It’s 7am and we just pulled out of the Amtrak station in Charlotte. It was still pitch black when Stephie and I left the house at six but now the light is steadily growing and changing the sky from dark black-purple to orange, and now to neon pink. There are still puddles of fog nestled in fields and other open areas between houses. This is one of my favorite times of day but one I rarely see, also loving the mysterious potential of late night and my sleep. It has been a long time since I was on a train and I’m glad for the excuse to see the sunrise and to ride the rails again. It’s fourteen hours to Penn Station, plenty of time to catch up on stories and make new ones.

North Carolina was a lovely change of pace, in no small part because of Southern hospitality. I found the so-called charm very comforting during my week here. One day while I was reading on my friends’ front porch their neighbor, Miss Mimi, came home. Another neighbor across the street was working in his yard and she called out to him with a boisterous, “Hello! And how are you today?” They volleyed small talk back and forth for a minute and then I expected her to retire, not paying much attention to the new face. But, she turned and sent one my way: “And how are you today?” I was delighted, and responded, “Doing well, and you?” “Good! Have a good day, now!” she chimed and, satisfied, headed into her house. Exchanging pleasantries and conversation with other human beings seems to be sewn into the fabric of life here. People notice each other and make it known that they notice. I know folks from the South who say that there is a shallowness or a vindictiveness to the friendliness here, but I experienced it as a basic acknowledgement of human presence. We are sharing space, after all, even if only for a moment. It was a welcome change after living in and visiting cities where ignoring each other is the norm, or where attention and interest come with strings attached. Nobody says, “Gesundheit!” in New York.

A few days into my stay the rain eased up and Charlotte went back to being sunny, warm and muggy. The city woke up again, and so did we, deciding to go on a short adventure west to Asheville. Asheville is only two hours from Charlotte tucked into the Blue Ridge Mountains, an easy get-away destination for food, music and culture. I’d never been to Appalachia and only had a vague image of it from Deliverance-esque stereotypes and John Denver songs. I didn’t even realize that Asheville was in the Appalachians. Before coming to North Carolina all I had heard of the town were tales of its music scene. I expected bluegrass bands busking on corners and dive bars.

So, I was more than a little surprised when we ran across Moog Music headquarters, the folks who created modern synthesizers and helped usher in the age of electronic music. We stopped a moment in their store to play with theremins and analog synthesizers, the geekiest of the geeky music scene.

And, if that wasn’t enough, instead of finding a local sting band show Sunday night when we were exploring the night scene we ended up at the Orange Peel dancing to TOKiMONSTA’s set of indie electronic dance music. She’s one of the few, powerful, women DJ/producers in the electronic music industry and I was excited to see her spin, but didn’t expect it to be in Asheville. 

Even though the city is much smaller than Charlotte (83,000 versus 700,000) the food scene seems much more vibrant. We had dinner at The Admiral, a restaurant that is a homey dive bar by looks (I guess at least I got the dive bar part right) and an upscale, foodie restaurant by menu. It was a perfect place to relax and indulge in good food. We had a three-course meal of oysters, stinky cheese, blackened salmon, mussels with marinara sauce, beef tapenade with pickles, and a white cake with rosemary ice cream and fig jam for dessert. Everything was delicious and gorgeously displayed.

.

And, then there were mountains. Before venturing into Asheville we explored the Blue Ridge Parkway heading north to Mount Pisgah. The Appalachians don’t have towering, snow-topped peaks like the Cascades. They have mountains beyond mountains as far as you can see, layers of ranges in blues and greens that were just starting to be dotted with red and gold when we were there. The fauna is mostly deciduous and used to be dominated by the American Chestnut until a fungal blight decimated its numbers in the 1800s. There are many trails winding through the peaks and we wandered along one of them, never reaching any lookout point, but finding a lot of mushrooms along the way. There were plenty of stops right along the parkway with breathtaking views.

———————————-

It’s 6:10 and we’re about two-thirds into the journey and the landscape has made some drastic changes. Yellow and Kermit-green tobacco fields in North Carolina melted into pines and swamps in Virginia. Virginia seems much wilder than it’s neighbor. But, once we got to the state’s northeast corner and neared Washington D.C things changed again. Suddenly, there was the wide expanse of the Potomac and then the skyline and monuments of the nation’s capital: the urban North juxtaposed with the rural South. The industry of Baltimore came next and the boxy, clean lines of the New England coast. Now we’re nearing Philladelphia.

I like that the long ride gives the opportunity to take in the change in terrain, accenting the journey over the destination. It also allows time to meet people. My seat mate, Javier, and I have been chatting about traveling, dancing, and the Caribbean. He is originally from the Dominican Republic but has lived in Philly for the past 11 years. He’s heading home today after visiting friends in Burlington, NC. He’s also a barber and his clients have been calling his phone incessantly, asking when he’ll be back and interrupting our conversation. I guess he must be pretty good! I also met a woman named Jessurun who is originally from New York but has been living in Trinidad and Philly more recently. She is rastafarian and produces art and music with a focus on spirituality and empowering the African diaspora. She thought she knew me from somewhere but I couldn’t say the same of her, even though her head covering and fatigues did pique my curiosity when I first saw her. I think it was mixed-folk radar that confused her: we tend to spot each other in a crowd. Then there was the a rowdy family in the dining car playing rummy and snacking, who reminded me of our trips to Michigan when I was little. Playing cards in the dining car and eating microwave hot dogs was the way we passed most of the seven hour ride from Wisconsin to Michigan to visit my mom’s family.

——————————

As the sun sets and we pass through Philly I feel like I’m saying goodbye to the East Coast. It’s my second time taking this route. The first one was by bus just a couple weeks ago from D.C. to New York and was full of uncertainty and excitement for the Big City. I feel that excitement refreshed by my absence. I want to make the most of my time, not leaving any regrets when I head back west.