Follow Our Road Tripper Around Kentucky
Posted on 12. Oct, 2009 by admin in News blog
Kentucky Tried?
Hi yall, I’m off to Kentucky: home of the thoroughbred racehorses and American racing, the bourbon capital of the world, the home of Muhammad Ali, the Louisville Slugger baseball bat, bluegrass music, the gateway to the South, Mammoth Caves, the biggest cave system in the US, and Cumberland Falls, the only place save for Victoria Falls where you get “moonbows”. Of vast state parks, sprawling lakes and good old southern hospitality. And yes, the home of Kentucky Fried Chicken and Colonel Sanders!
“How you doing”
The first thing that hits you about Kentucky, is the people. Friendly isn’t the word. Everyone says “hello”, or “morning”, or “hi”, or “how you doing”. They make eye contact. And when they say “have a good day”, it’s as if they mean it – none of this “have a nice day” supermarket checkout faux pleasantry, which can often translate as “Look I have to say this, otherwise I get sacked – I couldn’t really give two cents if you get mugged on the way out and your car gets totalled by a bus”.
“Yep, they’re friendly, very friendly” says Craig, a diver from Wisconsin checking out supports on one of the new river bridges. “And they mean it, it’s not like Detroit.”
I sat next to Craig on the plane from Detroit, perhaps the smallest airplane I have encountered. It figures, Lexington is one of the smallest airports I have encountered, save for the early days of Ryanair flying into one-man flying school aerodromes in suburban Oslo, Norway. On the other side of the coin, baggage pick-up, rental cars and the 10 yard walk from the plane to arrivals is a plus.
Lexington
East Main in Lexington, Kentucky
Now cute or quaint aint the word for this town, the capital of horses. Compared to much of urban America, it’s positively regal. Surrounded by undulating bluegrass fields, horse ranches and stud farms, pockmarked by old wooden barns, lined by pretty green, black or traditionally white plank fences or stone walls, all topped off by the palatial mansions of the “colonels”, the thoroughbred horse trainers and ranch owners.
The city of nearly 250,000 is brimming with Victorian townhouses, wooden arched gables, stone window ledges, clapperboard faciers, with neo-classical collonades on the leading up the covered porches; townhouses all, it’s an America I haven’t seen before. Most of the town seems to be lined with these old homes, save for a part of downtown, where the high-rise banks have sprouted, albeit for only a block or two. Banks such as the oddly named skyrise tower of the Fifth Third Ban”, which makes you wonder what happened to the first four.
Front Porches of Houses in Lexington, Kentucky
Its clear Lexington has history, as befits horse country. Pioneers came here after the Revolutionary War (the War of Independence in this Brit’s book), settling for the vast pastures and naming the town after the battle which sealed victory. The horse farms and breeders came soon afterwards.
It claims to be the Horse Capital of the World – and why not? Nearly everyone here has links to the trade, be they the marketing manager of a horse-feed firm, jockey or a trainee vet. Well, nearly everyone: in downtown Lexington, law practices abound, and it’s clear quite a few people are majoring in criminal justice or work at the nearby law firms. Perhaps there are major disputes between ranch owners (“hey, that’s my horse” … “no it’s not, it mine!” “Prove it!”)
Basketball
Don’t mention the word basketball; it’s Kentucky’s major sport and the team, UK (University of Kentucky, based in Lexington) has just lost in the quarter finals to Oklahoma). Still, they don’t seem too upset at the Sidebar grill, a funky indie-style bar serving value for money burgers and steaks on 147 North Limestone (www.sidebargrill.com). It’s $5.99 for a ground sirloin patty burger with cheddar, onion, pickle and lettuce, with fries. The bottled Kentucky Ale, a lively brew, and tasty, rocks in at 5.4%. “Yeh, don’t mention the game,” says Anna, the waitress. “It sucks.” If you want a more fancy meal, try La Deauville bistro or La La Lucy’s on East Main.
You won’t mention the game at Mia’s, either, a lively bar this Monday night. Everyone is too busy getting drunk. It’ the only bar buzzing this night on the edge of the downtown area; McCarthy’s is dead, as is Molly’s, and Cheapside, next to the being-renovated old market is quiet too. Well, it is Monday, and 10pm. so why is Mia’s throbbing? Karaoke. or, to be precise, gay and lesbian karaoke.
You do know it’s a gay and lesbian bar, ask Brian? I kinda figured, a casual glance of the student clientele and the karaoke playlist gave it away (Neil Diamond, for your future reference). And who else, on a Monday night, before the start of the annual spring race meet at nearby Keeneland racetrack, would be whooping it up on a Monday night.
Oh, my God, I just love your accent….
Kentucky doesn’t get many visitors from across the pond (well, not just across the pond – across the Appalachians, and West Virginia, then Virgina, and then the pond). You can tell, ‘cos when you speak, many people look, well, if not exactly awestruck, at least phazed or non-plussed. “Oh-my-God, I just love your accent!” You can never tire of that phrase. I might even get a t-shirt saying it. I was gonna get a T-shirt with the design I Heart Kentucky, in the same design as HK or NY, but with KY being the abbreviation, well, perhaps not.
- Gratz Park Inn in Kentucky
The Gratz Park Inn
I’m staying at the Gratz Park Inn (http://www.gratzparkinn.com/photoGallery.html), a converted old Victorian mansion home in deep downtown, a refurbished grand Victorian property with a classical piano taking pride of place in the lounge/reception. The bedroom is vast, dominated by perhaps the comfiest double-poster bed I have slept in. After the missed connection at Detroit, I need some shuteye. A lush four-poster bed kinda helps.
DAY TWO
Come on, when in America, it’s best to track down some little corner of Americana, which is kinda hard to find in refined, Victorian Lexington. Take one step forward, the Parkette, a fabled old 50s drive-in diner just off the junction to Winchester. Hidden in a sea of drive-in shops, motor malls, fast-food joints and other assembled anomalies, sits the Parkette. The huge towering sign shouts Shrimp boxes and fried chicken.
Sign outside Parkette
You simply pull in, drive up to a bay with a speaker and menu and order, the waitress will then come deliver. Sounds simple, but it aint – for starter, you have to make sure you park driver-side next to the meNu and ordering machine. Secondly, you have to make sure that particular bay machine works. On the third attempt, my face as red as burger ketchup, I succeed.
Gloria rolls out with my “poorboy”, a $2.99 Big Mac double beef ground sirloin, with red onion, tomato, special Parkette sauce and mustard and pickle. It’s not bad for $2.99, redolent of a Big Mac, but less processed, which kinda figures, cos apparently, the Parkette used to be an original McDonald’s. Hee they offer shrimpbozes, tender shrimp, deep fried, or chicken, deep fried, apparently it’s famous, it’s deep fried in lard.
Parkette Owners
Nowadays, the Parkette host 50s retro nights, where, I guess, people in long ra-ra skirts bobby socks, ponytails and pluco-quiffed guys in baseball jackets re-enact the T-Birds and the Pink Ladies in their old cadillacs.
Photo of Yellow Plymouth Duster
Next up, the drive to Louisville, through Georgetown, Frankfort and Shelbyville …
(“Oooh, there’s a cow!)
