You just never know what you’re gonna run into on the NYC subway.
Wikimedia Commons
(BTW, if you’ve never been, that relic on the right is what you used to need to get on board until fairly recently.
Yeah, it was outdated and needed to be scrapped. But unlike today’s Metro Card with no soul, it was a constant; an old, welcoming friend in a sea of strangers.)
Anyhoo, take a look. Lotsa fun.
The only thing this Nu Yawka knew about Country was when we moved to Nu Joisey, all our Nu Yawk relatives clucked in pity at our moving to the country. This was practically covered wagon days, when Joisey was really considered Country. And in many Manhattan minds, it still is.
And what do I know from Country kulcha? Tim McGraw (though as a Mets’ fan I knew more about his late dad Tug) and Stuckey’s pecan logs. And oh yeah, visiting a very ex-boyfriend’s granny who lived in a tin-roof house in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. I think she may have killed the chicken we had for dinner, but didn’t ask because I really didn’t want to know.
That’s about it for this Jewish gal from the big city.
So what was said Jewish gal who gets hives from theme parks doing in Branson, Missouri? That Bible Belt Las Vegas in the Ozarks –a backdrop for the Beverly Hillbillies?
Having fun.
Branson is everything you may have heard: As country as Dolly Parton – who has a dinner theater there. Live Music Show Capital of the World! More theater seats than Broadway! Religious theatrical extravaganzas, both Old and New Testaments! Gospel aplenty!
Trying to keep up with a fast-moving camel behind the scenes at a Christian theater company.
But let’s be honest: It’s not for everyone, and doesn’t try to be. The millions who visit every year are drawn by the W (for wholesome) rating and the strong Christian vibe.
I had a good time for the same reasons I secretly adore Cracker Barrel (one of my road-trip weaknesses; chicken and dumplings and Valomilks, oh my!) and singing in my car.
Branson’s like Cracker Barrel where you can stay over. Heaping spoonfuls of camp. Like padding around in pajamas with feet everywhere as an adult – and getting away with it.
Here’s some of its charms.
Respectable Titanic Museum
Titanic Museum Attraction
When I first saw a copy of the doomed ship parked along a Branson highway in landlocked Missouri, ready to “board,” I thought, uh, nope.
But since I’m such a sucker for the Cameron movie (I have the soundtrack on my iPhone), I got into it.
Titanic Museum Attraction
There was the replica of the grand staircase. And a pretty impressive collection of some of the real stuff from the ship and the wreck. Including kosher utensils used by the Astors for some of their last suppers.
Then there was the rough touch of a iceberg; trying to walk the deck as the ship was sinking; and the shock of the freezing ocean.
Titanic Museum Attraction
Not to mention two real Cavalier King Charles Spaniel dogs (the same breed as “Elizabeth Taylor” on Sex and the City) – a tribute to the dogs on the voyage. Unlike those dogs, these lucky girls were plied with nonstop treats and belly rubs.
When I boarded, I was given a boarding pass for a supposed actual passenger: a woman traveling in Third Class. So I couldn’t be Molly Brown?
I found out my passenger didn’t make it. I consoled myself with some vintage-looking earrings at the gift shop that sort of looked like what Kate Winslet would have worn in the movie. If they had been real gold. And resisted the urge to go for the bling that capitalized on the ficticious Heart of the Sea pendant from the movie. A bit much.
Entertainment 24/7
The hills are alive with all kinds of fare. Real celebrities like Tim McGraw, Jerry Springer and Charley Pride show up on tour. Continuous cover acts are dedicated to the Four Seasons, Abba and everyone in between.
Among the firsts for this Broadway maven: a showboat on a lake. The entertainment was a comedian and magician who apparently did time at Hollywood’s famed Magic Castle and was now in Wal-Mart country, trying out jokes about Wal-Mart shoppers. Well, I thought he was funny.
Silver Dollar City Attractions
And a violinist who can sing and play a mean violin up in the air, no less. This America’s Got Talent performer is a Julliard grad and Army vet to boot. Show-off …
Also tried my first country music show on for size. Have to say I was totally taken with the family act known as the Presleys (no relation to Elvis), who’ve been at it since the 1960s.
Standing by my man, country cutup Eric Presley.
I was charmed by the different generations, the tunes (really got into Stand By Your Man, the only song I knew — natch ) the homespun humor (updated with a Twitter reference), and the revelation that the cute, low-key drummer was married to Branson’s mayor.
Branson’s hard rock
A limestone cave that goes on forever was a welcome respite from the above-ground frenzy.
On a raw, rainy spring day, I white-knuckled it on the handrails as I navigated hundreds of slick steps carved from the limestone, ducking menacing fingers of rock jutting out everywhere. A nice high.
Rock ‘n’ Roll
I confess I didn’t try out what’s billed as one of the world’s scariest roller coasters because I’ve had an aversion to amusement parks since growing up at the Jersey Shore. Reason: I like being right-side up. Maybe you don’t. Got for it.
Good food, and plenty of it
I’m a victim, really, when it comes to starch-and-sugar fests. Homemade cinnamon rolls that put Cinnabon to shame. Double-breaded fried chicken, endless mashed potatoes and biscuits. Oh, and homemade Kahlua Ding Dongs. Yep. A waste of perfectly good Ding Dongs, if you ask me.
Seriously, one of the best meals I’ve ever had was at the restaurant school at the College of the Ozarks, where the students work in the dairy and mill for their education. The food and the presentation were almost too beautiful to consume. Almost.
Shopping
In addition to the usual outlets is a faux Ozarks village. Some of the stuff is really nice, like glassware, jewelry and pottery made by hand. Also plenty of chachkas. And fudge. Lots of fudge.
I was quite happy to find yet another Life is Good T-shirt, this one with a stick figure doing yoga and the words Total Poser on it. I needed the reminder to get back into it.
Got this trendy T in Branson. Whodda thunk?
OK, you might ask, what’s Nu Yawker Planet Lippstone doing in Branson, Missouri, that Vegas without sin?
Actually, having lots of fun.
BTW, that’s not some jacket I got at TJMaxx. It’s belong to this guy. He’s Eric Presley, part of one of the first performing families of Branson. Charming guy. Lent me the jacket off his back.
I’m here all week. Tell your friends.
Back home. Will return with all the fun details as soon as I get some pressing work out of the way.
Busy week. Back from North Carolina in time to hop the train from Pennsyltucky to Nu Yawk for a special yoga class that really helps with osteoporosis. For people like moi.
Manhattan’s Columbus Circle, as seen from the second floor of the Time Warner Center on an early spring day.
Gotta say I’d never been to this mall before, and you’re looking at the best part right here: the view.
When all’s said and done, it’s just a mall, with not much more than your average.
I went in search of a case for my new laptop. Figured some neat shop — or at least the Microsoft store — would have what I needed. If not, I could at least have the satisfaction of telling the Microsoft folk in person what I thought of their gawdawful software.
But they were too busy to listen to a rant that would have gone nowhere anyway. And there was nothing special anywhere. I left empty-handed, with advice to try Best Buy or Radio Shack ringing in my ears. How’s that for the ultimate shopping experience?
Frankly, I’ve seen better selection at some airports. (Bangkok, for instance.)
I will give a thumbs-up to the Whole Foods in the basement, just because it’s a Whole Foods. Again, not much different than any other. Just a lot more crowded, if you’re into fellow noshers practically sitting in your lap.
The truth about the Time Warner Center, as far as I’m concerned? It’s redundantly dull in a place like The Apple, which gets its sheen from all kinds of neighborhoods with all kinds of storefronts.
**Spoiler Alerts**
I’ll admit I was a little sour at the end of the first season of Homeland. I didn’t completely buy what drove Nicholas Brody.
But by the end of season two I was reeled in again, but good. I can’t wait for the return of Claire Danes and the band of merry Brits playing Yanks minus studly David Harewood, whom I’ll greatly miss.
The point of all this is that when I was in Charlotte this past week dog sitting for my sister’s brood, I started looking up all the filming locations for Homeland. (That when I wasn’t walking a golden retriever-chow who, in truth, was walking me.)
Rabid fans like me know Homeland’s shot in Charlotte, which I’ll admit sometimes doesn’t cut it as a stand-in for DC. But it was smart to film there for the North Carolina tax credits. Besides, fans, we’re not there for the scenery, are we?
Most of the locations aren’t that interesting. But there was one I’d always wondered about.
“Homeland”/Showtime
The scene where Brody takes the family to Gettysburg, Pa., and makes a little detour to pick up attire for his planned suicide bombing. Gotta have an explosive vest that works.
Since I’d been to Gettysburg and knew that part of the world, I was curious about that location and the production aspects. So I took a little excursion, but didn’t have to go all the way back to Pennsylvania.
Because here’s where Gettysburg was really filmed:
Mooresville, NC, an easy drive from Charlotte, in the middle of horse and lake country.
I’d read it’s used anytime the Homeland crew needs an all-purpose small town.
The tailor shop where Brody was outfitted is really this mild-mannered men’s clothing store that’s been around for decades.
No Brody lurking in the back …
… Just folks picking up prom tuxes on a busy spring afternoon.
“Homeland”/Showtime
Next stop, the “Heritage Diner”, where the Brody family had lunch. A resident was absolutely mystified when I first asked her where the diner might be located.
That’s because no such place existed; an eatery called J.J. Wasabi’s was the stand-in.
The menu ranges from Pad Thai to French fries. Had an all-American burger, and gotta say it wasn’t all that great.
Just had to top it off with some peachy keen, homemade Carolina peach ice cream at the Mooresville Ice Cream Co., where they make it on the premises. I’m told the show also took over this building during the Gettysburg episode.
I wouldn’t have minded a tour of Richard’s Coffee Shop and military museum, but it was closed.
That recipe and more, straight from a fancy bakery that has locations in Beverly Hills and Nu Yawk.
Or if you don’t feel like going to all that trouble, just go out and buy some. Either way, enjoy.
It’s Saaaaturday. So stop chasing your tail already and try to kick back. Hard, I know.
Take a lesson from a wise old woman. No, not me. I still have a long way to go in the wisdom department.
When in doubt, spread out, like my girl Ginger.
She just had breakfast. At the top of her to-do list now: back to bed. Nose-deep in dad’s T-shirt. With plenty of extra security blankets and stuffed toys.
Try it for a couple minutes. Maybe even the whole weekend …
Ever heard of Abbot Kinney?
He’s the person behind the street that’s the coolest block in America, according to GQ magazine.
This L.A. street was a favorite hangout of mine when I lived there. I don’t anymore — and miss this primo place to people-watch.
There’s always supposed to be lots of celebrities milling around. The closest I ever got to seeing any was when a movie crew took over my favorite place to get chocolate cake and I wasn’t allowed in. The movie was The Truth About Cats & Dogs with Uma Thurman and Janeane Garofalo.
There’s a whole lot that’s new. Take a walk with me in the latest issue of Going Places, Malaysia Airlines’ inflight mag.
For me, the next best high after travel is when I’m asked to play tour guide. Or offer travel help
A few weeks ago, two people who might as well be from different planets asked me for the same favor.
The first was a dynamic young Australian woman whose dad had been a friend for decades. She’s 18 and about to begin uni — that’s what they call college over there — and can’t wait to delve into her arts and law studies. Arts and law? She wants to change the world, and I don’t doubt she will.
The other, our incredible dog sitter (our beloved Dog Whisperer), who’s never ventured too far from home in Pennsylvania Dutch Country. Easily old enough to be the Australian’s grandmother. She, too, has a mission — to savor every second of life while she can still get around on her own steam. Her cancer is spreading.
Each asked if I’d show her around New York. That she’d only get on the subway if I — not exactly a giantess — was there for protection.
The Australian was visiting a friend in The Apple, and she was eating it up.
My Australian guest at the “Harry and Sally” deli.
We had a great time. Since she has some Jewish roots, we did the ultimate New York Jewish tour of the Lower East Side. The time-trip tenement museum (a museum for those who can’t stand museums); knishes at a place that’s been around since forever; and Katz’s Deli, where they filmed that unforgettable scene in When Harry Met Sally.
It being what’s known as Australia Day, no surprise we ran into an Aussie Day party in Manhattan.
We switched gears and did the whole Sex and the City neighborhood. I could have shown her so much more, but we had limited time.
When she found out I took an almost three-hour train ride from PA to get there, she was floored.
I told her I was happy to show off my hometown to someone so appreciative. But the truth was, it doesn’t take any arm-twisting to get me to Nu Yawk. And once there, I’m always like a kid myself. After we parted, I made a pilgrimage to a bakery I’d been meaning to try, ever since I’d judged a cooking contest that had a Nora Ephron theme to it.
After Ephron passed away I wrote a tribute. It got the attention of a blog whose members read books and whip up dishes based on those books. I was asked to judge the latest round, based on Ephron’s Heartburn.
The winner made cookies based on a recipe from one of Ephron’s favorite hangouts, Levain Bakery. They looked so delish, I filed away the place for a future visit.
Is this Levain specimen a muffin or cookie? It tasted like both. Pretty good, but not the best I’ve ever had.
Anyway, when our dog sitter’s ready to visit New York (she says she’d like to wait until it’s a little warmer) I have a completely different itinerary lined up for her. Actually, I can custom-make one for anyone.
Meanwhile, a work colleague traveling to LA (also my old stomping grounds) asked if I could point him in the right direction with airfare and lodging. I did a little comparison shopping on places like airfarewatchdog, KAYAK and plain ‘ole Google and did OK. I also turned him on to Airbnb, my favorite place to find reasonable, fascinating digs. Used them in three countries so far. Can’t wait to hear how it goes.
I’m telling you all this because after all the globetrotting I’ve done, I still get excited about traveling just about anywhere. To me, travel is still the best learning experience anyone can ever have.
I continue to be wowed when others feel the same.
Got travel questions? I’m here to help.
For me, half the fun of going to a new country is trying out the food. With every place quickly becoming like every other place, it’s sometimes the only way you know you’re in another country. Besides the language, of course.
I’d already been introduced to Icelandic chocolate at Whole Foods. Subliminally, I think that’s one of the reasons I wanted to go there. Because I was charmed by the wrapping — it looked so other-worldly.
And I’d had Icelandic yogurt from my local supermarket. So I felt right at home with the local brand.
Along with the traditional Scandinavian flatbread.
As with any country where farming’s big, the cheese was also excellent.
And the butter was dreamy.
The pastries looked yummy. Truthfully, they weren’t nearly as good as they looked. Tasteless, gummy dough.
I was ready to move on to more substantial fare. But one glance at this menu at a joint around the corner in Reykjavik dulled my appetite in a big way.
Fermented shark that supposedly reeked of ammonia? How do you say no thanks in Icelandic? (Even Anthony Bourdain, with his iron gut, didn’t care for it.) Sounded to me like a worse version of beef jerky, which has never touched my lips either.
Sheep-head jelly with turnip? What the what?
And rye bread ice cream? Nope. I once tried lobster ice cream, and that was enough of a culinary adventure for me.
The bigger blow to my appetite was while we were in a nice upscale deli in Reykjavik. There were the nice cheeses …
And the nice designer chocolates.
And in the deli case, the nice cooked horse meat. No, I wouldn’t dream of assaulting your senses with a picture. (This was especially jarring for me; I haven’t been able to watch the film War Horse because I didn’t want to see the horse hurt.)
Puffins/Wikimedia Commons
The worst part was, even nice restaurants served horse. Along with whale meat and cute little birds called puffins.
OK, OK, I know it’s tradition. And I know horses and birds of all kinds are on menus everywhere.
I know I’m being a hypocrite and I should be a vegetarian. As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t do well without some animal protein. It’s usually fish, chicken, eggs or cheese. I did have lamb for Christmas dinner in Reykjavik — I didn’t want to be rude to my hosts and refuse it, , but I didn’t feel good about it.
And I never eat duck. And I’ve never eaten a bird. Not that I know of, anyway.
Here’s what really makes me squirm: Horseback riding and whale-watching are big attractions in Iceland. Some horses, in fact are prized and cherished.
Woe to the others that aren’t.
And I’d read that some of the whale-watching tours sometimes encounter the whaling expeditions. Sorry, but ewwww.
I could stomach eating barnacles elsewhere in the Atlantic, but not all this.
So we had no choice but to eat everything but. Lots more cheese and bread. And fish.
Being that the place is an island in the Atlantic, with lots of rivers and lakes, there was plenty of the latter to choose from.
Here’s the sort-of local version of bagels and lox.
And my excellent catfish lunch at The Blue Lagoon. Yep, catfish. From the Deep North ‘sted of the Deep South. Thankfully, there were no horses, whales or sheep heads anywhere on the menu.
I swear the Blue Lagoon food would have been just as good without the view. Really.
I did break down and had a much-touted Icelandic hot dog on my way out at the airport. I wanted so much to like any Icelandic food. Granted, it was a regular old dog, and not one from the famous hot dog stand (unfortunately, we never made it there) in the center of Reykjavik, that looks to be the Iceland equivalent of Pink’s in Hollywood.
Sorry to say, the Iceland wiener was nothing special. Par for the course for the food in general, I’m afraid.
