A modern fairytale. Once upon a time, a restless vagabond visited New York on a quest. The ancients of her village had instructed her to find a hidden treasure, one that would refresh her soul, touch her spirit, and wash away the tired callouses of life, advising, "New York is a kingdom of many hidden treasures that will speak to your soul, yet the key is to find the one meant just for you."
The vagabond marveled at the Shakespearean sonnet gardens in Central Park, for her love of the Bard was great and her fascination with iambic pentameter endless. "Perhaps this is my treasure," she thought. "Regardless, it is a treasure no doubt, but I will continue my journey." The little vagabond trudged on through the shifting shades of the swaying trees, marveling at jazz musicians and wandering opera singers, until she stood quietly contemplating an angel beckoning to her from a captive sea. "I shall add this to my treasure of memories," she thought, "though my hidden treasure is yet to be found."
At the sight of a crying maiden she was much disturbed, and pitied the maiden's unfortunate dye job while secretly envying her perfect eyelashes. "The esteemed Sir Lichenstein is a great treasure indeed," she noted, though perhaps not the one she sought.
Next, the vagaond turned to find herself viewing the most beautiful painting she had seen in her life. "Never," thought she, "have I seen all of the magic, heartbreak, joy, and beauty of the entire world held captive on a single piece of canvas."
"I shall add this to my memories of my greatest moments in life," she thought, "and yet, inexplicably, I feel that my quest is not yet complete."
A great arch by surprise did take the damsel, and her eyes strained to decipher the mysterious carvings and gallant words. Though it was indeed of stunning stature and style, the scent of viands of Italian influence irresistibly drew her away to the village of green witches. There, she found neither witches nor sorcerers, instead savoring hidden bookstores, crisply scented ice cream parlors, delightfully grungy cafes, and succulent oases of spice, sandwiches, and cider.
The next morning, after sleeping above the fragrant open-air shops selling Lady Chelsea's flower, the vagabond set out once more. "Soon I must return to my hamlet, so I must find the hidden treasure soon." She trekked along the broadest way she had ever trod, marveling at the throngs of sojourners and colossal, seemingly mile-high paintings of minstrels, merchants, and musicians. The little vagabond spotted one in particular, which stood confidently apart from the rest, like a phantom surveying the unknowing world of the daytime.
The little vagabond smiled. For her quest was complete.
Visting Busch Gardens Williamsburg's Christmas Town for the first time marked a great way to celebrate the holiday season. The European-themed amusement park transforms into a yuletide world of sparkling lights, festive music, live performances, and dramatic decorations - all of which resulted in the following travelogue of photos and memories. Christmas Town's shows including Gloria, with powerful vocal performances, and Miracles, a dance-themed musical.
High-powered voices soar in Gloria!
Ballet and modern dance in Miracles
But the real stars of the park were the decorations, with each country sporting a distinctly different style.
Ireland
Killarney boasted golden tinsel swags and green tinsel shamrocks, all interlaced with colored lights. Green and gold are not only Christmas colors but also colors in the Irish flag - clever. I made two stops at Annie's Pub for Christmas Town hot chocolate with whipped cream, delicious and warming.
Reminds me of Galway Bay Irish Pub in Annapolis, with all the wood paneling and warm ambiance.
The leprechauns have been at work....
France
France's white, cerulean, and blush pink decor evoked the glitzy lives of bygone bourgeoisie and whimsical reflections of Parisian style. I even got a photo with some bizarre looking jesters. And they say American clowns are scary.
This gorgeous, gigantic Christmas tree sends forth thunderous carols from within... and in English, oddly. Fortunately, the rest of the music throughout France is in French, even a lovely rendition Jingle Bells - I mean Vive le Vent. The tree must be a welcoming committee for foreign tourists.
King, Queen, and Court Jesters do their best to frighten tourists in France.
Wine Tasting
The wine tasting at La Belle Maison left me feeling pretty educated. Turns out all of those fancy wine rituals aren't just for snobs, they actually have a purpose! Mind blown. For instance:
Tip a glass of red wine away from you a little and wiggling your fingers behind it. Whether or not you can see them shows how deep the color is. Color, like taste, makes each wine unique.
When you swirl the wine around in your mouth, breathing in through your nose helps you taste even more flavors.
Check out Snooth and Vivino for advice on wine pairings, ratings, etc.
I especially had some things to learn about the temperatures that make wines happiest when served. "Americans," said the sommelier Nora, "serve white wine too cold and red wine too warm. You're supposed to serve red wine at room temperature, but room temperature means a cellar... in a medieval castle... in the dead of winter." So, all I need is a medieval castle and I'm all set. I am now a fan of rosé, something I have never liked in the past. True French rosé "is neither cheap nor sweet," and is instead considered a delicacy in France. The wine tasting featured Rosé d'Anjou, which had a very elegant taste which, the sommelier explained, paired well with smoked turkey.
Beautiful statue in front of La Belle Maison. This statue disappeared some time ago from France's town square, so I was happy to see it had shown up again!
Rose d'Angou in my souvenir Christmas Town wine glass
Sadly, I had never done a wine tasting before, and I thought I would be rude unless I drank everything that was given to me. Ooopsie. Is it just me or is it hot in here?
Of course, no wine tasting is complete without a visit next door to... penguins? These penguins are real celebrities, residing in their own Ice Palace near La Belle Maison. I just wish I could have been on the flight to Williamsburg with them - pretty darn cute if you watch the video:
Germany
Dinner at Das Festhaus included a gluten-free pizza (baked in an oven-safe wrapper that prevented cross-contamination with gluten, unfortunately a must for anyone with life-threatening celiac disease like me - Busch Gardens is awesome). The always-festive Das Festhaus was even more bedecked than usual, with stunning chandeliers that reminded me of the Austrian chandelier in the Opera House in the Kennedy Center.
Later, we browsed shops boasting German-made wares ranging from beer steins and nutcrackers to carved hunting horns and cuckoo clocks. Since they were made in Germany rather than China, I could not afford them, but could afford to gawk!
French Canada
Passing through France again we meandered in French Canada, where the Yankee Candle Carver was hard at work as usual and Caribou Pottery was decked out for a woodsy Christmas. Most of the fauna were indoors, with the exception of a beautiful Cooper's Hawk whose keeper was rushing him inside before the afternoon chill set in.
Hand-dyed and handmade mushroom candles
A gentle, mellow Cooper's Hawk - gorgeous
I was dying to paint something at Caribou Pottery, but it takes a couple hours and the day was going by fast. We decided that next time we will have to take two days for Christmas Town.
Italy
Voyaging from French Canada into Italy unveils a vintage Christmas theme, replete with oversized mutli colored lights, giant clowing Santa heads (eeek!) and retro holiday-themed bill boards. Dean Martin replaces ancient Roma, and apparently his tradmark drinks abounded as well, as evident in the behavior of a gentleman who rushed up to me and enthused about how AWESOME!!! my outfit was. Attired in a curly brown scarf, my favorite winter hat (a huge furry ushanka), and a camel-colored winter coat, I thought I looked more like a terrifying squirrel, but to each his own. Italy was one of my favorite sections in Christmas Town, being a vintage girl myself. My mother felt herself yanked back into her childhood memories of 1950s and 60s Christmases, but the panic in her eyes soon changed to enjoyment... I hope.
By now solidly nighttime, we boarded the train skirting around the perimeter of the park. I got yelled at by the conductor for leaning out of the train to get this shot. Whenever I see potential for a good photo all common sense goes out the window. Whoops.
By foot, the lights were spectacular as well, since you became immersed in the visual festivities on all sides. Such as:
...the smashed-up car at Verbolten, which joined in the holiday festivities...
...the clock tower in Banbury Cross...
...and Escape from Pompeii, now the Polar Pathway...
...and the O Tanenbaum light show in Oktoberfest...
My first visit to the ICE! exhibit at the Gaylord National sure didn't disappoint. Like the Gaylord in Kissimmee in Florida, the Washington D.C. version at the National Harbor sports a gigantic glass-enclosed atrium, just minus the alligators grinning at meals tourists from the transplanted bayou. Instead, this Gaylord went for more of a classic stroll-in-the-park theme with cafes, restaurants, and shops peeking from amidst the dense trees and glowing street lights. However, the real star of the Gaylord was the view from the mammoth windows overlooking the magnificent Potomac River.
Suspended Christmas Tree in the 18-story glass atrium of the Gaylord National. The massive windows overlook the glittering lights of the National Harbor.
A veritable city of rooms surround the bedecked atrium.
Hidden in gigantic tents outside the hotel, ICE! is a clever mixture of traditional, clear-as-crystal ice sculptures and vividly colored sculptures of bright cerulean, lemon yellow (at least I hope it's lemon), and geranium red evoking scenes from "The Night Before Christmas," followed by a finale of "Christmas in New York."
Entrance to ICE! The letters appeared to be fiberglass, but everything else was pure ice, from the bright yellow background to the brick walls and whimsical swirls.
An icy arch seems to be made from enormous candy and sugar-spun bricks
Delicate crystalline dove adds a sweet contrast to the vivid and mod surroundings.
The temperature remained at about nine degrees, so my friend and I had bundled up in enough layers to give Randy from A Christmas Story a run for his money.
On top of this, the staff at the Gaylord gave us each an oversized, hooded, calf-length parka of which any Arctic explorer would approve. The parka also acted as a sort of built-in sled when we reached the ice slides near the end of the tour. "Lift your feet up!" called the attendant at the bottom of the slide as I began sliding down in a seated position. A suggestion which, if followed, will tilt the unsuspecting victim on their back so that the slippery parka turns into an Olympic-speed toboggan. Most ungraceful, but I felt like a little kid all over again. Sadly, I was too busy laughing hysterically to get a picture of my friend sliding down after me.
Solid ice comprises the Christmas tree, the presents, and the huge slides on either side of the room. Only the tinsel-y tree trimmings were non-ice.
Yeah, yeah, I know my photo's crooked and shaky. But I kept having to take my hand out of my glove to snap photos and by this time I couldn't even feel my fingers. Santa and sugarplums then gave way to a trip into New York City on a wintry night, where even the Statue of Liberty has joined the festivities by donning a red suit and hat. Again, great subject, rotten photo. My poor frozen fingers. I finally broke down and whipped out the HotHands hand warmers.
Santa of Liberty
Check this out: "Phantom of the N. Pole" and a poster that looks like a Galapagos penguin photobombing Les Miz. Technically not made from ice, but I don't think I could have resisted doing this, either.
Broadway Signs
At the end of the walk-through, we came upon a larger-than-life nativity with incredible detail and delicacy. My flash revealed the intense chilliness in the air, which they pumped in from overhead to maintain the 9 degree temperature, the sadists.
Nativity of ice. The matte ice creating the ground contrasted with the shiny figures. Methinks this art form takes a tiny bit of skill...
Awwww....
As we shuffled out the mega-tent's door and into the night air to head back into the Gaylord, we both stopped and exclaimed, "Wow, it's hot out here!" It was 40 degrees. I will never again complain about cold winters. We survived nine degrees all for the sake of festivity and art! I think some hot chocolate is in order. Spiked.
Or maybe I'll just steal some treats from Santa's plate.
The Brandywine Valley remains one of my favorite stomping grounds due to its horticultural and architectural offerings as well as the sheer deliciousness of its name.
Hagley Mills
Though long in love with the luscious Brandywine estates and gardens of Winterthur and Longwood (where I would like to believe I lived during a previous life as a petunia), my visit to the former gunpowder works at Hagley Mill offered a foray into a new sphere of surprises. I had naïvely imagined a single mill house - boy were my expectations topped. Gardener turned gunpowder guru Eleuthère Irénée du Pont founded Hagley after narrowly escaping the Hungry Lady, and I don't mean his wife. Though Monsieur du Pont arrived in the U.S. of A. with the fluttering hopes of tending gentle orchids and peaceful topiaries, he soon observed the unreliability of American gunpowder, something he knew he could improve through European techniques. That, at least, is the conventional story. I believe the poor man got so fed up with stupid Américains tumbling over his name that he just started blowing stuff up. Located along the arboraceous Brandywine River, Hagley provided the perfect location for manufacturing gunpowder for the military during the War of 1812 and to the Union during the Civil War. If Monsieur du Pont's last name sounds familiar, it's for good reason, since his company's innovations in gunpowder were the first in a long line of innovations in many areas.
The First Office
Many of the buildings on the property are built from Brandywine's blue gneiss - a strong rock that could withstand massive explosions.
Workers' homes of Blue Gneiss Stone
Eleutherian Mills, the du Pont family home, whose backyard looks directly over the gunpowder works.
The mill is closed in 1921 following the last of a long line of explosions. Now quiet and serene, the site offers a peaceful, otherworldly retreat of Herculean trees, thriving animal denizens such as Canada geese, deer, and beavers, and the bygone beauty of old mills.
Beautiful Gnarls: 350-year-old Osage Orange Tree near Eleutherian Mills
Interspersed with the backdrop of nature's quiet beauty, a plethora of antique equipment, massive gears, and rusty machinery rumbled melodically or lay quietly embedded in the ground. There is something stunning about industrial mixing with nature, as nature is begins reclaim her domain. The innate aesthetic in the circles, repetition, and symmetry of cogs, rivets, and gears provide a a striking contrast with the wildness and vivid colors of nature.
Pink Martini at Wolf Trap Oh, where to start... Pink Martini is one of my favorite bands ever. Wolf Trap is my favorite outdoor venue. So, Pink Martini + Wolf Trap = Yay! Ridiculously talented, the group blends sultry world sounds with the nostalgic styles of the 1940s and 50s. Their lead singer, China Forbes, recently returned from successful vocal chord surgery, so it was a huge treat seeing her perform on July 1st. I would have died for either of the dresses she wore for the concert. The first was a sweeping cherry-colored high-low gown which she wore with a sparkling bib-style necklace. The second, following intermission, was a black one-shoulder gown with embellishment at the shoulder and a side leg slit. I totally agree with my friend Maya, who turned to me and sobbed "I. Want. That. Dress!"
BSO at Oregon Ridge, Star Spangled Spectacular This was both my first time visiting Oregon Ridge Park and my first time hearing the fabulous Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. Our group wisely commandeered a picnic bench in the shade near the top of the hill, and covered it in a spread including chips, salsa-cream cheese chutney, avocado-yogurt dip, Chardonnay, pink lemonade, and gluten-free Trader Joe's cookies. A refreshing setup while we waited for the sun to set. By the time the fireflies came out, we were enjoying a cool, relaxing evening. Emerging opera soprano Katie von Kooten presented patriotic songs from various eras, including selections from vaudeville & Broadway composer George M. Cohan (love him - he wrote "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandee" and "You're a Grand Ol' Flag"). She also performed modern Broadway favorites like "I Dreamed a Dream" from Le Miz and "Think of Me" from Phantom of the Opera. Being a bit misty-eyed over the Le Miz rendition, I didn't have the presence of mind to film it, but did catch most of the Phantom pick. Lovely, rich voice:
The program ended with a nostalgic fireworks display. We endured a long wait leaving the parking lot - tons of cars (shudder)! But well worth it, honestly. Scythian at the Annapolis Irish Festival My favorite local (more or less) band, Scythian is a DC-based group with a celtic-gypsy-world-americana sound. It all makes sense when you hear their distinct, infectious sound. The Annapolis Irish Festival, now in its third year, was crowded to the point that people had arrived early and set up tents in front of the main stage. Great to see it's taking off, but a challenge to find a place to stand without getting in people's way. We ended up standing a bit off to the side and shading ourselves from the sun with my rainbow-colored umbrella, which at least has some green in it. I may want to invest in an old-fashioned parasol next time. Every girl needs one, just sayin'.
It was hot, about 85 degrees, and the humidity made it feel about ten degrees hotter. But I wouldn't have missed Scythian for the world, even for a cold, refreshing mimosa. Especially since I'd already had one this morning. Anyway.... Scythian drew from a variety of their repertoire, including some of my favorites like "Hey Mama Ya," a 'Nawlins style number; "Dance All Night," and - my favorite - "Jack Dempsey." They're always fun and always great at interacting with the crowd.
Sure, Maryland's summers are blistering and humid, but it's worth braving the energy-zapping heat for the outdoor concerts in the area. And now, I'm going to go drink three gallons of iced tea. And maybe pour some of it on my head.
When I think DC, I think mammoth tusks and the Hope Diamond, the Austrian crystal chandelier at the Kennedy Center's Opera House, the marble pillars of the Lincoln Memorial, and my out-of-town great aunt standing under the two-inch overhang of a hot dog stand during one of those sudden Chesapeake downpours.
But this February, a lovely friend (and DC native) gave my mom and me such a unique experience in the city and its surrounding areas that I realized that I had never really been to DC. Our trek felt like a Travel Channel episode with distinct and personal experiences around each corner, including beautiful Oxon Hill Farm, the Frederick Douglass House, the eclectic & historic Eastern Market, and the delicious Founding Farmers.
Enjoy the photologue!
Frederick Douglass's house on a hill overlooking DC. A much-coveted location, the famous abolitionist lecturer bought this house while U.S. Grand Marshall and Ambassador to Haiti.
Death mask
Elegant living room. The man had impeccable taste.
Bust of Frederick Douglass
The majority of furnishings in the house are original. My friend, who is a professional researcher on African American history, remembers seeing a photo of Frederick Douglass with this same checker board.
