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Words/stories hopefully tomorrow.

Today Mardi Gras is being celebrated in New Orleans, and though I’m a little too old to be flashing my jiggly bits for dime store beads, I’m not too old to ingest a hurricane or three and pour myself into a cab at the end of a night in the city with my seester and her friend Liz.

Friday morning I’ll throw a bag in the car, grab the iPod, load up on caffeine and hit the road; landing ultimately in cajunville.

The trip isn’t a response to my previous jumping-out-of-my-skin post and subsequent comments a go-go, but rather is a trip we’ve had on the books for a few months. Said fabulous sister somehow landed herself a free weekend at The Ritz in NOLA, and chose to share it with us. *Yeay* for sisters and girls weekends in exciting locales! Yeay for non-questionable lodging!

Having never been to New Orleans before and having recently been afflicted with a condition commonly referred to as “gottatakeapictureofthatitis”, I’m stoked. I’m stoked to fly by the seat of my pants, and I’m stoked that Liz is an LA native who will make certain I don’t miss any of the must see/do’s, I’m stoked to spend time practicing my writing about a place with such a rich history and a stormy (pun intended) past and I’m stoked that the weather is gonna be nizzzzeee.

On my list of things to see/do/ingest/take pictures of/experience: French Quarter, Bourbon Street, beads in trees and other leave behinds of “Trash Wednesday“, étouffée, jambalaya, gumbo, po’boy , ride a riverboat, visit a fortune teller, go on a ghost walk/haunted history tour, stay up past my bedtime and listen to some live jazz, *do not throw up*, hug Jennifer a lot, laugh till my belly hurts, listen to Liz and jot down the hilarious and brilliant things she says, make sure to get another bat-face picture.

With a list like that it wouldn’t seem there’s any room for spontaneity, but I assure you: there will be.

Anything in particular you think I should see/do or not see/do?

Can. Not. Wait.

I’m having one of my moments.

The kind where even my skin is suffocating me and I want to shake it loose and run away for the weekend/a month/a year/forever.

I want scenery and solitude and most of all I want it cheap. I want something new and I don’t want to have to talk to other humans or spend a lot of loot…just have pretty stuff to look at and pretty/interesting bits to look at while I wander.

It won’t happen this weekend because it’s too late. A bite sized escape will probably happen next weekend followed a month or two later by a bigger, better, badder escape.

For now, I need help with next weekend. Driving somewhere seems the logical choice (if you don’t look at gas prices) but frankly there just aren’t that many places to drive to from Atlanta for a 1/2 day trip that I a) haven’t already been or b) want to go to.

You may suggest somewhere I’ve already been or you may not, but I’d still like your thoughts. Just remember: bargain, pretty, interesting.

I know you’ve been wanting to tell me where to go for some time, now’s your chance.

Helen is the kind of place you only have to go once in your life.

It’s a Bavarian inspired village in North Georgia on the cusp of the Unicoi National Forest, a two hour drive from the ATL if you make the trip late Friday rush hour traffic.

My once in a life time visit was out of my system in January when I went with the PFL, but recently a girls weekend called for a cabin with a hot tub, a fireplace and no creepy blue velor couch within a few hours of Atlanta and somewhere Kelly hadn’t been before. Kel is a semi-recent transplant from Boston and after shooting down a half a dozen of her “what about this place” ideas for various reasons. I figured I should suck it up and go to Helen again - because it’s not every day you get to immerse yourself in a real live trashy freak show.

Helen is a place you hear about as a day trip idea when you live in Atlanta, but the stories will never be able to do justice to the sheer volume of crapporiffic wares, abundance of tacky tourists (domestic and imported) or the complete disorientation caused by all that Bavarian architecture being dropped off in the middle of North Georgia by what I can only assume were confused aliens with no GPS.

Flanking Helen are a winery and grist mill on one end and the previously mentioned Unicoi which includes Anna Ruby Falls. Basically, these bits of civility act like the Wonder bread holding all of the crazy in your sandwich.

Surely it’s not the only town in America where you can walk down the street and see a man in too-short sweat pants and white tube socks with Crocs donning a plastic Viking hat, or have a nippletastic Elvis hand you beads from the back of a convertible Caddy - but it might be one of a lesser number where you can experience these things on a day other than Halloween or when there’s a themed parade.

That said, there are a lot of amazing cabins to rent in the area, some absolutely spectacular natural scenes I haven’t been able to photograph with any justice, and a lot of charm in the way Nora Mill operates in a way that honors her traditions. There is also a lovely restaurant near Nora Mill and the winery (notice I’ve barely mentioned it? That’s with reason.) called The Nacoochee Grill that you’d be a fool not to visit if you’re in the area. After having one meal there and being romanced by the decor (you couldn’t ask for more clean, refreshing colors or a more open comfortable floor plan), the quiet, the fresh herbs growing outside the window, the insanely polite wait staff and the uber delicious vittles, we had to go for a second time on our way out of town.

So yeah. This review isn’t much of a review and I’ve already bored myself to tears. The good news for both of us is: I took a lot of pictures.

Summary: Helen, GA
Lodging: Cabins! Prices range between $260 and $500 for a weekend. Don’t ask me for any more details, I’m not your travel agent.
Likelihood of a return visit: 0%
Distance from Atlanta: 93 mi
Do:
- Go with lovely, smart, funny women who will keep you laughing. It will be important.
- Take one lap through town. Don’t miss all the alleys/nooks/crannys. Sample Scupperdine and Muscadine wine. Rinse your mouth out with gasoline (it will taste better than the wine). Get some fudge. Take a picture of yourself in the midst of it all, or on the bank of the Chattahoochee in the plywood cut out. Find the guy “behind” Helen playing what I can only describe as a dulcimer on steroids. I love that man. Note: if you follow the nooks and cranny’s, you’ll find him.
- Go to Betty’s Country Store and spend, spend, spend. The ambiance and style of this charming country store will lull you into parting with your plastic and not caring a bit. Don’t forget the cheap wine.
- Visit Nacoochee Village, eat at the grill and buy some pottery.

Time to visit:
- Early summer before the insects and kids are out
- During the height of summer for some tubing on the part of the Chattahoochee that’s not [as] toxic
- During Oktoberfest

In Murphy, North Carolina, you can’t buy beer in a store. You can’t order beer in a restaurant. You can, however; go to the local golf course and pick up a 12 pack.

You can’t buy alcohol in restaurants, but there are a few in town that allow you to bring in your own wine. And wine? You can’t buy it in an ABC store because the ABC stores in Murphy only actually sell A & C. You can buy wine from the shop in old downtown that shares space with the Daily Grind and the tiniest and most comprehensive bookstore I’ve ever visited but be sure to plan your trip there carefully. Every other Friday there’s a collection of folks reading and listening to poetry in the lobby and you’ll find yourself lurking outside the windows waiting for a pause. If you don’t, you’ll be the naked guy streaking across the stage. Confused? We were too.

In Murphy, the locals look you in the eye. At the 2000 census, there were 1,568 of them and or random sampling indicates 99% of them smile and say “good morning”. Stop and absorb that. They greet you. In a neighborly fashion, with a genuine sentiment. They actually mean “good morning”. For all the towns we’ve traveled to around the southern United States, and the towns I’ve visited in the rest of the US and abroad, I’ve never experienced and acceptance and welcome like the folks in Murphy give. We weren’t seen as outsiders or intruders or those city folk, we were immediately adopted as one of them.

Putting the people aside for a minute, let’s talk about location and amenities, shall we? It’s an easy two hour drive from Atlanta, two hours from Asheville and two hours from Chattanooga. Downtown is made up of approximately one city block and boasts a drugstore the likes of which America has nearly forgotten, complete with a soda shop inside that we’re told serves the best burgers in the area.

There’s a breakfast spot called the Moose’s something-or-another (I don’t recall, I stopped at “moose” since it reminded me of home and that’s about all I needed) where you can load yourself up on a buffet of biscuits (made with lard, hello!), grits, oatmeal, eggs, bacon, corned beef hash and a bottomless cup of coffee while eavesdropping on the old timers in the back of the room who are dipping themselves in steaming pots of nostalgia. People come in and out, greeting neighbors with a wave of recognition and leaving cash on the table. I loved this spot.

Half the reason we trekked up to Murphy was to fulfill a decade old item on my wish list: to visit the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest. Joyce Kilmer is a 17,394 acre tract of the Natahala National Forest of western North Carolina and the Cherokee National Forest of eastern Tennessee. It’s a short and painfully scenic forty five minute drive from Murphy to the north-east via US 74 (and through Topton, aka Meth-Ville) to reach the Natahala National Forest - which boasts 531,303 acres of land for your nature lovin’ pleasure. Kilmer was killed an action during World War I, on July 30, 1918 at the age of 31 and was perhaps best known for his poem “Trees”. Pictures here, should you be inclined to partake in my view of the forest and the trees.

The forest is also home to the road known as The Tail of the Dragon, for you motorcycle and sports car enthusiasts, and for those of you who aren’t? Pack your Dramamine.

On a ridge near downtown and overlooking the Hiawassee river and just behind the new fire station, you can spot a charcoal spire poking over a hilltop. This is the tip of a pyramid built as a memorial to a loving aunt and uncle by their niece Elizabeth Wyche “Lillie” Hitchcock Coit. Local legend will tell you that Lillie grew up in Murphy and had an amazing knack for showing up at the scene of a fire with cookies and refreshments for local fire fighters. After some time, the IQ was raised to a level where one of the townsfolk was able to detect a pattern to this and a quiet conversation was had with Lillie about her hot hot habit. A young Lillie abruptly moved to San Francisco where her hijinx continued in a modified form leading to her becoming an honorary volunteer in the fire department and a monument was eventually built in her honor: Coit Tower.

Murphy and the surrounding area offer a great deal more than a history rich with legend - the Hiwassee, Appalachia and Cherokee Lakes, parts of the Appalachian and Benton MacKaye Trails, and - are you ready for it? The National Appalachian Jeep Jamboree. Dood.

So, you can’t buy beer…easily. You can’t have beer with dinner in a local restaurant. What you can have is a long walk in the woods or float on a river or ride through the forest with all the silence, fresh air, and friendly faces you can handle. If that’s not enough, try the funnel cakes that the flea market on a Saturday afternoon. That’ll soothe whatever ails you.

Thursday? It’s for hangin’ at the DMV and organizing closets in preparation for a visit from a real estate agent. And Friday? It’s for trips to the mountains, knitting in the car, fresh crisp fall air and walking through big ole’ beautiful trees in a virgin forest celebrating the earth and limbs that work and a happy heart.