The first settlement in America looked something like this.
And I have to admit the buildings were larger than I thought they’d be.
This was the church.
And I swear it’s bigger than the one in my town today.
I loved the thatched roofs on the cottages.
And we enjoyed poking around inside them.
Some of them were simple.
Some a little more grand.
Check out the armor on top of the cupboard.
Nothing like some weaponry over the dining room table to get the gastric juices flowing.
Speaking of that…. there was an armory.
And it doesn’t matter how many times I see these, I still can’t imagine having to wear them into battle. I mean damn, they make my underwire bra look positively comfortable in comparison.
Needless to say the husband was loving all the old tools and farm implements.
Yes dear….
Rusty metal…. I see it.
The last building we checked out was a communal kitchen.
And you know what I found… right?
Wandering at will….
Hoping something would fall off the table.
There were also fake cocktails, which is a rude tease to those of us who happened to be thirsty.
So we got up bright and early to make the almost 5 hour drive down to North Carolina.
Required Christmas selfie.
And as we were walking down the sidewalk of our resort it struck me…..
I might not be the only one who cursed my husband’s choice of the behemoth rental car.
It was an uneventful trip.
But we saw lots of cotton.
Really, a whole lot of cotton.
And absolutely nothing else. Nothing for miles and miles… except cotton… and I was starting to sweat the steadily dropping level of gasoline.
Behemoths be thirsty.
I also took issue with Apple maps when the GPS put us in the middle of a National Forest and told us to turn around.
WTF?
When the rental beast was pretty much running on fumes, we finally found a service station to fill it…. and us, since we skipped breakfast. The only choice was Subway, where I ordered a rotisserie chicken wrap and managed to leak half of the sauce on my blouse resulting in a large greasy stain.
My first words upon arrival in N.C. weren’t “Merry Christmas!” but….. “Let me raid your closet.”
My second words were “What you would like to drink?” as I unpacked my carton of holiday cheer.
Destiny chose a bottle to match her sweater, because coordination is everything.
We gave them our gifts…. and Gracie liked the books.
Though I think she liked the pig a little bit more.
We spent time with our daughter of the heart’s step children, John being home on leave from the Army.
As you can see they aren’t young enough to be hers…. because like me, she married an older man. Which her mother thinks I’m responsible for and never lets me forget, but hey.
It worked for me.
An old Marine Corps buddy of the husband’s came with us…. and it was a laid back country Christmas with lots of love and laughter.
A few highlights:
My bartending skills were highly rated.
And strange toys were questioned.
Does a llama really need to shake her booty?
But more importantly, why was this horror voted toy of the year in Australia?
In case you haven’t already guessed, there was not a single wine filter gift to be had in the entire state of Virginia…. so the only thing left to do was drown my sorrows at the Yorktown Pub.
This unassuming little place got great reviews and had been recommended to us by numerous people so we gave it a try.
While it’s definitely a no frills local hangout….
The riverfront views were lovely.
The feral cats were friendly….
Plentiful, and well fed by the bar owners and staff.
And while the cocktail list was basic?
The drinks were tasty, potent and cheap.
What more can a girl ask?
Good food.
The husband’s weird combination of chicken fingers and mixed veggies looked odd but he was happy with it…. and my fried shrimp were quite honestly the best I’ve had in years. Fresh, juicy, and perfectly cooked with a light crisp batter. Add homemade tartar sauce, some marvelous fries and another cocktail?
And River was a happy camper.
Long live beer diversity!
And cheap meals.
Since the sun was setting…
We took a stroll along the water.
Hand in hand…
Enjoying the scenery…
And the non traditional ways we choose to spend the holidays.
I think we’ve established we are not theme park people.
So spending 6 hours at Busch Gardens in Williamsburg while on Christmas vacation?
It’s billed as the prettiest theme park in the country.
And while I doubt that’s a very high bar…..
It’s plastic fantastic fake European villages failed to impress….. seeing they were less village and more overpriced stores filled with gimmicky tourist merchandise.
It was enough to make me drink.
Warm Apple Pie Cocktail in hand… we continued.
(You knew it was coming, don’t look so surprised. If ever I was in dire need of alcohol? It was then.)
So we paid a fortune, had drinks in hand and a 7 year old who wanted to go on some rides. Problem was… most of them weren’t operational for Christmas.
This did not go over well with the little person in our midst.
She couldn’t drink, and she didn’t care about fake Europe… she just wanted some rides!
We found a few animals to distract her.
But it was cold and she was growing more bored with each step. Every ride we passed? Locked up tight.
And then viola!
I spotted a gondola.
3 adults and a midget. We’re in!
So we get on line.
A long line.
A very long line that took us almost 40 minutes to reach the end.
We boarded, anticipating a leisurely ride over the park.
And I kid you not, after taking this picture….
And this video….
Which lasted 40 seconds, we were done.
One second of ride for each minute we waited on line. Totally worth it!
Not.
We landed in “France”.
And you know what? I’ve been to France…. this wasn’t even close.
Still not finding a working ride, I spotted Hogwarts and the child’s eyes lit up.
Yay me!
Boo Busch Gardens…. it was blocked off and locked up tight.
I was beginning to hate this place.
Psychedelic camera toting bear aside.
Did I mention it was cold?
I mean down right freezing for southerners and even quite brisk for us Yankees after a few hours of walking.
At least this made her laugh.
If we had known all the fun kid stuff would be closed? We wouldn’t have gone in the afternoon but just waited until after dark for the lights.
Even the scooter brigade looked disappointed.
We did mange to find an old time carousel.
Where we waited on line for another 30 minutes to ride for 30 seconds. You could seriously get whiplash from how quickly these things end.
Magic dragons were climbed on….
Towers were explored….
More alcohol was needed….
Okay, maybe that was just me.
Rope bridges were crossed….
Even by the husband if you can believe it.
Another warm up station later, it was starting to get dark enough to see some lights.
And yes, as cold and miserable as I was….. I was going to wait until dark for the lights we paid almost $300 to see.
During the 17 years we lived in North Carolina, we never managed to make it to the Outer Banks… though not for lack of trying on my part. So on Day 6 of this vacation? A three hour road trip.
Past the Lamberts Point Coal Terminal in Hampton Roads…
The largest coal exporting port in the country.
And if you think it’s pretty? Just imagine how nice it smells….
Yes. Kind of like that.
Over and through the Hampton Bay Bridge Tunnel…
And past some tempting tourist attractions.
Is it shocking we didn’t stop?
No.
It is not.
One more very long bridge later….
And we were there.
The Outer Banks of North Carolina.
The Graveyard of the Atlantic.
200 miles of beach.
Where the wind was so fierce it was blowing said beach right across the road when we got there.
It had been a mild 48 degrees in Williamsburg, but here?
It felt like minus 12.
Beachfront condos and rentals were everywhere.
And in every color you can imagine.
Neighbor’s roof blocking your view?
No worries, just build a deck on yours.
It never ceases to amaze me how little property they can build on these days. Our town has a 3 acre minimum….
At the Outer Banks? It must be 3 inches.
And though we were getting hungry for lunch…
Awful Arthur’s was closed.
Damn… and I really wanted to see how awful it was.
But since we have a good friend named Richard, who is sometimes called Dick?
We had to.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen.
I got my crabs from Dirty Dicks.
My She Crab soup that is….
And my hushpuppies….
And my Ocean Blue Margarita in a disappointing plastic cup as they had run out of funny bar glasses…. or so we thought.
I’m not a Bloody Mary fan…. but that looks like a meal in itself.
The husband had mussels and lamented over not getting a glass for his collection.
(Oh, did I tell you? Along with all the other ridiculous pieces of crap things he collects… he has now decided to acquire a glass from every fun bar or restaurant we visit.)
Did this place qualify as fun?
I don’t know….
But with fried potato salad on the menu it definitely qualified as southern.
Finished eating, the husband asked the waitress to rinse out the plastic cups so he could bring them home to our friend as a joke…. which is when she pointed to us to their entire store of Dirty Dick merchandise.
We should have known.
But it was too good to pass up and we bought him a hat, a t shirt and a bumper sticker for Christmas.
Our 5th day had us meeting the ex wife of an old Marine Corps buddy. There’s a long sordid story that goes along with this statement, but suffice it to say you never really know anyone. Honestly, you don’t.
The man we’d been friends with for over 35 years? The one we thought was honest, trustworthy and stable? Is now on his third wife, estranged from his children, drowning in debt, filing bankruptcy for the second time (while working as an accountant for the Federal Government) and being sued by his own lawyer for fraud. Did I mention he lies like a rug and told wife #2 that wife #1 accused him of having an affair with me?
I mean come on.
I know I like to drink…. but I think I would have remembered that!!
Needless to say it was a verrrrry long lunch.
But I’d never been to Virginia Beach before so we took a little scenic drive before heading to the restaurant.
My first impression?
Busy and crowded.
With the typical big city high rise hotels lining the road near the ocean.
Complete with all that ticky tacky crap I hate, designed to suck your wallet dry.
In other words, it’s similar to Atlantic City, Myrtle Beach and numerous other places we’ve visited along the Florida coast.
No thanks. You’ve seen one you’ve seen ’em all.
Even this gang of tropical fish escaping the surf and heading for the highway didn’t make it more appealing.
We drove down a few side streets to check out the houses near the shore…
Which was nerve wracking in that behemoth of a vehicle the husband had rented.
Seriously, it took up the entire street.
We found a few pretty spots, but overall? Being jammed right up next to your neighbor is not where I want to live…. waterfront or not.
So, lunch.
Was at a place called Rockafeller’s right on the water.
We got there early.
Okay, really early.
But at least we didn’t have to wait for a table with a view.
I have to admit I got a kick out of the illustrated cocktail menu.
I’m guessing this is for when you’ve had too many and can no longer enunciate properly.
If you can smile and point?
You’re not too drunk to serve.
This is the Mojito, which shouldn’t have been yellow but was tasty all the same.
One drink in, we spotted some fishermen bringing in their catch.
It doesn’t get much fresher than that.
Two drinks in, our friend arrived and we talked, and talked, and talked.
Or rather, she talked and we did a lot of listening.
And drinking.
Did I mention there were multiple pages of cocktail lists?
Maybe Virginia Beach isn’t so bad after all.
3 hours in we figured we’d better eat.
Crab and shrimp hushpuppies sounded like a good way to start…
They were huge, not at all like hush puppies and absolutely horrible.
Flavorless wads of fried dough. If there was shrimp or crab? I never found it. The husband had an equally bad platter of steamed shrimp. Which is hard to screw up, but they did, so I went the safe route…
And ordered a chicken Caesar salad…. which turned out to be practically chickenless.
I imagine even the mosiac Santa dolphin out front would have tasted better. But it was a good time and nice to see our friend.
So we left Virginia Beach…
And headed back to Williamsburg…
Wondering who Willoughby was and why he was spitting.
First stop? A decent place for dinner.
And proof that you can’t judge a book by it’s cover.
Tucked in the back of a very ordinary looking strip mall was a wonderful little Italian place…. that I can’t remember the name of to save my life.
But the garlic knots were to die for… light as air.
And my cheese tortellini alfredo with chicken, broccoli and sun dried tomatoes?
Ooh la la! So rich I had to take half back to the resort.
(I hope this quiets you food screamers. Two meals in one post. Now hush!)
River's world..... 