Technically, Frederick is just below the Mason-Dixon line, but any self-respecting southerner would laugh in my face if I were to claim that meant we were southern. I’m not sure where the real line is… maybe somewhere mid-Virginia, right about the time you start to see more churches than Starbucks.
So you might not be surprised to hear that I had next to no idea what to expect…
I expected a nice southern college town with some seriously rad barbeque — what I didn’t expect was a place that felt more like the west coast than the east. Bike trails, awesome food, great breweries. Add a few thousand more hippies and Raleigh could be Eugene.
–> If I were blessed with just a slightly higher metabolism, I think I might eat the mac & cheese at Poole’s 3 meals a day.
We were back home later than we would have liked, but sometimes it’s worth an extra day to move a little more slowly… especially if it puts you in the middle of the woods with no cell reception and a gorgeous sunset.
Then you start to wish you had all the time in the world.