Visit Amish Country - Dave Coffman, Idaho Falls ID
Corn. Lots of it. I gazed out the window, sorting through my kaleidoscope of feelings. This day hadn't been quite what I expected...if I even knew what that was. What was it that I was hoping for, and did I really expect to accomplish it in one day?
We had left at eight that morning. Pretty early for a Saturday, at least for me. As Neal, Kara, Frank and I all piled into Neal's car, we joked that the Amish had probably been up for hours. We left our city of sky-scrapers behind us and headed east towards the most rural parts of Indiana. Two hours of beautiful autumn, quirky conversation, and an episode of "Parks and Recreation" later, we entered the town of Nappanee, IN, population 7,000. Neal fiddled with his iPod, and moments later I heard the familiar tune of Weird Al Yankovic's "Amish Paradise". I smiled. This is why I liked Neal. I could always count on him to make each occasion memorable.
Downtown Nappanee was about a couple blocks long and a couple blocks wide. A charming sign at the entrance encouraged us, or maybe even warned us, to "Embrace the Pace." As we drove down the narrow one-lane streets, we eyed each resident with great expectation. "She's riding a bike; do you think she's one?" "He has a beard and no mustache; he must be one!" We played this tacky guessing game the two minutes to our first destination, Amish Acres.
Amish Acres looked much like any small-town Halloween festival. There was a fire warming a large kettle in the middle of the square and the surrounding cottages were lined with scarecrows and pumpkins.
The first thing that caught our eye was "The Ring Game." The game consisted of a wooden pole, a metal ring attached to about four feet of wire, and a hook. The object is to stand a couple feet from the pole, suspending the ring in the air and dropping it at the right height so that it will swing forward, ricochet off the pole, and catch the hook. Sounds relatively simple, right?
Frank was the first to try.
After 8 attempts, he lost interest. It was my turn. I stood back, my hand level with my nose, and released. The ring hit the hook with a playful clink and bounced off. I tried again, this time raising it a little higher; same result. Neal walked up in the middle of my fourth attempt and asked what we were doing. Just as I was about to explain, the ring hit the hook with a clank. To my surprise and child-like joy, I had done it! Well of course I had made it look very easy, so Neal had to try it as well. He stepped up to the plate and failed a glorious four times! This made the victory so much more delicious!
The four of us moved on to explore the rest of the village. The main shop was full of touristy items like bonnets and black felt hats. I picked up a doll clothed in the traditional Amish dress. Disappointment was slowly creeping its way into my mind. I had envisioned a local market with Amish neighbors selling hand-crafted items and fresh produce from their gardens. These cheese and fudge shops, while charming, seemed to be "Acres" away from what I was looking for.
Eventually we made our way to Kuhn's Cider and Grist Mill. We must have been between sessions because, aside from a few bees, it was uninhabited. Neal played bartender and poured us each a shot of apple cider. We chuckled as we sipped the sweet nectar, but I could feel that all of us were becoming less and less enthusiastic. In a last effort to soak up "The Amish way,
A little deflated and smelling of campfire, we headed back to the car. I guess what I really wanted was to interact with an Amish person and catch a glimpse of what it felt like to be in their world. Without sounding like a contradiction, I was searching for the modern Amish experience, and it wasn't here. We were cruising the surrounding countryside, debating on what town we should visit next, when we spotted it: Our first Amish carriage! Now I hope I don't sound disrespectful, but it was almost as if I had stumbled upon Santa's workshop and discovered that he wasn't a fairy tale after all! It was an odd joy to see this illustration of a lifestyle so different than my own. The others in the car seemed to share my excitement. A little further down the road, there were two Amish men working in the yard while their children played under a clothesline of simple, dark-colored garments, flapping in the breeze. So far our experience had failed to meet our expectations, but this little glimpse of these peculiar people renewed our enthusiasm...and curiosity. So it was a farewell embrace to the Nappanee pace, and on to the rest of Amish Country.
We didn't have to look very hard in Shipshewana. On our way into town, we must have passed at least five carriages clopping along in their very own lane. The carriages were hard to miss with their boxy black exterior and reflective orange triangles on the back. Our metal mound of sparks and and vapors zoomed past them one by one. I shook my head. In my commuting world where I often gripe at the pace of the CTA, it was hard to imagine traveling everywhere by bike or buggy. However, I tapped myself, unlike driving in Chicago, I they probably never have incidents of carriage tailing.
We decided to stop and eat at the Blue Gate, a popular family-style restaurant nestled in the middle of Riegsecker Marketplace. The restaurant was like one large dining room, no booths or creative lighting to give you a sense of privacy. We perused the menu. The crew teased me as I searched through the meatloaf and mashed potatoes, for the most authentic Amish meal. After much debate, I settled on a noodle dish. The fact that it had "Amish" in it's title didn't hurt. While waited for our food we checked our cell phones and chatted about trivial things. I stole little glances about the room at the other tourists, some sitting close enough to touch, who like me, were trying to get in on the Amish experience. Our bonnet-wearing waitress, a very warm and hospitable woman, arrived with the food. My dish looked an awful lot like mashed potatoes bathed in chicken noodle soup. The presentation was anything but pretentious. As I alternated between slurping and chewing, I couldn't help but grin at the contrast between my old-fashioned meal and our group's discussion on laser hair-removal.
Outside the restaurant was an Amish man offering carriage tours around town. This carriage had three rows of seats, kind of like an Amish limo. We asked him if we could take a look, and to our surprise he raised the door panels and invited us inside. The interior was roomier than I expected. Kara and I sat down on the bench covered in royal blue crushed velvet. It was surprisingly comfortable. I wondered if all carriages were this way or if they designed it especially for the tourists' spoiled bottoms. For a moment I tried to imagine what it would be like to travel from place to place with no extra leg room and very little light.
For these people, a nearness to God requires a sacrifice that most of us have trouble comprehending. I think as time goes on I get more and more comfortable with the sacrifices my beliefs require, but as I type these words on my beautiful iMac, drinking a hot chocolate that I warmed in a microwave, I'm a little relieved that those sacrifices don't include electricity. If they did, would I have the faith to give up a lot of the modern conveniences that I have?
We had left at eight that morning. Pretty early for a Saturday, at least for me. As Neal, Kara, Frank and I all piled into Neal's car, we joked that the Amish had probably been up for hours. We left our city of sky-scrapers behind us and headed east towards the most rural parts of Indiana. Two hours of beautiful autumn, quirky conversation, and an episode of "Parks and Recreation" later, we entered the town of Nappanee, IN, population 7,000. Neal fiddled with his iPod, and moments later I heard the familiar tune of Weird Al Yankovic's "Amish Paradise". I smiled. This is why I liked Neal. I could always count on him to make each occasion memorable.
Downtown Nappanee was about a couple blocks long and a couple blocks wide. A charming sign at the entrance encouraged us, or maybe even warned us, to "Embrace the Pace." As we drove down the narrow one-lane streets, we eyed each resident with great expectation. "She's riding a bike; do you think she's one?" "He has a beard and no mustache; he must be one!" We played this tacky guessing game the two minutes to our first destination, Amish Acres.
Amish Acres looked much like any small-town Halloween festival. There was a fire warming a large kettle in the middle of the square and the surrounding cottages were lined with scarecrows and pumpkins.
The first thing that caught our eye was "The Ring Game." The game consisted of a wooden pole, a metal ring attached to about four feet of wire, and a hook. The object is to stand a couple feet from the pole, suspending the ring in the air and dropping it at the right height so that it will swing forward, ricochet off the pole, and catch the hook. Sounds relatively simple, right?
Frank was the first to try.
After 8 attempts, he lost interest. It was my turn. I stood back, my hand level with my nose, and released. The ring hit the hook with a playful clink and bounced off. I tried again, this time raising it a little higher; same result. Neal walked up in the middle of my fourth attempt and asked what we were doing. Just as I was about to explain, the ring hit the hook with a clank. To my surprise and child-like joy, I had done it! Well of course I had made it look very easy, so Neal had to try it as well. He stepped up to the plate and failed a glorious four times! This made the victory so much more delicious!The four of us moved on to explore the rest of the village. The main shop was full of touristy items like bonnets and black felt hats. I picked up a doll clothed in the traditional Amish dress. Disappointment was slowly creeping its way into my mind. I had envisioned a local market with Amish neighbors selling hand-crafted items and fresh produce from their gardens. These cheese and fudge shops, while charming, seemed to be "Acres" away from what I was looking for.
Eventually we made our way to Kuhn's Cider and Grist Mill. We must have been between sessions because, aside from a few bees, it was uninhabited. Neal played bartender and poured us each a shot of apple cider. We chuckled as we sipped the sweet nectar, but I could feel that all of us were becoming less and less enthusiastic. In a last effort to soak up "The Amish way,
we attended the Apple Butter exhibition. We gathered around the steaming caldron while a man explained the long process of boiling apples into a smooth spread. At the end of the demonstration, we were offered a small taste. As I sampled this heavenly concoction, I took inventory of this heritage center. It was a charming representation of the Amish culture. For $12.95 you could take a tour of an old Amish home and a carriage ride; for a little more, you could see a play of how the Amish came to be. For the typical tourist, this would be more than enough, but for me, it felt ...incomplete.
A little deflated and smelling of campfire, we headed back to the car. I guess what I really wanted was to interact with an Amish person and catch a glimpse of what it felt like to be in their world. Without sounding like a contradiction, I was searching for the modern Amish experience, and it wasn't here. We were cruising the surrounding countryside, debating on what town we should visit next, when we spotted it: Our first Amish carriage! Now I hope I don't sound disrespectful, but it was almost as if I had stumbled upon Santa's workshop and discovered that he wasn't a fairy tale after all! It was an odd joy to see this illustration of a lifestyle so different than my own. The others in the car seemed to share my excitement. A little further down the road, there were two Amish men working in the yard while their children played under a clothesline of simple, dark-colored garments, flapping in the breeze. So far our experience had failed to meet our expectations, but this little glimpse of these peculiar people renewed our enthusiasm...and curiosity. So it was a farewell embrace to the Nappanee pace, and on to the rest of Amish Country.
We didn't have to look very hard in Shipshewana. On our way into town, we must have passed at least five carriages clopping along in their very own lane. The carriages were hard to miss with their boxy black exterior and reflective orange triangles on the back. Our metal mound of sparks and and vapors zoomed past them one by one. I shook my head. In my commuting world where I often gripe at the pace of the CTA, it was hard to imagine traveling everywhere by bike or buggy. However, I tapped myself, unlike driving in Chicago, I they probably never have incidents of carriage tailing.We decided to stop and eat at the Blue Gate, a popular family-style restaurant nestled in the middle of Riegsecker Marketplace. The restaurant was like one large dining room, no booths or creative lighting to give you a sense of privacy. We perused the menu. The crew teased me as I searched through the meatloaf and mashed potatoes, for the most authentic Amish meal. After much debate, I settled on a noodle dish. The fact that it had "Amish" in it's title didn't hurt. While waited for our food we checked our cell phones and chatted about trivial things. I stole little glances about the room at the other tourists, some sitting close enough to touch, who like me, were trying to get in on the Amish experience. Our bonnet-wearing waitress, a very warm and hospitable woman, arrived with the food. My dish looked an awful lot like mashed potatoes bathed in chicken noodle soup. The presentation was anything but pretentious. As I alternated between slurping and chewing, I couldn't help but grin at the contrast between my old-fashioned meal and our group's discussion on laser hair-removal.
Outside the restaurant was an Amish man offering carriage tours around town. This carriage had three rows of seats, kind of like an Amish limo. We asked him if we could take a look, and to our surprise he raised the door panels and invited us inside. The interior was roomier than I expected. Kara and I sat down on the bench covered in royal blue crushed velvet. It was surprisingly comfortable. I wondered if all carriages were this way or if they designed it especially for the tourists' spoiled bottoms. For a moment I tried to imagine what it would be like to travel from place to place with no extra leg room and very little light.
Family road trips would be tricky.
We explored some of the Riegsecker shops and stopped at the local Yoder Department Store before taking off for our final destination: The Das Dutchman Essenhaus bakery in Middlebury. On the way out of town, we passed a couple farmsteads. On one side of the road there was a farmer driving a tractor, and on the other side there was an Amish farmer driving a horse-drawn plow. It was an odd feeling; almost as if the past and the present were running parallel before our eyes.
We were at the bakery within 15 minutes. One nice thing about these towns; they're so close to each other. The bakery was full of cheeses, spices, and many other fun things to eat. I picked up a couple jars of Apple Butter and treated my patient and good-humored friends to something sweet. At Frank's recommendation, Kara and Neal each indulged in a fancy cookie sandwich called, "Whoopie Pie." Of course, this name spurred jokes about "Making whoopie," most of the ride home. Frank and I each decided upon a slice of pie from the Essenhaus' proud assortment of 21 flavors. His choice, Coconut Cream. My choice, their popular, Raspberry Cream.
It had been an interesting day, and now we were headed home. Maybe I had been a little naive in thinking that I could just insert myself into this way of life. The whole point of the Amish culture, down to the buttons on their pants, is to be humble and set apart. And maybe the Amish tourism that I resisted so much, isn't such a bad thing. While obviously surface, it allows people to get a taste of the Amish lifestyle without interfering with these peaceful people. The elderly woman loading up her tricycle-like transportation outside the Yoder department store, wasn't there for our amusement and observation. She was living the life she had lived for the past 80 some odd years; a life that she believes God wants her to live.
We were at the bakery within 15 minutes. One nice thing about these towns; they're so close to each other. The bakery was full of cheeses, spices, and many other fun things to eat. I picked up a couple jars of Apple Butter and treated my patient and good-humored friends to something sweet. At Frank's recommendation, Kara and Neal each indulged in a fancy cookie sandwich called, "Whoopie Pie." Of course, this name spurred jokes about "Making whoopie," most of the ride home. Frank and I each decided upon a slice of pie from the Essenhaus' proud assortment of 21 flavors. His choice, Coconut Cream. My choice, their popular, Raspberry Cream.
It had been an interesting day, and now we were headed home. Maybe I had been a little naive in thinking that I could just insert myself into this way of life. The whole point of the Amish culture, down to the buttons on their pants, is to be humble and set apart. And maybe the Amish tourism that I resisted so much, isn't such a bad thing. While obviously surface, it allows people to get a taste of the Amish lifestyle without interfering with these peaceful people. The elderly woman loading up her tricycle-like transportation outside the Yoder department store, wasn't there for our amusement and observation. She was living the life she had lived for the past 80 some odd years; a life that she believes God wants her to live.
For these people, a nearness to God requires a sacrifice that most of us have trouble comprehending. I think as time goes on I get more and more comfortable with the sacrifices my beliefs require, but as I type these words on my beautiful iMac, drinking a hot chocolate that I warmed in a microwave, I'm a little relieved that those sacrifices don't include electricity. If they did, would I have the faith to give up a lot of the modern conveniences that I have?
We live in such a media-crazed world and I admit having been a slave to Youtube and Facebook on more than one occasion. It doesn't seem too peculiar to want to block out some of that noise to focus on being a better person and connecting spiritually.
As we once again approached our city of steel towers, I pondered that it might be good for me to unplug for awhile. I made a little promise to myself to follow the Amish example and take a break from the "noisy media". Feeling a little better about my Amish experience, I tuned back in to the car conversation. The evening was still young and Frank and Kara were suggesting we see a movie...a movie I really wanted to see.
I bit my lip. This didn't quite fit in with my brilliant new plan. After debating for about 5 seconds, I shrugged a laugh.
I could stay plugged in for one more night...
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As we once again approached our city of steel towers, I pondered that it might be good for me to unplug for awhile. I made a little promise to myself to follow the Amish example and take a break from the "noisy media". Feeling a little better about my Amish experience, I tuned back in to the car conversation. The evening was still young and Frank and Kara were suggesting we see a movie...a movie I really wanted to see.
I bit my lip. This didn't quite fit in with my brilliant new plan. After debating for about 5 seconds, I shrugged a laugh.
I could stay plugged in for one more night...
Have an opinion about what you just read? Leave a comment! Don't have a Google account? No problem. Just click the anonymous option.
