In the autumn of 2019, part of what I now call “The Before Times” when there was no COVID and travel was easy, I was flipping through the October issue of Southern Living magazine when I landed on a photo that sent me 1,100 miles away from home.
The picture was part of an article on the virtues of Asheville, North Carolina, and why you should visit it as soon as possible. So I did.
That was all it took. That photo of the S & W Cafeteria, with its incredible Art Deco architecture and the leaves changing, framing it all was enough for me to decide on the spot to head for Asheville.
This is wholly unlike me. I am not a spontaneous traveler. Well, maybe I am now, but I wasn’t then. I’m a planner. An over-thinker. A pre-worrier, as my friends would say. I’m trying not to be those things anymore, but it takes practice. This sudden decision to just go off and see a thing 1,100 miles away on my own, without even telling anyone, was absolutely out of character for me, and that seemed like a good thing. A challenge. A little adventure. I wanted to get away from things, from myself, for a while.
I had a long weekend coming up at the start of November, just a few weeks away, and I booked a flight from Austin to Greenville-Spartanburg, South Carolina, so I could see the country on the drive in to Asheville. This was the first trip I had ever taken by myself for pleasure, and I was a little nervous. I had told almost no one I was going until I was about to board my second flight, in Atlanta. At that point, the feeling that this was slightly crazy (at least, for me) started to sink in.
Also, as a mom, I felt an obligation to tell someone where I was, in the event that anything should happen to me. (That isn’t pre-worrying, that’s just practical. There’s a difference.) I wasn’t expecting to get into trouble, but as a single woman traveling alone to an unknown place, it just seemed necessary.
An easy flight later, I emerged from the terminal in South Carolina, where a lovely woman at the Enterprise counter gave me the keys to a brand new, beautiful black BMW X3 for the long weekend.
“Are you sure?” I asked her, leaning in and keeping my voice low. I hadn’t paid for an upgrade, and I’d never had a rental car that nice before.
She nodded, smiling like the Fairy Godmother of Rental Cars. “Where you going, honey? Big plans for the weekend?” she asked, handing me the keys.
“Asheville…?” I said, still wondering if she wasn’t going to change her mind.
“Oh, that’s nice. Have a good time.” She smiled again and sent me on my way.
I took the BMW and ran. First stop: Sky Top Orchard in Flat Rock, North Carolina.
As it turns out, once I had made my super-spontaneous-and-not-at-all-like-me decision to pop off to Asheville, I did do some planning. I knew that I wanted to see some things on the drive between Greenville-Spartanburg and my final destination, and when I mapped it out, there was a pick-your-own apple orchard on the way. Perfect. Let’s do that.
I didn’t pick my own apples from the trees, as many people were doing, because I only had about an hour to spend at the orchard. I still came away with a bag full of beautiful apples of various kinds, though, thanks to the pre-picked selection inside the shop area.
I chose a few McIntosh, some Winesaps, and three of these gorgeous Arkansas Black apples, which I bought for my former father-in-law. They were his favorite as a kid and you NEVER see these in Texas. They’re a beautiful deep red, nearly black in places, hence their name.
It was fun to see all of the varieties, and the place was chock-a-block with happy families and adorable couples, and maybe even a few random non-locals, like myself. (Ok, let’s be honest, there was probably no one there but me who had started their day in Texas and stopped to get apples on their way to have afternoon tea, but I digress.)
That was why I could only spend an hour, and why I did not partake of the apple cider donuts (and the hard cider) Sky Top is SO famous for– I was on my way to have tea.
As you may know, I love afternoon tea, and there are many lovely places to enjoy it in the Carolinas. A Southern Cup Fine Teas in Hendersonville was right on my way to Asheville, so I’d contacted the owner ahead of time for a reservation. A short drive later, I was there!
How cute is that, I ask you?
As I arrived at 3 pm and they closed at 4 pm that day, I had the place to myself. Ms. Kym was incredibly kind and gracious, having assured me I could stay as long as I liked.
While we waited for the tea to brew, she told me how she’d come to the area, started the tea room, and found her place in the community. It was very sweet, and the reputation her business has earned is well deserved. Her tea service was wonderful. Please go visit if you have the chance.
One of the most enchanting parts of afternoon tea is that everything is beautiful and deceptively tiny, and as a result, you generally don’t have to eat again for the rest of the day. All of those finger sandwiches and sweet nothings in addition to a several cups of tea add up to a feast!
In fact, as much as I wanted to, I could not eat it all. I took the rest of my treats along with me to my home-away-from home for the weekend, a garden view room in an Airbnb near downtown Asheville.
I had booked a single room in a large house with a shared kitchen, living room, and bathrooms. It was quiet and comfortable, and my fellow guests, all women, were friendly without being intrusive. We were all there for our own reasons, I suppose.
You can see the fall colors that bring so many people to this part of the country at the top of the steps to the back garden.
The sun was beginning to set when I arrived, so I spent a short time getting oriented before catching an Uber to downtown, which was only about 10 minutes away.
I began my evening at Battery Park Book Exchange and Champagne Bar on the recommendation of my friend Kaitlin, who had lived in North Carolina before moving to Austin. Books and champagne? Yes, please. This was the perfect place to begin getting acquainted with Asheville!
There is an entire menu of bubbly to tempt you.
The shop is located in The Grove Arcade, another of Asheville’s impossibly beautiful Art Deco buildings. In addition to a staggering assortment of used and new books for sale upstairs and down, they offer wines and champagne, and live music every weekend. These gentlemen were just taking a break when I came in.
I sat awhile and listened to them, enjoying my champagne and the warm atmosphere. Nearly every table in the bar was taken. One advantage of traveling alone is that there is always room for one more, if you’ve a mind to join in, and finding a single seat is possible just about anywhere. Don’t be shy!
I recognize that I am not the most adventurous person out there, but there is something about wandering a book store while drinking that makes you feel just a little bit like you a breaking the rules and getting away with it. You little rebel, you. Go on, then.
And if I can break such rules under the watchful gaze of a giant moose head, so much the better, I say.
Champagne in hand, I wandered the stacks. Tables and cushy chairs arranged throughout the enormous space encourage you to linger, and people were doing just that. It really feels like you are roaming the giant home of an eccentric book collector who likes to entertain without actually showing up himself. I picked up a copy of Asheville’s Historic Architecture by Richard Hansley on my way up to the second floor to keep me company for the weekend.
Upstairs I found a quiet corner to myself, as well as more wonderful books on architecture, animals, history, and every other topic you can imagine. This was were I found Home in the Heartland: Midwestern Domestic Architecture by Robert Winter, which also came home with me.
There should be more champagne for no reason in life. And more moose heads where you don’t expect them.
It was getting late, but I was just getting started.
I took a short walk to The Claddagh, one of Asheville’s Irish pubs, for a very late dinner before exploring further and finally finishing up at The French Broad Chocolate Lounge, just a few blocks away.
Downtown Asheville is very walkable, and even though it was after 9:00 pm by this time, most of the shops were still open and there were several people out and about.
By now you are probably thinking, ‘A book store/champagne bar and a CHOCOLATE LOUNGE?? This sounds too good to be missed!’ And you’d be right about that. The French Broad Chocolate Lounge, named for the nearby French Broad River, is exactly what the name implies.
It is a big, beautiful cafe featuring hand made, sustainably sourced chocolates, pastries, ice cream, and a dizzying assortment of drinking chocolates. I capped off my first night in Asheville with a lavender liquid truffle.
I caught an Uber back to my rented homebase a very contented and tired traveler. I had come a long way in one day.
Leaving home in the wee hours of the morning and navigating multiple airports and flights to Greenville-Spartanburg, then my drive from South Carolina through the little towns and autumn woods to the orchard, followed by afternoon tea and my first experiences of Asheville–it had all been a lot to take in.
I had a full schedule planned for the next day, beginning with breakfast at the famous Early Girl Eatery (it was amazing, definitely go there if you can) and then a self-guided walking tour of the historical sites downtown, thanks to a map I had printed ahead from the Explore Asheville website.
First in our tour of historic downtown: The Grove Arcade.
(The champagne/book store mentioned above is housed in this building, as are many other shops and businesses.) It has an interesting history– construction began in the early 1920s and took nine years. It was supposed to be the base of a large tower, but that portion of the design was abandoned.
Closed to the public during World War II, The Grove Arcade was taken over by the federal government in 1942, and later housed the National Climatic Data Center. Community efforts eventually succeeded in returning The Grove Arcade to its former glory and original purpose in 2002.
I have to tell you, it is breathtaking inside.
I’m not sure it’s possible to fall in love with a building, but I may have swooned. It is that beautiful.
Part of the reason I was so charmed by The Grove was because the inside was a total surprise to me. I hadn’t given much thought to what I’d find before I went in, and I was just stunned. The stonework, the wrought iron, the ceiling made of glass– it is a very special place in a city almost embarrassingly rich with them. Let’s see a few more.
(Clockwise from top left: The Grove Arcade with the Battery Park Hotel visible through the ceiling; the Battery Park Hotel proper; Ben, beloved winged protector of The Grove Arcade; fiery red maple along Haywood St.; the famed Basilica of St. Lawrence)
I mean, come on, Asheville. The utter gorgeousness is just relentless! And we’re only a few blocks into this tour! I’m going to shut my mouth at this point– just walk with me, friend.
(Clockwise from top left: Central Methodist Church; Jackson Building and Blue Ridge Savings Bank; First Presbyterian Church)
There are more. So many more. But let me take you back to the reason for this visit for a moment: the S & W Cafeteria Building. Before you start judging, let me just say that cafeterias back in the 1920s were not quite what you might picture when the word “cafeteria” comes to mind today. In fact, this particular one was the first restaurant of its kind in this part of the country, and it was extremely popular, a place to see and be seen.
But even so, this gorgeous place isn’t the real reason I went to Asheville. Sooner or later, we all need to see and do and think and feel something different, don’t we? To be different, ourselves? Has this ever been more true than now, when we can’t travel, and we have to find this other part of ourselves somehow here at home?
I did not plan to write about Asheville when I went there. In truth, I had not written anything for this blog in well over a year, due to a series of catastrophic life events which at the time were devastating but, as it turns out, ultimately survivable. Here I still am.
Passing by the entrance, I found Save Me the Waltz in gilt lettering in one of the windows, which at the time struck me as merely charming and mysterious. I now know that Save Me the Waltz is a jazz club and craft cocktail bar in the basement of the S & W, named in honor of the book written by Zelda Fitzgerald bearing the same title.
Save Me the Waltz was Zelda’s only novel, written in a six-week burst while she was hospitalized for mental issues, and using her own troubled marriage to F. Scott Fitzgerald as its basis. Some critics argue it should be viewed as a work of fiction apart from this, as the story of a woman’s struggle to find her own identity and creative expression.
I can’t speak to that. But it did speak to me. It’s a struggle I think many women can relate to. And like Zelda’s book, this post is also overwritten– sorry for that. I’ll leave the rest of this story to a second post on Asheville, including more fall color, more chocolate, the North Carolina Arboretum and, of course, the Biltmore Estate. Look for that coming soon.
Until next time.
NOTE: Special thanks to photographer Cameron Reynolds for the kind use of her photo of the S & W Cafeteria. Visit her website here for more of her fabulous work.
Welcome back! Beautiful photos and what a lovely adventure. Thanks for sharing it with us.
Welcome Back Mom!!!