There shouldn't be any need to justify the reasons for going to Michigan. After all, when you're going to Paris, no one tilts their head to the side, narrows their brows and asks why?
"Paris and Michigan aren't the same thing," you might think. "Paris is a destination, Michigan is just a state." It's like comparing a roadside stand selling apples to a Michelin starred restaurant.
Well, I happen to like apples from roadside stands.
I also like occasionally getting a break from DVT-creating flights, the hassle of money exchanges, taxing my brain with non-English languages and all of the other bits that make foreign travel a less relaxing experience than what I hope for when I go on vacation.
(Jenese, I hope you've already stopped reading and skipped to the photos)
It turns out we know a surprising number of people from the region so we got numerous inspiring and helpful recommendations. We received so many, in fact, that we couldn't include everything, even though we drove 1,000 miles in the six days we were gone.
However, sore butts, backs and weight gain were all worth it for the opportunity to experience the sights below.
Enjoy.
(Yes, it's all in one go, not broken up into different posts because that's how I'm rolling these days)
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The house at Lake Leelanau.
Off the back deck it was just a few steps down to the lake. We had planned on kayaking from there only to discover that every kayak in the state had been put in winter storage the week prior to our arrival.
To pass the time we had to resort to the second option which included drinking cider by the fire and reading books.
It was rough.
The New York Times 36 Hours has a section on Traverse City. We took most of its suggestions and planned our six days around it, including dinner at the former Northern Michigan Asylum for the insane which has been converted to a series of shops, restaurants and an assisted living facility for seniors.
At Trattoria Stella, which is the basement of the old asylum, we had one of the best meals we've ever eaten (yes, it rivaled Paris).
The weather vacillated between sunny and cloudy but the day time temperatures were a pretty consistent 68 degrees which was ideal for touring around.
We drove up the Old Mission Peninsula and enjoyed more gorgeousness.
Fishtown in Leland, Michigan.
We had to get in some obligatory school time for Lucian so we went to the Music House Museum but we forgot about little details like closing times. We arrived at 3:58 and discovered it closes at 4:00.
Fortunately there is a world-class docent there named Ed Kennedy who shrugged off his evening dinner plans and let these foolish Californians tour the place anyway.
I'll be honest, I did no research on the place (obviously, otherwise I might have noted the hours of operation), all I cared about what that it was some kind of museum and I could assuage my guilt over my children's spotty education.
Turns out it's a massive collection of automated musical instruments from early in the 20th century and included on the tour is a chance to sample the sounds of almost all of them. It didn't make for very interesting photos but the experience in person was not to be missed. (For the record, you're supposed to show up by 2 because the tour is about 2 hours. You can see what a favor Ed Kennedy did for us).
Suttons Bay
Between all of the tiny towns there are roadside stands selling pumpkins, apples, local jams and syrup. Naturally we were greedy and bought far more than we should have. Packing for the return trip almost reminded me of the contortions we go through getting the palinka and honey home from Romania.
We split the drive to Chicago in half and stayed the last night in Holland, Michigan which has lovely scenery but not much to recommend it in terms of good dining options. We drove up to Grand Rapids to a raucous tapas bar.
We finished the trip with a final cheesy pose in front of the windmill at the completely deserted Holland Gardens.
Considering the fact that I was after an easy, relaxing holiday, Michigan ended up completely fitting the bill (sans kayaking but, hey, you can't have everything). What was surprising was just how good the food was: Grove and Trattoria Stella rivaled Paris and Italy, the tapas bar reminded us of Barcelona and then we ended up hanging out by windmills in Holland.
No DVTs, no currency exchange or long customs lines, just a lot of gorgeous scenery and good food and some stressing over how to keep our luggage under weight with all of the food and liquids were were bringing back.
It was like being in Europe after all.
