There is no place like home for the holidays. For me, that is North Carolina. It’s always a homecoming for me to visit the home state I grew up in. Typically, my family stays in a cabin overlooking the mountains. This Thanksgiving in Boone, North Carolina, is a little different. My family is staying in a castle- A castle. I can’t wait.
I have been excited about this since the summer. Our flight arrives in Charlotte shortly, and we start the two-hour drive toward Boone, North Carolina. I see the mountains. I am home. Living in Chicago, I don’t see the mountains often. I can already start to feel the mountain air in my lungs. I knew I was home again.
All was going well except for one problem. Upon arrival, we approached the steepest driveway I had ever seen. “How are we going to drive up this?” I ask. My uncle’s misguided confidence never wavers, and he starts the journey up the mountain. The driveway has treacherous turns, leaving the car’s wheels grinding on each curve. I close my eyes. My uncle finds mine and my aunt’s discomfort amusing. He navigates each turn slowly. Soon, we arrive at the castle.
Locked out
We make it to the top. I am suddenly unsure if this is a castle or a fortress. The whole house is made out of stone. I sign in relief and release my boyfriend’s hand. I had a death grip while riding in the back of the car. That driveway is not for the faint of heart. Wow. I quietly utter to myself. I am now standing in front of a castle with a perfect view of the mountains around it. The two balconies over looking the mountains feeling like a watch tower. We certainly feel protected in case of an attack. Good luck to anyway who would try to attack this fortress after going up that driveway. Two Griffins stand guard and add extra safety at the front of the large wooden door- very mid evil.
It’s cold, and I have to go to the bathroom. I start unloading our bags when my uncle cries, “I can’t get in.” It is 2:20 pm. Technically, we will have the castle at 4 pm. “Does that mean we have to go back down?” I think in fear. I want to keep how often I go up and down that driveway to a minimum. One phone call later, we got the door open. The instructions on how to enter were incorrect. Phew.
The first step was to go to the bathroom, but the next was a tour. The house feels larger once you are inside. On the outside, the castle competes with the mountains in grandeur, but the inside the rooms feel never ending. So often, lavish homes are head-to-toe white, gray, or beige, leaving little room for character or personality. This home was the opposite. It oozed with character in every detail.
Hide-and-Seek
One of my favorites is the billiard rooms with a floor-to-ceiling dark built-in bookshelf in front of a pool table. It reminded me of the game Clue. “Wouldn’t this be a great house to play hide-and-seek in”?, I ask, never imagining that my 60-year-old aunt would enthusiastically approach the idea.
After dinner, we are playing hide-and-seek. We turn off the lights of the 10,000 -square-foot house. Since everyone else is arriving tomorrow the house already feels spooky, with the lights off downright terrifying. I first hide in the billiards room under one of the benches. Quickly, my aunt finds me. It’s my brother that is the tricky one to see.
Our game of hide-and-seek is exhilarating and brings back memories of when I played hide-and-seek in my family home with my siblings. I will never forget when my brother jumped off the roof of our one-story ranch to scare me during a game. He always was the best at hiding. I remember getting so scared I fell over. Even though I am much older, I still love playing games with my family. Considering my aunt, who is twice my age, does too, that may never change. When we are all together, I am a kid again.
Mast General Store
We sleep in. After a late night of hide-and-seek, I needed the extra hours. I feel rested when I wake. Heading out, the drive down is not as bad as I remember the drive up to be. Gravity helps out a little. Just down the road is the Mast General Store. While it faced damages during Hurricane Helene- the store still stands.
The Mast General store is one of the oldest stores in North Carolina, over 115 years old. The Mast General stands as a beacon of history for the community. Aside from the clothes and hiking gear, the candy is my favorite part of the Mast General Store. I buy a bag of popcorn for $1 and a bottle of Cheerwine. There are two Mast General stores. Mast General and Mast General Annex. The annex has the candy. That’s a key detail you must remember.
Grandfather Mountain
Later in the afternoon we venture out a little further to go hiking. It’s been years since I went to the top of Grandfather Mountain. It’s been nearly ten years since I walked across the swinging bridge. Today, I will again. It is unusually windy today. When I tried to open the car door, the door closed on me while trying to get out of the car. Refusing to budget against the wind. I try again. I look over at my boyfriend, and his face is flushed red from the wind and cold. We decide to walk across the swinging bridge anyway.
It’s windy, and the bridge is swaying side by side. I lose my balance. My phone nearly falls out of my grip and tumbles down. Forever lost in the mountains, but I catch it just in time. The wind is strongest while on the bridge. We are completely exposed. The wind sings. I tried to capture the noise on my phone, but when I listened to it later, the wind just sounded like static on a TV. Gazing at the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina feels like standing on the edge of a painted horizon, where layers of misty blues and rolling peaks cradle you in serene wonder. Worth standing in the cold.
Once we cross the bridge again, we head to our car and down the mountain. It’s too cold and windy to go hiking today. The rest of the guests will arrive by nightfall, and the celebration can begin.
Thanksgiving
I woke on Thanksgiving in my red and black plaid pajamas. I heard the sound of a Kitchen Aid mixer and the Macy’s Day Parade cheers. All was going well, except for one key detail: the oven was broken. On Thanksgiving, with a house full of people to feed and dishes to be made the oven isn’t working. Tensions are high. I cut my Brussels sprouts as usual but I have no idea how we are going to cook them. The oven takes twice as long to cook food as usual. Part of the brownies we made were burnt- the other half liquid.
It’s not looking good.
I attempted to put my Brussels sprouts in the oven on and off for the next few hours before I pulled the plug. We wouldn’t have Brussels sprouts this year. The turkey was a bit extra crispy, but the rest of the food turned out okay despite the oven debacle.
Nothing feels better than having a full house during the holidays- chaotic and loud. That’s exactly what I look forward to. The rest our Thanksgiving day in Boone, North Carolina is relaxing. Someone broke out a puzzle of Cinque Terre, another pulled out the Uno cards, and we feasted until nightfall.
Sugar Mountain
Skiing is a great way to work on a big Thanksgiving meal. The Friday after Thanksgiving in Boone, North Carolina that’s is our plan. It’s in perfect condition for a ski day at Sugar Mountain. Well, that is what I thought when I woke up bright and early on a Friday Morning. In North Carolina, temperatures must drop for fake snow on the mountains. Otherwise, you ski down a dirt path. We haven’t entered peak snow season. I pull on three pairs of leggings, socks, and every long-sleeved shirt I find in my suitcase. I still won’t be warm enough. We arrive at Sugar Mountain Ski Resort early. The slopes are a first come, first serve, and we want to secure our spot.
The wait is short. A young man with a red-haired beard hands me my boots. These ski boots are the most uncomfortable things I have ever put on my feet- and I wore 6-inch stiletto heels from Target to my prom. They are so tight on my calves that I feel the boots cutting off my circulation when I stand up. I pull and yank to get them off and ask for another size. I went three sizes up from my standard boot size, and they still feel awful. At this point, I don’t care how great they fit. I am ready to get on the slopes.
We should have checked one more thing before we left—which slopes were open. Today, the majority of the slopes, including all of the black slopes, are closed. It was my new mission to ski down every open slope. With the open ones, I would be finished by lunch.
Blowing Rock
There is one store I always visit first in Blowing Rock: The Last Straw. When I enter this store, I feel like it’s officially Christmas season. Each room is decorated with a theme. My favorite room is covered in white from head to toe.
Shopping is going great, except for the weather. It’s cold. My hands are freezing. I have no idea where my gloves went, but my hands are turning purple. I decide to get some coffee to warm up. After ordering a a Cookie Butter latte at Blue Deer on Main Coffee Shop I watch my hands return to their standard color before heading back outside.
When I walk into the Gilded Lily and I see it. A red plaid dress with tiered ruffles. I declare to my boyfriend and friend, “I want that dress.” We search the store. I can’t find it anywhere. The store has a downstairs showroom. I head there. No luck. Where is this dress? I finally decided to ask the employee at the counter. “Excuse me, where is this dress in the store?” I ask while pointing at the manikin. “You’re looking at it, honey,” she replies in a sweet southern accent. The dress was exactly my size on the manakin. She helps me take it off the manakin to try on. It’s perfect. I found my Christmas Eve dress. If I wasn’t already in the Christmas spirit, I am now.
Christmas Tree Farm
All I can think of is the opening scene to National Lampoons Christmas Vacation when they cut down a Christmas Tree and strap it to their tiny car. That is what we are going to do with my cousin. She is picking out a Christmas tree to take home. At the same time, I have seen it in movies but never in real life. I grew up with fake Christmas trees and a candle that smelled like pine trees. We always spent Christmas in India with my grandparents. Having a real tree was a fire hazard.
Heading home
The worst part is leaving. I have a sense of dread in my gut all morning. The trip is over. Another Thanksgiving in Boon North Carolina well spent. That sentiment doesn’t fully hit me until I am hugging my aunt goodbye at the airport—complete dread. I watch a movie on the plane and look through photos from the week to take my mind off it. I laugh. The pictures of us covered in snow are hilarious. When my flight arrives in O’hare, the airport halls are covered in bows, lights, and wreaths. In a few short weeks, it will be Christmas. The dread left me.
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