Walking West Asheville: Déjà Vu All Over Again
West Asheville has some big damn hills.
I forgot about them after 15 years away, but my quads now remember.
Yesterday I walked almost four miles round-trip to see my first West Asheville residence, on Hudson Street. In 2001 I split rent with two UNC-Asheville friends, paying less than $300 each per month for a three bedroom house. During my junior year of college, my dad came up to visit from Concord, NC one December day, bringing a Christmas tree and treating us all to a holiday lunch at Asiana Grand Buffet on Smokey Park Highway (now the Yao Buffet & Grill). He also may have gotten a U-Haul truck stuck in the front yard while backing into the very steep driveway.
Hudson Street looks nothing like what I remember. Two-story McBungalows at the top of the street replaced the small cottage where a nice older man used to live, a man I once called 911 for when I saw him fall around the corner on State Street.
After Hudson Street, I rented my first solo place on Oakwood Street, a basement apartment with many camel crickets that would hop into your drinking glasses if you weren't vigilant, and the toilet was on a "throne," or small raised platform, that delighted most visitors. I made veggie stir fry and rice for nearly every dinner - cheap eats!
Then came Indiana Avenue in the summer of 2003, a two-bedroom basement duplex with a friend, where we fended off unexpected visitors who were most likely there to buy drugs from our upstairs neighbors. Both underemployed right out of college, my roommate and I lived off of Ingles' Laura Lynn brand red seedless raspberry jam and peanut butter sandwiches. That house is under contract currently for $340,000. That's a lot of PB&J.
Scott and I moved in to a small house on Hickory Terrace for $650 per month, and we really thought we were adulting. I made less than $200 per week working on the Asheville Citizen-Times' obituary desk, while Scott delivered pizzas for Papa Johns, took construction odd jobs, and worked catering gigs on the weekends. Together we cooked simple pastas, quesadillas, and stir fries served in a set of badly-chipped Pier One pasta bowls Scott bought from a Goodwill on Portland, Oregon's Grand Avenue. His Nissan Sentra perpetually smelled of pizza grease. It was great fun.
Once Scott left Asheville for graduate school at Clemson University, I moved into an upstairs apartment in an old four-square house on Herron Avenue. It had a front balcony with a swing, and a large tree provided ample shade. My downstairs neighbors played bongos loudly and frequently had equally audible sexual relations. I lived there for five months before I left Asheville for a full-time education reporting job at a newspaper in Concord, NC in February 2004. Turns out journalists live on stir fry salaries, too.
So far I've only walked to Indiana Avenue and Hudson Street, but I plan to check on each of these places soon. I'm enjoying the walks not just for health and fresh air, but because reminders and new places are around every corner. And because:
I highly recommend a walk, especially in a place steeped in memories. With every stride, you're on familiar ground with the potential to see something anew.
I forgot about them after 15 years away, but my quads now remember.
Yesterday I walked almost four miles round-trip to see my first West Asheville residence, on Hudson Street. In 2001 I split rent with two UNC-Asheville friends, paying less than $300 each per month for a three bedroom house. During my junior year of college, my dad came up to visit from Concord, NC one December day, bringing a Christmas tree and treating us all to a holiday lunch at Asiana Grand Buffet on Smokey Park Highway (now the Yao Buffet & Grill). He also may have gotten a U-Haul truck stuck in the front yard while backing into the very steep driveway.
Hudson Street looks nothing like what I remember. Two-story McBungalows at the top of the street replaced the small cottage where a nice older man used to live, a man I once called 911 for when I saw him fall around the corner on State Street.
After Hudson Street, I rented my first solo place on Oakwood Street, a basement apartment with many camel crickets that would hop into your drinking glasses if you weren't vigilant, and the toilet was on a "throne," or small raised platform, that delighted most visitors. I made veggie stir fry and rice for nearly every dinner - cheap eats!
Then came Indiana Avenue in the summer of 2003, a two-bedroom basement duplex with a friend, where we fended off unexpected visitors who were most likely there to buy drugs from our upstairs neighbors. Both underemployed right out of college, my roommate and I lived off of Ingles' Laura Lynn brand red seedless raspberry jam and peanut butter sandwiches. That house is under contract currently for $340,000. That's a lot of PB&J.
Scott and I moved in to a small house on Hickory Terrace for $650 per month, and we really thought we were adulting. I made less than $200 per week working on the Asheville Citizen-Times' obituary desk, while Scott delivered pizzas for Papa Johns, took construction odd jobs, and worked catering gigs on the weekends. Together we cooked simple pastas, quesadillas, and stir fries served in a set of badly-chipped Pier One pasta bowls Scott bought from a Goodwill on Portland, Oregon's Grand Avenue. His Nissan Sentra perpetually smelled of pizza grease. It was great fun.
Once Scott left Asheville for graduate school at Clemson University, I moved into an upstairs apartment in an old four-square house on Herron Avenue. It had a front balcony with a swing, and a large tree provided ample shade. My downstairs neighbors played bongos loudly and frequently had equally audible sexual relations. I lived there for five months before I left Asheville for a full-time education reporting job at a newspaper in Concord, NC in February 2004. Turns out journalists live on stir fry salaries, too.
So far I've only walked to Indiana Avenue and Hudson Street, but I plan to check on each of these places soon. I'm enjoying the walks not just for health and fresh air, but because reminders and new places are around every corner. And because:
Walking is leisurely.
Unlike running or cycling, you can't rush a walk. There's no competitive edge to a walk - you're just putting one foot in front of the other, breathing in and out, and enjoying where you are.Walking is contemplative.
Your mind wanders as you walk, and that's fine. You can ponder a problem, assess how you're feeling, or think through your days ahead. With each step, you're reflecting and planning your path.Walking is attentive.
You notice more on foot than by blazing through in a vehicle. Whether it's admiring a neighbor's garden or unusual collection of yard decor, or noticing an old dog warily watching you from its porch perch, there are sights to take in and appreciate. |
| Downtown Asheville from Grandview Ave |
Walking is friendly.
You get face-to-face with neighbors and locals, and for the most part, they're happy to say "Good Morning" or "Hello." I give myself a big internal pat on the back when I say "Hi" and I get a proper response. Bonus points if Loretta the dog is with me, because everyone in Asheville seems to love canines. Dogs are terrific conversational icebreakers, even if their vocabulary is limited.I highly recommend a walk, especially in a place steeped in memories. With every stride, you're on familiar ground with the potential to see something anew.
Lovely.....
ReplyDeleteIs Papa John's still hiring??
(smiley face with much love...)
Love this! Enjoyed our pedestrian adventures when we were together, and reading about your solo (or with Loretta) ones!
ReplyDeleteThank you, walking buddy! Cheers (with a glass of Winking Owl!)
Delete