'Who you gonna call when your belly hurts, y'all? Egg Busters!'

This is a real quote from a real sign outside Waffle House somewhere in Tennessee.
The last few days have been quite unreal. We're now officially in the South. People's accents have thickened and they call each other 'y'all' like we're in a very big TV show.

While eating bananas around milepost 250 of the Blue Ridge Parkway, we had a quick chat with a middle-aged man. He heard our accents and said 'Doesn't it look like the hills of Scotland?'. We replied 'Yes. But bigger' and he replied with what has become the motto of our trip: 'Ain't nothing bigger than America!'

Reflecting on his comment, we pulled out at a café.

Bluff's café is not especially nice-looking but the waitresses are worth the trip. I won't describe them. All I will say is that they started working there between the café's opening in 1949 and 1952.

We got off the parkway after spending the night in what could possibly be called 'The best friggin' hotel in the world'. All the cabins had balconies with the most amazing view onto the widest sunset I have ever seen. The fact that we made the manager let us have the room for half the price helped too. We got up at sunrise and drank coffee on the balcony, waiting for the sun to come out to play.

Stumbling upon a Palin lookalike competition on TV, we realised it was Halloween and thought that visiting Ghost Town in the Sky would be an excellent thing to do. It wasn't. Well I guess it made us glad that we could now say we had been to the worst theme park in the whole wide world. If you drive past Maggie Valley, North Carolina, do not go to Ghost Town in the Sky. It sounds like the best place on Planet Earth (a theme park atop a mountain) but it is crappy and a little depressing. The only good good thing about it is that you have to get onto a chairlift to get there.

I have to stop typing. I feel ill from eating too much really really good fried catfish from Swamp John's in Muscle Schoal, Alabama.