He Bilt More

Today was a real treat, as we got to spend the day at the Biltmore Estate.  For readers unfamiliar with America's Largest Home® (they've trademarked that), the Biltmore is a 130 year-old chateau built by the George Washington Vanderbilt, grandson of sociopathic robber baron, Cornelius.  Whereas Cornelius owned the equivalent of 3 trillion dollars in today's money, George inherited only about a tenth of that, still enough to spend $189 million (in today's money) to construct and then lavish the 250-room, 175,000 sq. ft. house and grounds.  George didn't do a whole bunch with the family businesses--he was a bookish auto-didact and dilatant who befriended experts like Olmstead and Hunt in order to hire them to work on his home.  Some of the signage around the grounds has the gall to try to pass him off as an hard-working exemplar of the American Dream, but, no.  He was an idle rich man of leisure who, while he could have done a lot worse (as many in his siblings and cousins did), could almost not have been born into more privilege.  

If you can turn off the part of your brain which is considering how criminal it is for one person to be able to amass that kind of wealth to begin with, which is the same part that wonders how many stomachs could be fed with that kind of scratch, you will spend the day marveling at the beauty, ingenuity, and sheer architectural and technological genius at work in the creation of the estate.  

Highlights: it has two Monets, two Rembrants, a handful of Whistlers and Singer Sergeants, Napoleon's chess set, and a collection of invaluable 16th century tapestries.  It was the first place in America where forestry as a science was systematically developed.  It's unique, fireproof salon was secretly converted into an erstaz storage facility for America's most famous works of art during WWII.  Its original dairy farm has been turned into a winery with free tastings.  There's a petting zoo with baby sheep and goats.  Plus, you get to tour the servant's quarters in the basement for a real Downton Abbey feel.  

The kids did a great job of being cool during the day--and it was really a whole day's worth of activity.  The house tour featured a fun audio guide narrated by the Vanderbilt's dog, Cedric.  James loved the billiard parlor, and was even pretty unfazed when he ran into a wall and spilled his milkshake all over the ground (and partly on an old man's pants).  Juliet liked all of the tulips and the tropical plants in the greenhouse.  We had a tasty meal at the pub (named after Cedric, the dog), and then enjoyed an hour or so petting sheep and goats at the working farm.

It's worth the price of admission and then some.  They don't bilt 'em like that anymore.

Appalach-YAH!

Hello, good readers.  I know it's been awhile since I rapped at 'ya.  Like...a  long while.  Our amazing summer trip to LA/Yosemite/Bay Area in August was excellent, and we managed to sneak in another classic Cape Canaveral visit during Thanksgiving week, where we did Disney for two days and had unseasonably warm weather.  Fans of the blog will know all about it already, though, as we've covered that area extensively.

Anywhoozle, we sit in a very well kept Residence Inn in Asheville, NC as I type.  It's late, so I'll have to be brief, but it's Thursday of Spring Break week and we've had quite an adventure so far.  We left Chicago Friday night for beautiful Seymour, IN, and more specifically, a Fairfield Inn just outside it next to the interstate.  On Saturday, we drove to Pidgeon Forge, TN to a cabin we rented on the outskirts with the Stals + Anne and JR.  The "cabin" had a pool table, and an honest-to-goodness pool and putt putt course in the basement, and excellent mountain views from the monster porch, which was covered with rocking chairs.  It was egregiously beautiful, and surprisingly cheap as it's just spring break.  Most evenings we made dinner ourselves, and sat up late with cocktails playing games.  The kids loved the bunk room and the "movie theater" room (which did have stadium seating), and of course exhausted themselves in the pool.  Pretty much exactly what we'd drawn up.

Now, the town of Pidgeon Forge is wretched.  A strung-out corridor of neon t-shirt emporiums, discount knife shops, tourist chains, and Grade-D roadside attractions, the Forge is a cultural wasteland.  What has happened is that little Gatlinburg, crammed in a tight valley right up against the western wall of the Smokies, became itself completely engorged with this kind of effluence, and greedy Pidgeon Forge was there to collect the overflow, deep fry it, and serve it up with a side of cornball bonhomie.  Who doesn't want to come to Appalachia and visit an Al Capone crime and torture "museum," see wax figurines of Hollywood celebrities, and play space laser tag amidst badly poured concrete figurines of dinosaurs?  There is literally an all-you-can-eat food trough called "Aunt Grannies."  Oh, Pidgeon Forge.  

What PF does have, though, is Dollywood.  And while Dollywood is basically a Dolly Parton-themed Six Flags, Dolly herself is so winsome that her ubiquitous smiling visage and piped-in voiceovers alone elevate your run of the mill Six Flags experience.  Erica and I took James on a couple of legit coasters, and even Sammy went on one (and he hated it, as it turned out to be the scariest one in the park. But big ups to him for giving it a go!).  Matthew and Juliet contented themselves with smaller kid rides, and James even won a giant stuffed manatee (very on theme for eastern Tennessee) at a carnival game, and then had to hoof it all over the park for hours.  We even got to tour Dolly's old tour bus.  All-in-all, a great day marinating in Dolly-lore.  You'll like it if you go, and REALLY like it if you know more than a handful of Dolly Parton tunes.  

The other days were spent on shorter, kid-friendly hikes in Great Smoky Mountains National Park (alternatively spelled "Smokey" here and there on signage).  This is American's most visited national park, and it shows.  Though Spring Break is less busy than July and August, it was nigh on impossible to find solitude in the park, and numerous hiking plans were jettisoned because we couldn't find parking at the trailheads.  It is a beautiful place, and such a striking contrast with the glut of grease traps and chintzy souvenir bodegas that sit immediately outside the park boundaries.  But infrastructure on the Tennessee side can't really handle the endless crush of the visiting masses.

Today, we said goodbye to the other clans, and hit the road, going all the way up and over the Newfound Pass into North Carolina.  The Carolina half of the park seems to be a lot less crowded.  The vistas are better, as the mountains stretch farther away into the state.  The only town at the base of the Carolina side is Cherokee, which is the capital of the Cherokee Indian reservation and home to thousands of native Cherokees.  We had a late lunch at a breakfast diner and poked around town for a bit.  It was quiet, with few tourists, and several sleepy bric a brac shops.  

We took a short detour to hike up to the base of the 120 ft. Mingo Falls, then got in the car and headed for Asheville.  We all hit the pool before dinner at the very tasty Wicked Weed Brewing Co.  Tomorrow: the Biltmore!