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  • Writer's pictureTuananh

Hocking Hills

September 11, 2016

Twice in the valley of Columbus, I sense the red-blooded obedience of the mighty buckeyes. A sip of durian ice cream, chicken popcorn, and a Taiwanese egg noodle to remind us of home, but lastly it was a quaint entree of hotpots to keep our bellies burning. Visiting the Northern Coast is always acquainted with a short stop to the Grandview Mercantile, where bargains like a brass scale or the manual record player are true and some Tiffany's to keep our sense of class appeasing. Kicking our feet up for the night, the picture-show played a mischievous character and his odd abortive girlfriend that guilt tripped him as he unsuccessfully pursued the more flirtatious office beauty queen. A comedic ending to an afternoon of glutinous satisfaction and the oddity of foreign films.

Too early for pho, but we swallowed some agonizing self pride and followed the crowd in for a bowl. Our appetite to capacity, we stumbled on some antiques and the local Buberb Pie. Boutiques that showcased elements of a time lost, ateliers of the neglected and decayed, parlours of what had transpired through these local corn fields - their style, their passion, and their simplicity. We considered many, we left empty handed, perhaps too spoiled by the sweets of life to only consider a postcard worth 35c. Perusing through the barn that housed few valuable trinkets, we stumbled to the local barbecue pit for some indulgence on a platter, stout to help the craving, and corn bread for the memories.

Turn left, turn right, up and down, through the bends we hunted for the Old Man's Cave. The tranquil clam shell with its adorable bridges, over passing ginkgo trees and the quaint stream whose drippings faded into a waterfall. Even pebbles that bothered us couldn't keep us away from the glowing boulder that echoed the short "haunting" stroll to Cedars Fall. Rolling out of this lost little valley of Hocking Hills was a sweet pair of Accord owners pairing themselves on the highway after dedication on a gratifying build. But before we could head home to the likes of Mitchell's and Menchies, we had to grab a #8 at the local White Castle off the 71, and some bubble tea with our initials engraved on the back wall, we stamped ourselves to many places, but few without the other. Perhaps this is what equate to the fact that "we gotta do things together", so together it is. Another adventure is here, had passed, and followed by yet another. I gasp. I ponder to the next dream that awaits with excitement and endearment. (The Hocking Hills, OH)


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