Travel Blog: Flyover America
Tripping Out
by Jenna Schnuer | 06.30.09 | 12:59 PM ET
So, as you’ve heard, Flyover America and the rest of our blog brethren are outta here (well, at least on the blogs—we’ll all swirl around the place on various other topics). We’ve taken a shine to all y’all so we’re taking this act out on its own on the information superhighway. (Leave it to me to revive a tired old phrase for the sake of a bad joke, eh?) Look for the launch of Flyover America as an indie act in the very near future. And, yes, the good folks of World Hum said they’ll pass the word along when that happens. If you want to keep up on FA activity, just drop us a line at and we’ll let you know when we’re up and running. Oh—we’re also turning from a duo into a trio. Our good buddy Matt Villano is coming along for the ride. We hope to see you there (and, of course, here).
Happy trails,
Jenna
p.s. You’re all the bees knees. This has been some kind of good fun. Big time.
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Yahoo! BuzzThe Road Goes on Forever (And the Party Never Ends)
by Sophia Dembling | 06.30.09 | 12:45 PM ET
Photo by Sophia Dembling The best thing about this too-short gig with World Hum is that it revived and refreshed my passionate love affair with our glorious fifty. Traveling the U.S. is what gave me the travel bug in the first place and now I’m buggier than ever. Give up this blog? Never! I have so much more to see and do and discuss with you.
Finding Frederic Remington (in Upstate New York)
by Jenna Schnuer | 06.30.09 | 9:20 AM ET
Author and her grandfather, Sidney Friedfertig (35-plus years ago) The statues always felt out of place. I never really understood why my grandfather, Sidney Friedfertig, loved Frederic Remington’s work so much. While my grandfather was fond of all things Western, Remington’s pieces just struck me as harsh and ugly. I didn’t like them. What were they doing in my grandparents’ Westchester, NY, apartment, alongside my artist grandmother’s brightly colored oil paintings?
Though my grandfather passed away nearly 15 years ago, until recently I still hadn’t taken a shine to Remington. It was odd because, really, I thought he would have grown on me for sentimental reasons.
Meet Two Roadside A-Kitschianados
by Sophia Dembling | 06.25.09 | 10:33 AM ET
Photo courtesy of Vintage Roadside OK, all my kitsch-lovin’ friends, here’s a site for you.
Vintage Roadside sells T-shirts and advertising images of just the kind of kooky roadside kitsch we love so much. Not only is the stuff super fun, but a portion of all Vintage Roadside sales are donated to the National Trust for Historic Preservation.
Nashville: You’ve Still Got It
by Jenna Schnuer | 06.23.09 | 4:30 PM ET
Nashville,
Just after I plucked my bag from the baggage carousel and walked out the airport doors to meet my ride, you wrapped me up in your humidity. Though that kind of welcome would, normally, put me off, I found it comforting. You were just making it clear that I was back in Nashville, that my two year for-no-good-reason exile from your borders had come to a close.
Before my visit, I told you I was nervous. One of my favorite cities, you had gone magical in my mind. When I thought about you, it was always fun fun fun, big food, history, music, blah blah blah. You were far removed from daily life. But from the minute that humidity grabbed me, I knew all would be OK. While my past visits have been anchored with purpose (reporting stories, the Tin Pan South festival, and so on), this trip was about, simply, hanging out and letting the week unfold as it might. I wanted to see what it was like just to be in Nashville, no run-around keep-yourself-busy necessary. My only requirements: eat at least one ice pop at Las Paletas and get a better understanding of the way your neighborhoods relate to each other.
You delivered.
America: One Quote, One Photo
by Sophia Dembling | 06.18.09 | 9:54 AM ET
Photo by Sophia Dembling “Truly the American countryside is the most beautiful I have ever seen, the only one in which one forgets the existence of man.” -Luigi Barzini, 1953
I was going through my bookshelves, trying to thin the herd, and came across a book I didn’t remember owning but that stopped all work for a while. It’s called “America the Quotable” and it’s a collection of quotes about our beloved 50, individually and collectively.
I came across the above Barzini quote—which brought to mind this photo—and thought I’d share. I’m sure many of you also have images that come to mind. Put ‘em on Flickr, post a link in the comments, let’s have a look!
For Sale: Fabulous Hotel, Needs Work
by Sophia Dembling | 06.12.09 | 11:26 AM ET
Photo by Sophia Dembling While we’re on the subject of kitsch, here’s a story about lottery winnings well-spent: After winning $49 million in the Texas state lottery, Byron and Barbara Woods bought the decrepit Tee Pee Motel in Wharton, Texas, about 50 miles from Houston, and made it crepit with a $1.6 million buff-‘n’-puff.
Kitsch City, U.S.A.
by Sophia Dembling | 06.05.09 | 10:32 AM ET
Photo by Tom Battles I certainly understand why some readers took exception to my assertion in a recent post that Las Vegas is among the must-see sights for Americans. Vegas is, indeed, a very silly place. But that silliness is what makes me love it—I have a very deep affection for all things kitschy, and Vegas is an entire kitsch city.
Nashville: An Affair Worth Remembering?
by Jenna Schnuer | 06.04.09 | 12:30 PM ET
Dear Nashville,
It’s been too long. For a while there, we had a thing going. I showed up every six months or so. You entertained me. It was an ongoing affair to remember. But then life got in the way. All my fault. I know. I apologize. But, really, my love for you has grown. I think about you constantly and, don’t tell my hometown (or anywhere else for that matter), but I’m secretly rooting for you in Travel + Leisure’s Favorite Cities survey.
See America, Too!
by Sophia Dembling | 05.27.09 | 12:08 PM ET
It happened again last night. I was at a café with friends when one, who has traveled extensively in Europe, asked me for advice about an inexpensive summer vacation for herself and her two college-age-ish sons.
I suggested Cody, Wyoming, right outside the east gate of Yellowstone National Park. (“I hate hiking,” one son grumbled.) I suggested Boulder, Colorado. I suggested Seattle. I suggested they drive cross country and get a sense of the whole shebang.
“Are there cheap fares to Europe these days?” my friend asked.
Wrong question, especially after I have a few glasses of sangria in me.
Goodbye to my Mickey Mouse, Wayne Allwine
by Jenna Schnuer | 05.22.09 | 11:31 AM ET
For so many, the first true travel excitement comes compliments of Mickey Mouse and co.
A few years ago, I talked to my nieces on the phone just before their first trip to Disney World. The little one, just shy of four, didn’t usually have much patience for phone conversations. That day, she just kept talking and talking, offering excited (and rather detailed) explanations of all the things she wanted to see. Both girls were delighted when I told them about my own visits to Disney World as a kid. We all got kind of giddy thinking that, just maybe, there was some slight chance they would end up riding in the same It’s a Small World boat I sat in 30+ years ago.
Love Letter to the Interstate System
by Sophia Dembling | 05.20.09 | 3:25 PM ET
A certain type of traveler, the “I-only-watch-PBS” type of traveler, scorns the Interstate. These travelers are all about the blue highways, those small rural roads that require time and patience and don’t send you hurtling through America’s heartland. (Today’s rumination is brought to you courtesy of this New Yorker cartoon, which got me thinking when it turned up in my email inbox.)
But I love America’s great Interstate system, officially (and a little frighteningly) called The Dwight D. Eisenhower National System of Interstate and Defense Highways.
For the Love of Minor League Baseball
by Jenna Schnuer | 05.18.09 | 3:15 PM ET
The Albuquerque Isotopes. The Clearwater Threshers. The Dayton Dragons.
Ah, minor league baseball. The team names alone are joy. The experience? That much better. While I’ve always found it a bit ho-hum to attend a major league game for a team that wasn’t my hometown favorite, minor league games feel more neutral.
They’re about hanging out eating stuff you shouldn’t eat on a (hopefully) beautiful spring or summer night and (hopefully) getting to see a little magic when some not-so-known player smacks one out or looks like he has the potential to pitch a perfect game. They’re about relaxing. And just kind of being in a place with, mostly, the people who live there.
Minor league games feel out of time. They feel hopeful.
Lessons From The Dancing Chickens
by Sophia Dembling | 05.14.09 | 1:44 PM ET
Photo by Sophia Dembling When I heard about the Lesser Prairie Chicken Festival in Woodward, Okla., my mind went directly to funnel cakes, face painting, and maybe a parade with a Lesser Prairie Chicken Queen. Sign me up, I said! I love small-town fests.
I’m kind of a moron sometimes. It wasn’t until I had my trip planned that I fully understood that a bird festival is where bird watchers gather to watch birds—in this case, lesser prairie chickens. Not only was funnel cake not part of the event, but the centerpiece of the weekend involved waking before dawn to spend three hours in a field watching chickens dance.
When Choosing the Best Food in America, What Matters?
by Jenna Schnuer | 05.08.09 | 12:01 PM ET
Lately, the word best has been tumbling around my mind a lot. Blame it on the Beard Awards. Who was it going to be? Who would capture the crowns for best chefs in America?
Now, before you slam me for being anti-best, I’m not. I make part of my living off the damned, er, lovely word. As a travel and food writer, I package a bit of this from one place with a bit of that from another. Drape a coat of “best” on it—after extensive tasting and inner turmoil over who I’m leaving out—and, blammo, a list is born.
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