How to Spend a Fall Saturday

This weekend was a spectacular one, the kind I live for all year long.  Blue skies, a bit of bite to the air, trees beginning to display their fall costumes...  At least it was such in Atlanta, which is where I spent mine.  Andrew was scheduled to spend the weekend competing in a barbecue competition, so Katie and I made plans to knock around together.

The competition took place in Rome, maybe an hour or so west of where Katie lives, and was part of the festivities surrounding an air show .  The combination of barbecue and the USAF Thunderbirds was a hard one to resist, but we did decide to take the scenic route, so to speak, in getting there.  We had to pass near Woodstock (a really cute little town I've been made aware of through a business associate), so we decided to stop in and poke around for a couple of hours.

Our first stop was breakfast at J. Christopher's.  I'd been a model calorie citizen all week long; time to fall off the wagon in a big way!

Granola added to pancakes?  Genius!

After breakfast, it was time to grab coffee and explore.  My opinion of the town?  Let me put it this way, it's literally the perfect girls' day venue.  Very small, really only two main streets downtown, but the shops are fantastic.  I'll be honest, I get really bored really fast with downtowns that are jammed with boutique after boutique filled with Vera Bradley bags, expensive candles, cocktail napkins with witty sayings on them, polka-dotted signs, and pre-packaged pasta and olive oil gift sets.  Can you picture the kind of store I'm talking about?  Yes, those.  This little hamlet is different - think lots of fashion, but at a price point that us normal people can get behind, with a smattering of coffee shops, yoga studios, hippie art nests, independent bookstores, and yes, an olive oil and vinegar shop, just to keep it real.  I spent way too much money but at least I came home with tons of cute shopping bags...

 

I am a SUCKER for cool logos.

Cute, no?  And see what I mean about the day?  I get intoxicated just looking at it.

Katie could hardly handle this place...

No, this is not a figment of your imagination.  Pure awesome on wheels.

Because I found this hilarious.  How cool would it be to have this nonchalantly hanging on your wall?

We stopped in at the Vienna hot dog place, where Kate grabbed a chili dog before we hit the road.

Stomachs full and bank accounts depleted, it was time to head west towards Rome.  We parked at the Braves stadium (do you know how many years it's been since I watched a baseball game?  Something about walking past the ball fields gave me a powerful nostalgic urge...) and rode the shuttle to the festival grounds (accompanied by a little boy who said "Airplane!" approximately 19,875 times...).

I got a huge bang out of this guy's shirt.

The festival was everything you'd ever want it to be.  I think sometimes that if I were ever asked to present America in a nutshell to a visitor, I would want to take them to one of our small-town festivals.  They so perfectly encapsulate who and what we as Americans are, replete as they are with human beings of all shapes and colors and sizes (because, yes, heavyset is very much a part of our national identity), families in all of their various configurations, food - terribly unwholesome but in such abundance, games and noise and bright colors and music and shouting; so many, many things to see and opportunities to be entertained...  Somehow, I always feel a sense of pride and patriotism when I end up at shindigs like this.  Sure, we have our flaws; irritable parents yell at wailing, overheated children; clueless ignoramuses stand chewing on their fried turkey legs like zombies, right smack in the middle of the path of oncoming vehicles; trash cans overflow and lines are long and traffic gets snarled, and yet... I can't help but think that there isn't another place on Earth where we can gather in places like this, without fear of being attacked, or of going without; where, even though we might not like the jerk who cut us off in line, or we may not want a fried Oreo, at least we can coexist in relative peace, and hey, there's always fried cheesecake at the next food stall.  I know we as a nation are far from perfect, and hey, I even admit that we're walking down the wrong, wrong path and it won't always be this way, but I'm not too proud to say that I'm grateful for the security, the comfort and the prosperity that have been my birthright as an American.

Anyway.

ANNNNNDDDD, speaking of patriotism!  I FINALLY got to see the USAF Thunderbirds in REAL LIFE!  Why all the caps?  Let me explain it this way: when I was about 13, I wanted to be a fighter pilot (well, either that or an astronaut.  Nope, neither one happened).  These guys in their sexy F-16's and cool uniforms were the epitome of heroes to my starstruck teen self's way of thinking.

My 35-year-old self didn't exactly fall prostrate in adoration, but it was still pretty cool.  And I did feel a sense of pride at being a citizen of the most powerful nation in the world, one that can afford to send out some of the most sophisticated war-making machines in the world today, just to give its people a good show, and yet is pretty good-natured, in spite of all of that.  Anyway.  Enough patriotism already.

 

Awwww.......

Got to eat some darn good barbecue, too!  (I bought it from a vendor; barbecue competitions are not really about feeding the masses so much as impressing the judges, which is really dumb, in my opinion.)  I also got to meet Randy and Kirsten and their buddies and  their babies, and try some of Randy's (shriveled but delectable) grilled sausage, all of which was terrific fun.

The sky-writer's message to the long lines of shuttle-riders waiting below...  Hey, don't worry, be happy!!!

Great as these things are, after awhile, you've seen what there is to see, and it's time to move on.  Kate and I headed back to Alpharetta, but it was a fall weekend in North Georgia, so the festivities weren't over yet...

We detoured into downtown Alpharetta to join the second annual Wire & Wood songwriters' festival.  Food trucks plus nerdy intellectuals playing guitar and singing complicated songs equals good times.

A couple of bowls overloaded with potatoes and brisket and horseradish sauce plus a pecan pie and praline later, and we were both downright hashed.  It was a pretty straight line from there to the prostrate position, and blissful unconsciousness.  All being said, I couldn't have asked for a nicer Saturday.

Estuvimos en Puerto Rico! (Day 4)

Okay, I admit it, I took a sabbatical from blogging.  Bad case of the "I don't want to's".  I did learn something about trip blogging, though: if you want to document your journey, do it in the moment.  If you wait until you come home, it starts to feel unpleasantly similar to homework, and I am unapologetically in the middle of a no-homework semester, so....

But anyway, I'm back, and I'm going to do my best to finish the Puerto Rico trip out because a) I want to remember as much as I can, and b) hey, it was a complete gas, and I would be selfish to keep all of the fun to myself!

So, on to Sunday.  Off in the distance, I heard the sound of Anna's alarm, and then Anna leaving the condo for a run; I opted to continue sleeping.  No matter, though; about the time she returned, breathing hard and dripping sweat, I was comfortably emerging from my slumber, well-rested and far more coherent and sociable than I had been a few hours earlier.  (It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who wins the discipline award on this trip.)

Our original plan had been to head to San Cristobal Canyon and do some exploring, but, after talking it over, we decided to adjust the schedule a bit, and turn Sunday into a little bit more of a chill day.  (Funny how kicking back and swaying in a hammock for awhile will do that to a person...)

First things, first, we loaded up in Bill and Kim's minivan and headed towards breakfast, singing as we went.  We stopped at a little bakery/coffee shop in Fajardo and ordered our first course - eggs, toast, coffee, you know, that sort of thing.  It was Sunday morning and the place was hopping, so we ended up sitting in this little alcove off of the main dining room.  It was kind of an empty room with tiled floors and nothing but a few chairs and tables, and the acoustics were awesome, so...  Let me pause and mention that I absolutely ADORED traveling with the sort of people who sing as they go.  It's really hard to put into words the deep soul-satisfaction I find when I get to lift my voice in harmony with my companions, whether it's cruising down the road or waiting for breakfast to be served in a crowded restaurant.  I don't quite know how to explain it, but mere conversation just can't match this connection that happens through music.  Without a doubt, the world would be a better place if that sort of thing happened more often.

Breakfast?  Check.  Next stop?  Panaderia.  (No, I'm not kidding.)  I didn't get a picture, which is really sad, because we walked out of that place with a box full of sugar coma-inducing pastries, which we proceeded to devour immediately.  One flaky, buttery, dulce de leche-filled concoction later, and my body was cheerfully informing me that I had apparently lost my mind.

We headed towards Naguabo, a little town on the east coast of the island, maybe an hour or so from San Juan.  Bill and Kim had recently discovered the place, a little diamond-in-the-rough of a village.  It's a fishing community - we saw more than one pescaderia, promising fish as fresh as the ocean just a few feet from the door.  Farm-to-table is no avant-garde concept here, just a way of life as old as the hills, although frying everything in sight is still the sadly predominant food preparation of choice.

The town's in a unique situation.  Its economy was supported in years past by a United States military base, which recently closed, leaving the town struggling to survive.  What you're left with are some really nice homes, situated on hillsides looking out over some of the most beautiful views on the island, co-existing alongside a lot of poverty and disrepair.  The upside to all of this is some serious opportunity for those in the market for real estate bargains.  We engaged in a lot of stimulating discussion about what could happen if this little town, with its breathtaking vistas and depressed property values, were discovered.  It would be the creative set, we agreed, that could make it happen; imagine writers and programmers and artists looking for somewhere to escape and chill out.  Like attracts like, and next thing you know, you have a thriving community congregating around beautiful surroundings, cool architecture, peace and quiet, and affordable prices.  Makes for heady conversation, anyway.  That, and the sorry state of the island's culture, education and economy at large, which we found ourselves discussing in depth with the animated, bicycle-riding gentleman we stopped to ask directions of on the side of the road.  I love how a quick question at an intersection can turn into a sweeping, passionate discourse on the Puerto Rican psyche itself, complete with websites, email swaps, and promises of future interactions.

Seriously! Check out that architecture!

In any case, it was a lot of fun to poke around; we stopped and visited with one of Bill and Kim's new acquaintances, who invited us to his back porch so we could see his spectacular view and then loaded us up with avocados from the tree in his yard, we stopped at an almost-deserted sports bar for fruit smoothies, and we walked around the drowsy main street for a bit, browsing the makeshift market tables set up along the waterfront, selling everything from jewelry to bootleg CD's and movies (it broke my heart that we couldn't communicate with the little girl who came up to us and repeatedly tried to tell us...something...in rapid-fire Spanish).

It was mid-afternoon and we had church tonight, so we headed back towards San Juan, with a quick stop at a nice little gift shop in Fajardo for souvenirs.  We parted company in Condado - Bill & Kim headed home for a bit and Anna and I went out in search of something to eat.  (This is starting to get embarrassing.)  We ended up at Pinky's for smoothies and wraps - after a few days of nothing but fried food and sweets, fruit, raw tuna and veggies felt pretty virtuous.  Plus, it was just really cool to sit outside on the sidewalk, just outside the reach of the rain, leisurely observing the hustle and bustle of downtown San Juan.  This was one of those moments when I told myself that I could get used to living in a big city, at least part-time.  Walk out the front door and around the block to pop in on the folks and grab some weird tea and song practice, back out and around the corner for lunch and then coffee, and then stroll back home to clean up and dress up before heading out to church.  All easy-breezy, and no car needed.  Nice.

Church was heavenly, just heavenly.  I haven't worshipped with many believers outside of my own congregation, so, for me, to sit in a room filled with people who I'd never met before, who barely speak my language, and yet who are my next of kin in that they love and serve the same Lord that I do was so incredibly special.  We had the opportunity to participate in the service - Bill preached and we all sang, and to look out over those precious faces and see them worshipping my Jesus, gosh, it was amazing.  I've never been hugged and kissed so much in my life, never felt such an immediate sense of welcome - I walked away that night with a whole new family to call my own.  Anna and I ended up in the alley next to the church, singing with Ryan and Keila and Aby and Mia, accompanied by Anna on the guitar, and as we pulled ourselves away, their dad called out to me that now I had to come back to Puerto Rico; that his babies had stolen a piece of my heart.  He was right.  I'll be back to see Aby and taste her cooking and hear about Keila's big dreams for when she grows up.

Aby.

Keila.

I think we were on a little bit of a high, coming away from that wonderful experience.  We stopped at Seaweed, just around the corner from Bill and Kim's place, for some late-night sushi and edamame and a chance to hash over the evening's events, and then it was off to a good night's sleep again.

Sorry Kim, awkward angle.  But pretty amuse-bouche, no?

Nice presentation!  (It was late.  My already shaky photography skills were going to pot.)

My dear friends. You share these experiences, with folks; it starts to create a real bond.