Arkan-Sass

Welcome to Arkansas. After a bruising sleep on the floor of the Dallas-Fort Worth airport from 5AM to 8AM, we arrived in sunny Little Rock. I will never forget my parents' utter astonishment at paying 50 cents for the airport parking. (What costs 50 cents?) I immediately dragged everyone to a corner of Little Rock with a bakery I'd read about - a European bakery inside a Kroger's, right next to the Kroger's bakery - for some breakfast.


My cousin's wedding was the couple's personal creation, making the affair touching, familiar, welcoming, and fun. Maybe it was my baby cousin's red face or just the bride's father's kareoked belting. Maybe it was the several glasses of wine, which slowed me down by 1am but not my family, who yakked it up in the hotel until at least 4am. (Grandma, we missed you.)


Lesson 1: you cannot recycle a THING in Little Rock.
Lesson 2: there is much skepticism around whether the ivory billed woodpecker truly exists in Brinkley AR
Lesson 3: "Petit Jean" is pronounced "pettyjohn."

Jenny, Nick and I headed up to Petit Jean State Park, a beautiful spot on a hill you can see for miles, in what the locals call "the mountains." Here's Jenny, looking out into the flattest mountains ever.

We took what was described on paper and a huge red sign as a rigorous hike warning WARNING, but didn't find much to twist an ankle on, let alone get us out of breath.

Naturally we disobeyed the caution and the prohibition. The sight at the end of the tunnel was worth it - a durn pretty waterfall. We soaked in it. How could you resist?

From there we booked it down to Hot Springs, pausing only to stare at rock collection that was difficult to pass up. In Hot Springs, our Happy Hollow Motel had all the amenities we needed. Nick had his hair straightened. Would you look at that?!




The next morning, we toured old bathhouses. This is my favorite piece of decadence, a window, next to an extreme oddity, chiropody.