Perspective: A Week on the Blueridge Parkway

This summer has not been the best for my husband Jay and I. As I mentioned in my previous post we experienced the devastating loss of a loved one and our spirits flagged under the weight of memories not yet bright. We stayed in Atlanta, living in the world of graveyards and keeping the house clean for family. While we were grateful for the opportunity to help our relatives and grieve for ourselves, our sadness was getting the better of us. We needed a change in perspective.

I have come to realize that part of why travel and cross-cultural interaction brings such richness to our lives is because they offer us a balcony view. A shift takes place when you travel, whether you want it to or not. You are altered and jolted out of your regular rhythms and given the opportunity to look again, and to renew. We hopped in the car and headed for Asheville, North Carolina, hoping to hit the reset button on our souls. From the moment we pulled into the Crooked Oak Mountain Inn, our bed and breakfast spot, I knew we had chosen the right road. Trees surrounded the property and rocking chairs on a stone patio overlooked the Blue Ridge Mountains. The innkeeper came out to welcome us and showed us around. I marveled at how much attention and care went into each room, each crevice and corner.

Over the next four days I came to the conclusion that the Blueridge Parkway is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen in the world. We hiked through glorious vistas of the blue sillohueted mountains, tumbling waterfalls, and archways of trees. We pulled the car over every five minutes to gape at the overlooks along the Parkway, and the reality of life’s beauty stirred within me again for the first time in weeks. We delighted in sightings of groundhogs, deer, chipmunks, and flocks of wild turkeys. Every curve of the Parkway meandered and lulled us into a sweet peace of mind. I even had a new experience where I waded into the pool at the bottom of a waterfall.

But perhaps what fascinated me most was the culture of the mountains. Everywhere we went we felt the history of the music, the folk art, the men and women who worked on the Parkway, and the pride they felt in their accomplishments. We watched a film about a man who made his own fiddles as had his father before him and I wondered how deep my own roots went. All of the rangers and staff at the various national parks helped us to understand what these mountains really meant – an elevated sense of care, of place and timeless adventure.

Slowly our spirits restored a little as we dined on Asheville’s incredible, creative, locally grown, unique, flavorful food. Every morning the innkeepers cooked our breakfast from scratch: waffles, eggs, bacon, bagels, homemade muffins, fruit, and mint tea. After a day of climbing up to the waterfalls we reveled in dinners of shrimp scampi, coconut cucumber salad, grilled tuna, italian custard and homegrown pork with coleslaw.

Everyday I just wanted to hop out onto the Parkway. My jaw dropped every time we entered the road and I swayed to its rhythm, still feeling the pulse of the people who had built it. We breathed clean air and talked with friendly people, reminding ourselves that the joy of life was not too far out of reach in spite of our loss. As much as I value international travel, I was grateful to discover a santuary of perspective and renewal right in my own backyard.

Stay tuned for more culture dates, Part 3 of the Gulf Breeze Dream, and adventures in India!