It’s weird going from bus to “estate,” but I think it was necessary for us to get a genuine feel for the neighborhood we were in. The Light Factory and Jonell Logan from 300 Arts in Charlotte decided to put us up in one of Charlotte’s most historic bed & breakfasts: the Vanlandingham Estate. (You can’t say it without sounding like a pompous ass.) While the guys, including Craig the bus driver, had rooms to themselves, Helen, Jasmine and I stayed up in the attic together, plush with wicker, frilly lace and yellow walls. When the concierge was showing us our options since we had the entire main building to ourselves, she remarked in her Southern twang, “the last one I think the girls will love…” funny, I thought as she said it, how assumptions can be confused with truths.
Helen and I shared a canopy bed, and Jasmine picked the day bed by the bathroom. All of the rooms were eerily named after historic men who had passed — aristocrats, actors, writers… all from the area, I assume, because I had never heard about them before. And every corner of the room had the most random, antique decor: roller skates, a rocking horse, Russian dolls, and autographed pictures of the dead guy the room was named after.
We explored the five acres of gardens, swung on the tree swing, had breakfast served to us on fine china, and unabashedly took several showers during our stay on the estate. Rule number 3: take as many showers as possible while you have them because you never know when you won’t. All of this felt strangely routine for this quiet, quaint little bungalow neighborhood – but as we walked a mile from the estate to our location outside of the light factory, along the historic road passing by manicured lawns and elaborate entryways, I couldn’t help but make an assumption myself. After two days of barely anyone stopping by to give us a truth, I assumed that Charlotte had many secrets that possibly I’d never be witness to.
Ciertamente con amor y paz,