An Accent on Travel

We are having a marvelous time with Lise and her friend Chris. They flew into Asheville, giving us an opportunity to see the little airport for the first time.

Chris is a train fan, which of course delighted John. We rode behind a steam engine at the Tennessee Railroad Valley Museum in Chattanooga. There were photo ops galore.

 

 

We stayed at the Chattanooga ChooChoo hotel, a place still full of railroad memorabilia. There used to be a nice restaurant in the old railroad station, but no more. Now that space is used only for a $10 breakfast. Sitting in the lobby, Lise and I checked our cell phones and found a local barbecue joint that looked authentic. Tasting barbecue was high on Lise’s list for Chris. Photos couldn’t capture the fun we had. Our young waitress noticed John’s accent and had him pegged as a New Yorker. I was listening to her and found she was a local. The young lady checked on us often, and finally asked where we came from.

John answered, “Denmark, England, West Tennessee, and New York.”

She was intrigued and stood there chatting. I think she was hoping for a brief bio from each of us so she could listen to our accents. The owner sauntered over, and I wanted to keep him talking so that Chris could soak in his Tennessee mountain version of English. It was unique. I didn’t ask Chris if he understood him. I’m almost positive the man would not have been able to decipher Chris’ Manchester accent. When we left, we all agreed we had experienced authentic tastes and sounds of the area.