From Mayberry to Monaco

A few weekends ago I had the chance to go see some of my nearest and dearest friends back home. We decided to meet up in Mount Airy, North Carolina.

For those of you well-versed in the world of Southern culture, you will immediately say to yourselves, "Ah, the hometown of the one-and-only Andy Griffith of the classic television sitcom 'The Andy Griffith Show!' The town on which Mayberry was based!'" For those of you now clueless (most likely, my neighbors up here in the land of Yankees), don't worry. It's just time to baptize yourselves in the waters of wholesome T.V. and revel in the everlasting joy of knowing how Ron Howard got his start.

(The answer: He played Opie, Andy's fishin'-pole-luggin', tow-headed son.)



It was good to be back in the homeland. It felt like an ambassadorial mission due to the fact that my Brooklyn boyfriend had come along. The first item of the day was to teach him that what he drives is not a truck; the second, a lesson (which we ate) on grits, biscuits and country ham.

The rest of the day was filled with music. We started off by paying a visit to the live airing of WPAQ 740 A.M.'s Saturday-morning radio show. In this world of Clear Channel and radio sounds sent via satellite, the "Merry-Go-Round" is a rare find. Over the half-century it's been around, a whole host of regional and national music legends (including Tommy Jarrell, the Carter Family, Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs, and Bill and Charlie Monroe) have gathered before its microphones. The morning we went, a local family was playing Southern Gospel with heart, gusto and good, solid belief in the Lord.

Just outside the show was more music. A street band of sorts was playing true mountain music -- good, old, pure bluegrass. The talent was real and raw and not necessarily something you would expect from four men who looked like life had beat them heartily on the journey. With burning cigarettes wedged into the space between the strings and the tuning pegs, their high harmonies soared with that lonesome hillbilly drawl. (Question: Does anybody know where I can get a John Deere cap in Brooklyn? Because all these guys sported them in style.)

The memories were flowing, nostalgia was high, and it was definitely time to eat again. We strolled past Floyd's Barber Shop and Opie's Candy Store and made our way to Snappy's Lunch Cafe -- home of the world's greatest fried pork-chop sandwich. It comes served on a delicate bed of waxed paper and is topped with chili and coleslaw (who knows what else is hiding under there).

We passed on a Civil War re-enactment going on just outside of town and opted instead for a corn maze (you got that right, a labryinth cut through a cornfield) followed by a contest of apple-slinging (a complex sport involving a very large slingshot built into a fence and a barrel placed with precise measurement way far away). Apple-slinging is where my darling proved himself worthy of his Southern companions. He landed the only apple in the barrel, thus winning baby Cora the chance to choose herself a pumpkin. (The one she chose was half her size.)

This weekend was full of so much revelry and fun that I could hardly stand myself. I was on cloud nine. We topped it off with a visit to my Grandma's house and one last meal of fried Southern goodness before making our way back North.

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Just a few days later it was time to fly out for a week-long work trip to a trade show in Monaco. Yes, Monaco. As in Monte-Carlo, Princess-Grace, James-Bond Monaco. I don’t need to tell you it's a spectacular setting. Cliffs rising out of the sparkling Mediterranean, unparalleled wealth, and a whole country jam-packed onto a strip of land literally just a few city blocks long. It's mind-boggling just to try to count the number of Ferraris and Porsches rolling casually down the street.

With talk like this, you probably see why I spend a great deal of time trying to make folks understand that my days of work travel are pretty mundane. That's right: It's all day, everyday, spent inside a conference center manning a booth to tout the benefit of fiber optics in video transmission solutions for broadcasters. Not exactly James Bond material.

But the good thing about being a human being is that you always must eat. So my colleagues and I did, on food and wine that was both fabulous and expensive. (The only thing Monaco offers for free is a late-night dip in the Mediterranean.)

When it comes right down to it, I’d be just as happy with a sandwich from Snappy’s.