Blues, haints and bayous: snippets from the Deep South: To have, or not to have

We waved farewell to our friends and turned inland as we are airport bound now, and have only a few days to get back to Atlanta to drop the car then head off for a spell in New York. So far the weather gods have been smiling. Though we read that there is to be snow in New York on Sunday, but by Tuesday when we arrive it should be back to mild Spring weather. Maybe. We are driving, today, between an aisle of white Dogwoods. The tips of some of them are turning the softest green. We will remember these Dogwoods in North Carolina. They have been breathtaking.

Our first stop today was Raleigh, a well laid out city set on a grid with lots of modern, blocky skyscraper buildings down a very long blocky main city artery including the Capitol, the State Legislative building, many museums, churches and temples. It looks and feels prosperous, though at its heart it is more about business than shopping, so it is probably not all that appealing to walk around unless you are a newcomer like us, sussing out the buildings.

Our coffee, predictably, was cold. Newly opened, the cafe served its coffee in paper cups which we hate, though there was a small selection of china mugs hanging on hooks that appeared to be solely for decoration. Their house specialty was a brewed coffee-- kept warm in a thermos—mixed with “grain-fed butter” (though we ‘got’ what they meant) and “topped with coconut oil”. Our immediate response was revulsion. In fact, Pete turned to leave, gagging on it. But, we were brave and ended up trying it, but it was sensationally awful and rates up there with the most horrid coffee we’ve had in our life. It left us feeling greasy and queasy for hours. Why anyone would want to mix butter and coconut oil into their coffee simply defies comprehension. A little espresso, with no calories, was simply not on offer, tho’ the girls were delightful trying to tempt us — so we attempted to hunt down another place which was not easy, and in such a huge city that, too, continues to surprise us. Aussies, now, are so addicted to their morning brew that there are more coffee shops around, there, than restaurants, so we keep expecting them to be on tap like that, and they are not, here.

Fayetteville was our next stop and we loved its gorgeous antebellum Market house in the very heart of town, which looks so terribly English and worked much like an English Market house, too, as early Council meetings were held on the floor over the market square, while the animals were sold off beneath. All very familiar and appealing to us. There are other English overtones to the historic downtown structures, too. Some even have arched carriage lanes from the street to what would likely have been liveries in the rear. That little touch of England is just lovely here.

Fayetteville, we discovered, is famous for its role in the Federal Constitution signing, and it is pretty exceptional to be walking around this Market house that was built from bricks recycled from an old State House, the building where the US Federal Constitution was ratified in 1789 at the North Carolina Convention. So, that, too, makes it pretty special.

Pinehurst, the village we came to next, is a haven for golfers, their caddies and their post-game post-mortem mates. It is one of those exceptionally beautiful spots you occasionally find in some countries that draws endless crowds, and is exquisitely dressed up for that purpose. It would be very appealing for a weekend away, though I am not sure what non-golfers would do if they stayed longer than that, but golfers would love it.

Golfers could actually stay a whole nine days if they felt so inclined, as this tiny little community has nine exceptional golf courses. One of them on the PGA route. So many, they are even built on either side of the road as you drive through the place.

There is a resort feel to it all, and a tiny quaint friendly little village dressed up in gorgeous unifying thick white paint, with a welcoming coffee shop, a free bookstore run by volunteers, a custom jeweller, some trendy dress shops, charming gift shops, a couple of real estate agents and a bank or two. It is all very expensive and all beautifully cared for in ways unusual on this trip, as even the verges looked immaculate, as if they might have been manicured with nail scissors they were so particular and pristine.

There seemed to us to be an extraordinary number of older white folk about, which made us check the population statistics of Pinehurst, and sure enough, when we did, the majority of residents were over 45, white and wealthy. In fact, over 96% of the Pinehurst population is white. Likely the only ones who could afford this level of luxury. Let alone, the freedom to play so much golf.

This tale of disparity goes on and on this trip. We have learned so much but we are still surprised, daily, at the vast gulf between rich and poor, white and black, the haves and the have nots. Throughout history, when that gulf becomes too disparate times turn tough.

Typically then, stage right, enters the anti-hero. So now, voila! we have Donald Trump, like a marauding pirate with his wierd yellow-orange hair and his blustering arrogance, stirring the cauldron, fanning the flames even higher, accentuating the gulf.

These are crazy, but predictable, times.