Asheville

the Austin of North Carolina. I don't even know where to start... I suppose I could start from the beginning. (was that cliche?)

I arrived at Bon Paul and Sharky's hostel, about two miles outside of Asheville proper, around eleven or twelve. Justin, the caretaker, was checking his mail and came out to my car as I pulled up. With a firm handshake, we were introduced and I was shown about the property, from their epic backporch to my dorm. Mitch was still asleep as Justin and I walked into the room. The hostel seemed to be slowly waking up from a late night. Sitting downstairs I watched as the kitchen slowly filled as other people from the upstairs filed in to make breakfast...

Picking up a map of Asheville I walked to the bus stop and ran into Mitch who decided to come along. Sitting across from us was the most unusually clad man. Wearing pin stripe pants, a white v-neck, a bright yellow hoodie, and a blood red mohawk he jovially talked on his cell. When I asked no one in particular if I had just missed the stop for downtown, he was the only one to answer, we had. He was a good representative for the city as a whole. A wonderfully eclectic mix of artists and misfits making a living on whatever they could do. Street artists abounded in the city, one of which I captured on video. However, my cable is upstairs in the bedroom where another person is sleeping.. so I will have to upload the video on another day.

Mitch, from the Isle of Wight in England, needed to pick up some bluegrass cd's where as I got distracted by an art gallery. It turned out the gallery was a co-op (REI?) and my instructor for the John C. Campbell Folk School was a member. It was great to see her work and see that she had a piece that incorporated both metal and glass; it was a lamp with a leaf motif. The actual glass in the lamp was a brilliant blue with speckles of white.

I can't wait to spend time in the forge. But for now, I'm spending time with the other hostellers and good music, bluegrass music that is.