, most gristle-and-bone filled piece of meat I've ever had the displeasure of leaving, almost entirely uneaten, on my plate (and which the waiter astonishingly failed to notice when he came to clear them). And so, if you are contemplating a meal at Husk, I'd recommend sticking to the bread and the fried chicken skin, and perhaps a nice after-dinner angioplasty.
Saturday's weather was just as lovely as Friday's had been, so we planned a walk from Meeting Street west to Colonial Lake, then south to the Battery, finishing up at East Bay Street. Not wanting to undertake such a long journey without proper provisions, we stopped at 82 Queen for brunch, which we chose just as much for the food as for their lovely courtyard.
Having decided that if the combination of fried chicken skins and Charleston's sidewalks hadn't killed us, nothing would, we each started with a bowl of 82 Queen's award-winning she-crab soup, which is made by combining a 55-gallon drum of heavy cream with 1 cup of crabmeat (measurements are approximate).
I decided to stick with sweet tea, while Angel tried the Raspberry Spritzer. Yes . . . I'm sure he's straight.
I tried to go a little lighter for my entree by ordering the Oven Roasted Creamy Chicken Salad. Now, you might think the word "creamy" would be a dead giveaway that there was nothing healthy about this salad, but this is the South. The fact that they added a few pieces of lettuce to the plate automatically qualifies it for the spa menu.
My plan to eat lighter was foiled in part by the industrial-sized jar of mayonnaise that was surely used to prepare that delicious chicken salad, and in part by Angel ordering this:
That's right: Just when Hominy Grill had convinced me that adding butter, parmesan, and bacon was ideal way to prepare grits, the evil genius behind the stove at 82 Queen goes and dumps a whole fistful of cheddar cheese on them instead. As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again!
After lunch we waddled over to Colonial Lake, which was notable for the fact that even though it was a gorgeous day, and a Saturday to boot, the lakefront wasn't completely overrun with people. Put a lake like that in the middle of NYC, and on a sunny Saturday you're liable to be trampled to death by an army of women pushing $1,000 strollers.
Later we made our way down to the Battery, where we took in the massive oak trees at White Point Gardens.
Oh, and the massive piles of bricks on Murray Boulevard, East Battery, and elsewhere.
Why be repetitive when you could also be redundant in addition?
