December 10, 2008
I am absolutely positive the technology exists that would allow me to work remotely from here and that I never, ever plan to leave. Even on this gray and sulky day where the sky is spitting drizzly drops of precipitation on me as I attempt to window shop on King St, I am in l-o-v-e with this city.
Matt and I came down to Charleston last night for his 2nd to last interview, and we are both just enthralled with this city. Last night we ditched the school sanctioned dinner (if you read this, probably not a surprise) in exchange for a date night/bar crawl of our own. Jason, having recently visited Charleston, had directed us to a seafood restaurant that turned out to be mere yards from our lovely hotel. On our way down, he had texted us to visit the bartender when we got there and pick up a mysterious something. A gift certificate awaited us and we enjoyed a most scrumptious meal – spicy and hearty Bloody Mary’s, an appetizer of grit cakes with a light garlic alfredo sauce, and cajun sauteed shrimp – calories don’t count on vacation right? Yum. Our experience was capped off with a visit from Maiar Hyman, who according to the history lesson on my menu, is the 3rd generation of Hyman’s to run the restaurant. (Gen #5 is currently in charge.) Maiar regaled us with stories of his days in Winston-Salem immediately following the Korean War, and how he was a big timer textile salesman once clinching a deal with the now-Sara-Lee owned Hanes brand.
Delicious Bloody Mary’s with Absolut Peppar… Yum!
After our feast, we wobbled on to the streets and looked for somewhere to take shelter from the drizzle. Our prerequisites were simple: other patrons present and live music. While this may sound innocent enough, keep in mind it was only 8:30 pm on a Tuesday, in December. Not exactly the High Season. We wandered into one bar on Vendue St called The Griffon, where 2 other tables were filled with patrons, and a guy with a guitar crooned acoustic versions of Smashing Pumpkins, Eagles and Elliott Smith with an alarmingly similarity. After two rounds of hearing the same wailing on repeat and watching the same drunk girl in ugg boots and a jean skirt heave herself at any present male patronage, we paid our tab and left. Music and boisterous voices lured us into a bar called Mad River that inhabited a former church across from the Market. Something about the half-hearted attempt at rugged outdoor decor (the canoe hanging from the ceiling), the overly cheesy party music (Paradise City when you’re sober? Nope) and the presence of what appeared to be an intramural sports team celebrating a season win reminded me of some other place I had frequented. It wasn’t until I got home that I put it together: the same bar (decor, music and patrons) was just 4 1/2 blocks from my apartment in Baltimore and I had spent many a Friday nights elbow-deep at Mad River.
After a round at Mad River, we wandered up East Bay St for a lap before succumbing to Wet Willies, a bar with every known daiquiri flavor to man featured in slushie machines on a wall 25 yards long. Matt sampled the “Attitude Adjustment” – a suspicious recommendation from the waitress – while I sipped a Bud Light. Sugar and alcohol don’t mix well in my system, and a 5-alarm slurpee is a guaranteed way to ruin my next morning. What really kept us at Wet Willie’s though was the entertainment. Six guests rotated through song after song on Karaoke, while the other dozen or so patrons gazed on in shocked amusement, egged on in barely concealed faux encouragement and took secret video footage (me). It was like being at a live American Idol audition, and hearing many of my very favorite songs completely ruined!
The Wall o’ Wonder @ Wet Willies
After a dozen ear-splitting performances, we pushed aside the half-finished daiquiri and called it a night. What a Tuesday night it was – from low key mellow bar performance, to pulsating party music, to heart wrenching karaoke, we experienced the finest that Charleston’s musical scene had to offer. However, we both agreed neither the rain or melodically challenged performances put a damper on the beautiful backdrop of Charleston.
This morning, we did a driving tour of Charleston and oogled out the window like a proper tourist at the gorgeous scenery on East Bay St. Had it not been raining, I would have insisted on a proper parking so I could shutterbug to my heart content. However, I melt in the rain, in case you didn’t know, so a drive-by sufficed for me. After dropping him off at MUSC to interview, I did some half-hearted window shopping on King St. Oh, Economy! Truth be told, I am out of my element in any location that has a real live Louis Vuitton store and no Forever 21 or Target as far as the eye can see.
In an hour, I will meet my gorgeous friend Mikell who I scrambled all around the beautiful pais de Espana with nearly six years ago. The last time I saw her, we bid adios in the Madrid airport, but with the help of facebook I have tracked her wanderlust as she’s moved from Costa Rica to Seattle to Peru to Columbia and now to Charleston. I’m hoping to convince her she needs a live-in nutritionist and should clear some room for Matt and I to take up permanent residence in her probably-non-existent spare bedroom. After lunch and some more wandering, I’ll pick up the student doctor and north bound we shall be headed, bidding Charleston a sad farewell.
December 8, 2008
The best traditions are the ones that start accidentally. Last year, we found out by pure coincidence that friends of ours from college, TJ and Fred, were traveling up to Blowing Rock for a weekend with their wives the same weekend we were planning on traveling down to Boone with Matt’s college roommate Jason. We were staying at Matt’s grandparent’s house in Boone, and intended to pack the weekend full of Guitar Hero, Street Fighter and some seriously long bouts of Doing Nothing. We met up with TJ, Fred and wives Kelli (TJ) and Michelle (Fred) the Saturday of our weekend and had one of those laugh til your stomach hurts kind of nights together playing Catchphrase, drinking wine, and taking ego pot shots the way that only college friends can do.
This year Jason came to town to take his LSATs here at Wake (and I suppose to visit Matt) and we found out the same crew was headed to Blowing Rock again. After the test Saturday we headed down there, making it officially a 2nd annual winter weekend in the mountains. The catch phrase was just as intense – in fact I’m surprised marriages survive being on opposing teams. The wine (and sweet tea vodka) flowed just as freely as did the barbs, and the laughter never ceased. Saturday night we went to a local BBQ joint where a Toby Keith-wannabe belted out his renditions of everything from Rocky Top to Mud on the Tires while the patrons clapped, whistled and clinked together mason jars of Budweiser. After dinner, we headed back to beautiful Chetola where the rest of the crew was staying. 
The Catchphrase battle picked up about 9 pm with 3 rounds of North (me, Fred, Michelle and Jason) vs. South (Matt, Kelli & TJ.) In case you’re wondering, the North won all 3 times. No surprise there. As the battle heated up, we traded teams (me, TJ, Matt and Kelli) vs. (Fred, Michelle and Jason). The 4-person team won again – an unfair advantage to have an extra brain? The Girls decided to test this theory and went head to head against the 4-man team of The Boys. It was a close and heated battle. Wine bottles were knocked over, fingers were pointed, marriages were tested. We were down 0-6, closed the gap to 6-6 and then took a 4 point lead to make it 10-6. Playing to 16, the boys closed it up again with another 10-10. We were point for point all the way to 16, but in the end the boys (yet another 4-man team) were triumphant. At the close of our 5th game, the clock had struck 3:30 am, so we unwillingly called it quits.
The next day we had a recovery breakfast at Mountain House – Boone’s very own version of Cracker Barrel complete with a front room full of tchotchkes for sale. Personalized mailbox flags anyone? Greeting cards with “When You Were Born….” anecdotes? Bike license plates? (They never have Meghan with an “H”… such a farce.) After a hearty mountain breakfast, we worked it off walking up and down the side of a small mountain trying to find the perfect Christmas tree. Granted, Matt and I have set up Ye Olde Artificial again this year, but partaking in the quest for our friends’ tree (as well as the much needed exercise) was nearly as exciting had it been for our own living room. Nothing like getting the delicious pine smell, mountain air, hot cider experience without having to vacuum up the needles at home later on. (NTS: Yankee Candle mistletoe candles go on sale after Christmas don’t they? There really is nothing like that smell…)
The ride home was a quiet one, but the 24 hour escape to the mountain was enough to refresh us and kick start December off with the true holiday spirit: the smells (the aroma of pine, the notes of red wine) the sounds (squabbling over Catchphrase sounds uncannily like my dad’s siblings squabbling over…well, everything), the sights (we saw our first snow of the year in the mountains) and the spirits (uplifted!). Here’s to our 2nd annual providing the kick-start to a month of more traditions and holiday spirits.
November 21, 2008
It is snowing in NC in November…. totally unheard of. Of course, we are not there. We are in sunny, warm Columbia, SC. (Sunny yes, warm is up for debate. Mid-50’s.)
Per usual for residency interviews, we had dinner last night with the other applicants and residents last. 3 hours of listening to them talk about “getting airways” (medicine speak for having an oppurtunity to stick a tube down into someone’s lungs) and “moonlighting” (working in small nearby hospitals for extra pay in your “free time”) and the terrors of July for an intern. (The “omg, I’m a doctor?!!? moment most 1st years experience.)
This morning I dropped Matt off at his interview and took myself on a walking tour of Columbia. The area down by the waterfront (river? canal?) is very nice. Very trendy and cute. Reminded me a little better of Fells Point in Baltimore, but newer. Lots of shops and places to eat. Probably not where medical residents live. The state capitol house was interesting…. and by interesting I mean, a confederate flag is waving proudly in it’s front yard. Is that legal? 
Now I am working (writing emails, blogs and facebook status updates + 3 legit phone call sessions) in my hotel room til late check-out at 1pm, then I’ll go find somewhere to eat and check out USC campus.
I’ll pick up the student doctor at 3p and we should be back home to snowy NC by dinner time. After his first six interviews, Matt went on a cancelling spree and went from 21 interviews down to 11. I can see why now. If one more resident asked him “So, do you have any questions about the program?” (knowing full well all applicants had to watch a SIXTY-FOUR slide powerpoint about the program that included details such as the program director’s middle name and that south carolina is known as the Iodine State and thus has the lowest incident rate of goiters)… I think his head was going to explode from repressed eye-rolling.
Still left on the interview circuit: Charleston, Duke, UNC and U of R.
October 19, 2008
Yesterday I made the trip down to Greenville, NC – home of the famous B’s Barbeque, the ECU Pirates, Lee Norris (of One Tree Hill and Boy Meets Fame and a fellow WFU ‘04 alum) and oh yes, Pitt County Memorial Hospital, where my husband is currently doing a rotation. ECU is on the list of possible residency locations so I thought it might behoove me to check out one of our potential areas of relocation… not to mention it’d been 7 days since I’d seen my husband and I was more than happy to pay him a visit too. I was truly pleasantly surprised by Greenville. I had a great tour guide, as one of our best friends and Matt’s host, is a Greenville native and humored me with a driving tour complete with a stop to the local Wal-mart. I also saw a Harris Teeter and not one but two Starbucks so… I’m set! What I truly did see that I loved was that Greenville is one of those cities that is on that brink of revitalization. Mike drove me down what was the old Main St downtown area in it’s tobacco hey-day and then over to the current “downtown” area, and every other building he pointed out was recently rehabbed, in the process of being rehabbed or just about to be rehabbed. It reminded me of one of my other favorite “work in progress” cities… B’more! (And maybe even Winston?) I just love picturing what potential lies beneath a dilapidated run-down warehouse. The places Mike took us out on Saturday night was a great example of the amazing rebirth of old architecture. After dinner at a yummy and obviously popular restaraunt called Starlight Cafe, we walked over to a recently renovated building that now houses a spa and a restaraunt called, appropriately, LA Lounge & Spa. Can’t fault them for being ambigious. I’m always a little hesitant about places in the South that christen themselves with NY or LA references, generally finding the result to be an exaggerated stereotype. I haven’t been to LA so I don’t truly know what a LA bar looks like, but I didn’t have any trouble imaging I was there once we walked inside. It was a very hushed decor, with palm and moss greenery everywhere, low light candles on deep dark tables and very, very pretty people. The martini list was extensive, creative and quite expensive. I had the Wall Street Red (Stoli Strawberi, cranberry juice & champagne). Kim and Matt both had something with pomegrante seeds floating in it, Mike had the Italian Kiss (of which I promptly stole his sugared strawberries, ingracious guest that I am!) and I believe Jason, inspired by our afternoon movie watching on Mike’s new blu-ray, had the no fooling around 007. What more could you ask for in a city: a martini bar with bubble chairs and pomegrante garnished beverages in the same metropolils as a barbeque joint so old school they shut the doors when they run out of food? (We did not have any B’s because they had run out. Of course.)
So, while I pledge to remain absolutely unbiased and open minded about our potential future cities of residences, I am pleased to say that I can now at least imagine carving out a life in one new place. Between martinis, starbucks, barbeque, and let’s be honest – walmart – I could be all set. One site visited, a mere 29 to go.
September 29, 2008
Why is it so fun to take people to the place you grew up? You know no one gets as excited as you do about seeing your elementary school playground or the first place you ever bought wine with a fake ID, yet you still get that welling of pride as you show off the many facets of your old stomping ground. Maybe it’s because we each have a story we want to tell about our lives, and visits to our hometown provide illustrations and references points that mere words and descriptions don’t sufficiently bring to life.
This weekend Matt and I went home to Rochester along with a number of our other college friends for a wedding of a college friend who happened to grow up in the same city as I did. While a trip to Rochester, NY doesn’t hold quite the same anticipation as a trip to the Big Apple or Windy City or City of Angels might, I do believe that beautiful Rochvegas did not disappoint my fellow travelers. (Either that, or they are simply too kind.) Rochester in the fall is simply beautiful too – especially if you are traveling north from the still-humid Southern states!
The wedding was a fantastic affair, made better by the reunion of friends who slept, ate and studied in close proximity for almost 4 years. The boys have a bond that has transcended the space that naturally fills in when friends graduate and go their separate ways. It is encouraging to see that their rapport picks up immediately wherever they last left off. In other words, they physically and verbally demolish one another immediately upon reconvening. Nothing like it.
We are defined not only by the landmarks we grew up around, but the people who populated those spaces with us. While I loved seeing my husband and his friends light up with each other’s company, the highlight of my trip home was time spent with my Grandpa. What strikes me as odd is that in 26 years of my life, this was the first time I have hung out solo with my grandpa. I guess this isn’t totally unusual, as most of my trips to see home would have been with family. Over an endless cup of Denny’s coffee, I grew bold enough to ask all the questions about my grandmother I wish I had asked while she was alive. The stories of her childhood that he could recall, to the moment he saw her, the first years of their marriage. My version of my grandmother’s life starts in 1982 and while every grandchild would love to assume they are the center of their grandparent’s universe, I have always wondered what the 58 years of her life leading up to my entrance, stage right, entailed. Grandpa, fueled by caffeine and an English muffin, did not disappoint. Hearing descriptions of people I have never heard of who shaped my Grandma’s life in her late 20s (my age now) as she met, married and mothered reminded me that I am part of a world so much greater than I but part of a family so tightly woven together. There is simply no way to get lost in a world where you are grounded by a family so dear, friends so genuine and a endearing love for the places that have witnessed these relationships.
Who says you can’t go home?
