Southern Comfort

I realized after my last couple of posts, someone could get the impression that I had a miserable time in The South. Nothing could be further from the truth. I had a great time and found many things to like and love about the places I went. So, for the sake of accuracy, I have compiled a list of things I enjoyed about The South.

1. Friendliness
Having grown up in an area of Pennsylvania where the locals can most charitably be described as reticent, I appreciated the general atmosphere of friendliness in The South. People were helpful and sweet and willing to just have a nice chat with a stranger.

Even the mules are friendly in the South.

2. Their accents
As I stated in my previous post, I have always wanted to say "y'all" naturally. I seriously envy those who can.

3. Barbeque
I love barbeque. I also have no idea what the difference between good barbeque and bad barbeque is. Trying to find restaurants, people would tell me the barbeque someplace was decent, but when I ate there, it would taste amazing. Because of this, I ate more barbeque in a five day period than I usually do in six months. 

4. Fireworks stores
Fireworks are illegal in Pennsylvania, but vendors in Pennsylvania can sell fireworks to people in New Jersey, even though fireworks are also illegal in New Jersey (ah, the beauty of a country of laws). I say this to make it clear I have seen fireworks warehouses before. I have bought fireworks in a fireworks warehouse before.

If you love fireworks (and if you don't, you really don't know what you're missing), go south. I saw more billboards and stores related to fireworks in five days in the south than the rest of my life put together. Not only was there a heavy concentration, each place was big, usually about the size of a small airplane hangar. My excitement never dwindled with each sighting, so now about 10% of our pictures from the trip are of fireworks warehouses.

Sadly, none of those pictures were actually good.

5. The insane concentration of historical markers
Anyone who has read this blog has probably figured out that I'm a massive history nerd. When I see a historical marker, I get excited. I soon learned being a history lover in the South was like being wine lover in Napa. In Charles City, Virginia I saw four markers within ten feet of each other. The sight was so overwhelming, I almost swooned, or at least let out an undignified squeal of excitement.

I was almost run over in the process of getting this picture.
It was worth it.

6. The opportunity to finally experience song geography

As a music lover and college radio DJ, I love me a theme playlist. My southern tour gave me my best opportunity yet to indulge in my propensity for geographically themed songs. Carolina in My Mind, Sweet Home Alabama, The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down (both versions!), and basically every Pretty Girl song were all played at some point. However, my proudest accomplishment was the realization that there is a geographical error in the song Wagon Wheel by Old Crow Medicine Show: Johnson City is actually to the east of the Cumberland Gap. 

I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy

Previous to this trip, I've only been as far south as Nashville (Orlando doesn't count because it's basically its own country of theme parks and ridiculously expensive water), so I've never really felt like I could say I'd been to The South.  Now that I've spent some time there, I can honestly say I am a Yankee through and through. 

The reasons I was never so aware of what a Northerner I am until I went to the South are as follows:

1.) My level of patience
I like to think of myself as a patient person, but much of my time south of the Mason-Dixon line was spent racing through historic sites with a level of urgency that first bemused, and then annoyed the people who worked there. What's the hurry? Stay a while! was the unspoken remark in their patient smiles. Meanwhile, I was taking notes with the speed of a crazed stenographer at a horse auction. 

2.) My hatred of sweet tea
While in Tennessee getting a sandwich for lunch, I ordered a large iced tea, hoping it would cool me off after spending the morning in the already sweltering heat. I took one sip and almost spit it out since it was probably three-quarters sugar. From that moment on I was careful to make sure I was getting "unsweet tea" (which is a way more charming term than unsweetened iced tea). To be fair, all the unsweet tea I had was delicious, but the fear of accidentally drinking sweet tea was always there.

Union Uniform at Berkeley Plantation

3.) My lack of knowledge of obscure Confederate figures
My Civil War history focused mainly on what factors contributed to eventual Union victory, with a massive emphasis on Gettysburg since I grew up in Pennsylvania. But daring Confederate blockade runners? Not so much.

Barbeque joint in Warm Springs, Georgia

  4.) My undiscerning barbeque palate
It all tasted awesome. I don't know how anyone can rank barbeque since literally all of it tasted amazing to me.

5.) My accent
Although my accent immediately marked me as a Yankee, I was mostly just happy it survived. I have an unfortunate habit of picking up accents wherever I go. To make matters worse, I can't actually do accents all that well so I sound like I'm mocking people when in fact I'm suppressing the urge to forget the way I've spoken for the past twenty years of my life because I'd really love to say "y'all" in a way that sounds natural.

6.) My inability to cope with the heat
As a descendant of exclusively pale people, I've never fared very well in the sun. I don't tan so much as go through a burn, peel, fade cycle. Naturally, I knew the South would be hot. I knew it would be humid. What I didn't know was that walking outside would feel like entering the Amazon River basin and would cause every pore in my body to sweat like there was no tomorrow. 

The Night I Drove Down to Old Dixie (Part Two)

You can read Part One here.


After a pleasant sojourn through Tennessee, we were on our way to Georgia. Our route was supposed to take us across the Tennessee-Georgia border, coming within two miles of the Alabama border without actually crossing into Alabama. This was unacceptable to my father and me, but for totally different reasons. He wanted to check another state off the states he has visited; I wanted to confirm Alabama in fact existed.


Several years ago, I got it into my head that Alabama had ceased to exist sometime in the mid-1990s. I had just finished reading To Kill a Mockingbird for the second time and realized I didn't know anyone from Alabama and I hadn't heard of anyone or anything coming out of Alabama in the past 15 years (this was before I knew anything about college football). Somehow, my lack of exposure to the people and culture of Alabama convinced me that it had, in fact, been swept out to sea sometime around 1995, and the people of Mississippi couldn't bring themselves to tell the rest of the country.

Definitive proof of the existence of Alabama

As we approached the border, my level of excitement mounted to ridiculous levels. In a moment of frenzied glee, I started playing "Sweet Home Alabama" as we finally entered Alabama, and didn't turn it off until we left five minutes later. 


In Georgia, we stopped by a few historic sites near the town of Dalton. My great-great grandfather who fought in the Civil War was wounded there, and it was really cool to see the house where he recovered as well as the site of the battle where he was shot. 

House that used to double as the Union hospital
Dalton, GA

On our way back home, we stopped by the Jamestown National Historic Site. We had arrived just in time for the 105 degree heat (120 degree heat index!). This was made even worse by the fact that Jamestown was built on a swamp, so the added humidity made it almost unbearable.

The staff at Historic Jamestown warn us about the heat

Luckily, the site was interesting enough to make up for the weather. The area where the fort once stood is surrounded by a replica of the original fence. Archaeologists are still working on the site to uncover new artifacts to analyze, which are housed in a museum located just beyond the fort itself. There were more monuments than I ever would have imagined, including statues of John Smith and Pocahontas, looking a little different from their Disney counterparts.

Jamestown was the perfect end to an amazing trip because it brought everything right back to the beginning. With the benefit of history, Jamestown is a historic place full of meaning and purpose, but at the time, the colonists could not have known how important their struggle to survive would be. 

The Night I Drove Down To Old Dixie (Part One)

A week ago I started my Southern Tour of presidential homes with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. It was my most ambitious trip, consisting of the most average miles traveled per day. 

Fortunately, I had both my parents with me to help with the driving. Saints that they are, they came with me to each of the sites. This turned out to be a bigger commitment than originally intended; I only planned on visiting 11 presidential homes, but we ended up seeing 15. 

Amazingly, 7 of those visits were completed on the first day, thanks to a few last minute additions. The first of these impromptu stops was at Montpelier, the home of James Madison, which I noticed was only 40 miles out of our way. It was already closed, but we could walk the grounds. Our only company was a pair of deer, which added to the serene beauty of the place. It was certainly worth a detour.

We are spotted by the Montpelier deer

Montpelier, home of James Madison

On our way back to the main road, we came within a few miles of Ash Lawn-Highland, home of president Monroe, which I had no pictures of. We decided to make a stop there to get some exterior shots of the house since it was already late evening. However, when we got there, the parking lot was full. Turns out, a wedding reception was being held on the grounds. Not to be deterred, we snuck around, avoiding the wedding guests while we snapped a few pictures. Mission accomplished.

Shortly after this picture was taken, we were chased off
the property by enraged newlyweds

The next day, we visited Poplar Forest, the country retreat of Thomas Jefferson. While on the tour, we discovered that Jefferson had purchased a natural bridge for five dollars that still existed. We decided to stop by and check it out when we realized it was right on our route into Tennessee. As we got off the highway, we probably should have picked up on the warning signs that The Natural Bridge was not what we were expecting; namely, the billboards for a dinosaur theme park and Foamhenge, a replica of Stonehenge presumably made of foamboard.

When we finally arrived at the Natural Bridge, we had to walk into a large complex about the size of an elementary school that turned out to be a combination Visitors Center/Gift Shop (with emphasis on the Gift Shop). We briefly convened to discuss what would be an acceptable price to view the bridge. I maintained five dollars would be ideal, since that was how much Jefferson paid for the bridge, but we eventually settled on ten. Imagine our surprise when we learned that it cost $19 per person to see the natural rock formation. We were also informed that we could choose to either walk or take a shuttle to see it, despite the fact that it was less than a quarter mile away. In the end, we opted out of shelling out 60 bucks to see a rock and got some ice cream instead.

I only view rock formations for free

To be continued...