PJ's 2006 RAMBLE

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September 22, 2006

Asheville and the Smokies

Another update from the Magick Hausse Internette Caffhe, aka "Z'otz", in New Orleans. Met up with a local scooterist named Chris and saw some sights today that are hard to imagine and comprehend, I will write more about it later and post photos as soon as I can, but for now I'm trying to do these updates in order so that I forget the details all equally... Tomorrow it's across southern Louisiana through Cajun country, hope to catch some live music in Lafayette or Mamou or somewhere.

I rolled into Asheville after dark, happening first upon the Standard Commercial Strip, where I could not help but notice the towering hillbilly signage of a gaudy motel called the Mountaineer Inn, serenading me from a mile away with dueling neon banjos. As I mentioned I try to cruise through a town to get a feel for it (and see what kind of restaurants, if any, are still open) before settling on a motel. But in this case, it was pretty much decided at first sight as the Mountaineer had some of the most incredible signage I've ever had the priviledge of seeing, and NOT staying there (provided it wasn't prohibitively expensive) would've bordered on criminal. But I still drove past it, through an excellent tunnel and popped out on the other side in sight of downtown Asheville, which looked nothing like I remembered it. In fact I wasn't sure I was even in the right town, though I'd only been there once, for a few hours, 5 or 6 years ago.

My only real memories of the place were some kind of coffeeshop with sidewalk seating near a vegetarian restaurant, and a shop selling cool rubber stamps on some kind of hill. I think I found the former but never the latter. So it was like being in a strange town. I had the sense that there was a "cool" area, (it's about 1/3 of the downtown actually) and eventually found it, though all of the places I wanted to eat had just closed (this will be a familiar pattern to anyone who reads these updates). Frustrated and dismayed after several stops on a wild goose chase of closed kitchens, I met a few college art kids who had also turned up to a vegetarian restaurant called Rosetta's Kitchen (which is apparently open really late some days, but not the day I went). They recommended a pizza place not too far away and I ended up seeing them there and chatting with them over pizza about Asheville, their work, other cities they knew, etc. We said the goodbyes and I headed back toward the Mountaineer to get myself checked-in. I think the room rate was between $40-50, pretty reasonable when considering that signage, the pool, continental breakfast and the original hillbilly paintings in each room. I got an honest-to-goodness country night's sleep under the watchful eye of the sign and woke up the next morning and had a nice chat with the owner, a Greek man who'd had the place for a long time and had motel-related articles and clippings on the wall. I enjoyed a nice continental breakfast and headed downtown to walk around by daylight, also hoping to get onto a computer at the Public Library.

I walked the downtown, popping into the typical shops of a town like Asheville, places selling African carvings, Nag Champa incense, homebrew supplies, Indian skirts, countercultural T-shirts and other items associated with hippies and college students. I don't mind this stuff, in fact I even like some of it, but Asheville didn't strike me so much as a place I'd like to live this time around. They do have some great vegan options, the place I ate lunch (Rosetta's, went back when they were open) was exceptional. But a little too small, and with a few too many jobless dudes with ratty beards whose bare feet I don't care to see and whose hackeysack I don't care to volley. Apparently the local job market isn't great since there are more people who want to live there than there are good jobs. Lots of homeless and begging for a small city.

I did manage to get a library computer for $1 for 45 minutes (after waiting an hour for it to become available while local teenagers "pimped out" their Myspace pages), which was long enough to check my e-mail and do a quick update. While in the library I had a mystery girl come up and leave me a note with her phone number on it and an offer of a couch to crash on, saying she'd seen my scooter and liked my jacket w/ the patches on it. Unfortunately this offer was about 14 hours too late and I was on my way out of town. She also left a copy of her 'zine on the scooter, and I tried calling her phone number but got no answer, so I never got to meet her. Too bad, the only such instance I've had on the trip (rare in life for guys I think).

The sky turned grey and foreboding and it started raining on me before I even got out of Asheville, planning to head through the Smoky Mountains toward Knoxville. I passed a lot of defunct hillbilly outposts, but one of the best stops I've made on the trip was a homespun Mountain Museum where one woman had basically done it all herself, setting up exhibits of mostly family heirlooms and putting her inkjet printer through its paces while tiling-out giant backdrops. She'd also done incredible things with styrofoam, both silhouettes and lettering. Folks like this woman make me proud to be an American.

On either side of the Smokies is a smattering of tourist crap; souvenir shops masquerading as "Trading Posts," (yessir, I've got a lame mule and three dozen muskrat pelts that I was hoping to trade for 50 lbs of cured ham, two woolen blankets, six ounces of gunpowder and that bottle of Elixir right there...). Cherokee is the sad town on the southern end of the park and Gatlinburg on the northern. Cherokee didn't have much going for it besides these shops and a booming casino industry, a shame.

Once I got out of Cherokee and into the Smoky Mountain Park the rain let up a bit and the scenery was quite pretty. 441 through the park is a good-looking road, similar to the Blue Ridge Parkway, though the BRP is mostly on the crest of mountains where 441 was up and down, and had less scenic overlooks and a less concessions made to sightseeing. If I remember correctly it was 30-something miles through the park on 441 (bisects the park and looks to be the only real road "through" it). As I rolled down the last hill and out of the park the daylight was mostly gone. Despite its mention in "A Boy Named Sue" (a song I've never cared for), I avoided Gatlinburg, seeing more than my share of tourist strip in Pigeon Forge, where Dollywood is. Got a little lost, as usual, and eventually got into Knoxville via Sevierville. Will write about Knoxville next time, been at this computer for over two hours now and need to get some sleep before the bayou tour tomorrow. It's pretty hot and humid here in New Orleans.

Posted by pj at September 22, 2006 11:00 PM

Comments

Posted by: Chris at September 23, 2006 08:26 AM

Posted by: Andrew D. Rebeiro at September 23, 2006 07:46 PM

Posted by: Andrew M. at September 23, 2006 11:30 PM