Missouri (Jefferson City)

Is it Missour-ee or Missour-uh? Legend has it that the former is how the city slickers say it, and the latter is what the country folks use. The truth is that it’s probably a generational thing; and that these days, most people end Missouri the same way they end Mississippi. Hey, how ’bout that: Missouri and Mississippi each has a big river! And those two rivers happen to do much to define the Show Me State geographically and culturally.

Missouri State Capitol

The Missouri (River) enters the state at Kansas City, one of my very favorite cities. Smack-dab in the middle of the country, hiding in plain sight and dismissed by coastal snobs as “flyover country,” Kansas City is almost always a pleasant surprise to first-time visitors. I began my most recent visit there at the Harry S. Truman Library and Museum in Independence. I’ve been there three times and I have yet to tire of the place. Of course, it’s always better to first hit Gates Bar-B-Q (there’s even one in Independence). I’ve wanted to visit the Truman Home, but each time I’ve been in Independence, the wait for tickets has been too long. Next time… From there, head downtown, hang a left on Main and head up to the Liberty Memorial, which offers a wonderful view of downtown KC. The National WWI Museum is up there, too. Head back to Main Street and turn right. In a mile or two, you’ll pass through Westport, a cool, trendy area with restaurants and clubs. Then you’ll hit Country Club Plaza, which may just be the most beautiful shopping district in the country. Sure, it’s ritzy; but its fountains and Spanish-style architecture mean that you can enjoy it without spending a dime. From there, head down Ward Parkway, and you’ll see why Kansas City is both the City of Fountains and the City of Boulevards. You’ll see plenty of mansions (and we’re not talking McMansions here), well-manicured lawns and high-end motor vehicles. And yet, there’s a down-to-earth spirit here, and it feels a tad bit more western than any other midwestern city. To me, KC is Missouri’s gem.

Then there’s St. Louis, near where the Missouri meets the mighty Mississipp … a strong, interesting city that has contributed a lot to shaping our country. I like St. Louis, but I’m not gonna lie: I think of it as a place that breeds douchebags. Beer-swilling, baseball-obsessed, financial advising douchebags. I met a few of ‘em in college, and some after; and I think of its citizenry as being the polar opposite of Kansas Citians in one important way: they take themselves way too seriously. As the largest metropolitan area between Chicago (#3) and Dallas (#4), perhaps the people of St. Louis (#18) and its environs view it as being on par with the big guys. It isn’t quite. That’s not to say it doesn’t have a lot going for it: I think the entertainment district adjacent to Busch Stadium is vibrant. Its Forest Park is pretty. Who doesn’t love the Gateway Arch? It’s a Fortune 500 powerhouse for a city its size; and its cultural, medical, sporting, dining and entertainment options are vast. Clayton, Missouri — an independent city located inside St. Louis — has a youthful, 20-something kind of energy, and other suburbs, particularly those in West County, are attractive and prosperous. I think I’d find St. Louis more appealing if it would lose the chip on its shoulder.

Beyond those two cities, I can’t say that Missouri has a particularly sharp identity. Its diversity is represented in many ways, not the least of which is politically. Missouri purports to be a battleground state, but unlike Ohio, Pennsylvania or Michigan, where its Democratic-leaning cities can trump its Republican-leaning rural areas, Missouri’s aforementioned country folk seem to be more in charge. Oh sure, its congressional delegation is composed of people from both parties; and though the Republicans are in the majority in the state House and Senate, it’s not by much and the governor is a Democrat. But Missouri’s suburban residents probably lean a little more red than in other places. Bottom line: the state is never really in play.

Its southern parts mimic Arkansas. If you’ve ever been to Branson, you know that it’s Vegas without the sin. The northern parts of the state are not unlike Iowa. Then there’s the center part of the state, which could be Anywhere, USA. I’ve had two overnights in Columbia, and I’m ashamed to say that I have yet to take in the campus of Mizzou, aka University of Missouri, aka Columbia. Maybe next time.

I’ve also been to Jefferson City twice, and I don’t suppose I’ll ever have a compelling reason to return. I think it’s a crummy place; and it’s kind of a pain to get to (it’s one of a handful of capital cities not located on or near an interstate highway). I’m not a fan of the large state/small capital dichotomy (Harrisburg, PA; Springfield, IL; and Albany, NY fall into this category, too.) The capitol itself is a fine building, a classic style with columns and a dome. Probably its most unique feature is the huge mural, or murals, representing Missouri state history, done by Thomas Hart Benton. I chuckled at the dancing girls in the corner, who represent Kansas City’s rollicking, bawdy history. I think it’s a mistake that they use part of the building as a museum… a few exhibits does not a museum make. The Missouri History Museum in St. Louis might do the trick better; I’d like to check it out next time I’m there.

Nevada (Carson City)

Poor, overlooked Nevada. It’s the 7th largest state by land area in the country, and it welcomes half a zillion visitors from all over the globe each year, but all that those visitors see of it is a 4-mile piece. And I’m not talking about the railway museum in Ely, or Winnemucca’s Buckaroo Hall of Fame. The state’s tourism board seems to go to great pains to emphasize that Nevada is more than just Las Vegas. But is it?

Nevada State Capitol

I began my most recent visit there in Reno, in order to find out. Well, that’s not entirely true. We flew into Reno-Tahoe International Airport, but we didn’t spend more than a moment in Reno itself. Truth is, from my research, I got the strong impression that Reno has seen better days; and there wasn’t a sight — not even the “Biggest Little City” sign — that trumped the other items on our itinerary. So we headed straight for Carson City. I hadn’t realized until we reached this tiny capital city that every town in Nevada, even the dustiest outpost, has a casino or two. Make no mistake, we’re not talking The Venetian here. These places are small, unglamorous and very, very “local.” So, pass the Horseshoe Club and go just beyond the Nugget, and you’ll find the Nevada State Capitol.

It took all of 20 minutes to tour the whole thing. The entrance is, to put it mildly, unspectacular. No soaring rotunda, no grand staircases, no dome that reaches to the heavens. It has all the gravitas of a county courthouse. In fact, it’s more of a historic capitol than a working capitol, because — like in Arizona, Florida and North Carolina — the legislature and supreme court are located in adjacent buildings. Still, the governor’s office is located there; and in the old Senate chamber, there are some exhibits on Nevada history, as well as the history of the capitol, that are interesting. I learned that in 1981, they gutted the building and gave it new innards. Even still, the place feels creaky to me.

Carson City is kind of a hoot, in an Old West sort of way. It has a few restaurants, and it has been built up with fast food restaurants and big box stores on the southern end of town. An easy drive from Reno and Lake Tahoe, it has enough stuff to do to fill up an afternoon. I was surprised by how enjoyable the Nevada State Museum is. After having just visited the underwhelming capitol, I was expecting to go through the museum in 10 minutes. But they did an excellent job featuring the mining, railroad and gaming history of Nevada. It does what I wish all state museums would: it demonstrates the ways that the state is distinctive from the other 49. Other than that, well, there are whorehouses. We could have kicked ourselves when, upon returning home, we learned that the famous Bunny Ranch and some other legal brothels are located no more than minutes from town. We would have loved to have gotten our pictures taken there.

I saw some “Nevada” bumper stickers while driving through these parts. I assume they refer to the university and its sports teams; but I bet you don’t see that a lot in greater Las Vegas. Northern Nevada seem to embrace the state and its ideals, which sets it apart from its neighboring states. Take, for example, uptight Utah. Sure, the people of both states — as well as most of the West — have a tradition of fiercely protecting individual liberties, a “back off, government” mentality and conservative leanings. But in Nevada, vice is legal, and that’s a big distinction. I respect it for that.

Head west on U.S. 50 from Carson City and you’ll get to Lake Tahoe in less than a half hour. Sure, Lake Tahoe is “shared” by Nevada and California, but most visitors stay on the southern end; and most of them probably stay on the California side, as did we. The Nevada side, in Stateline, has a few high-rise hotel/casinos. Built in the 60s and 70s, they have not aged particularly well. That’s not to say that I’m a casino expert; your average grandma is more of a high roller than me. I know where to put the dollar bill in, how to pull the slot machine’s arm, and that’s about it. So for me, a trip to a casino or two results in — at the most — an hour’s worth of entertainment. On the northern end of the lake, up in Incline Village/Crystal City, the casinos are even more run down. But it’s worth a trip to Cal-Neva, to stand in the (very shabby) banquet room that is split down the middle by the state border. The line is painted gold on the California side, silver on the Nevada side.

Head east on U.S. 50 and you’ll see the huge, huge swaths of the state have absolutely nothing to offer. No people. No beautiful scenery to speak of. No agriculture. That’s why U.S. 50 is the loneliest road, and why the whole region seems like such a good place to bury nuclear waste. South of town, you’ll find more of the same. Going home, we flew from Reno to Las Vegas. Up in the air for only a few minutes and you’re over Carson. Then… nothing. An hour later, over some mountains, Vegas seems like Oz. From 20,000 feet, you can see it a good 10 minutes before flight attendants begin their final pickup of cups and magazines. It fascinates me, landing in Las Vegas or Phoenix. The borders between residential areas and desert are so abrupt. It reminds me that the desert isn’t fit for human habitation.

And for me, a little Vegas goes a long way. Two days and nights there is plenty, and I can’t imagine going there more than once every 10-15 years. It’s fun to see the differences between the various casinos on the strip, but it doesn’t take long before they all run together. For variety, I highly recommend a day trip to Hoover Dam. I was utterly surprised by how fascinating it is; and it’s a real tribute to American ingenuity.

Iowa (Des Moines)

When it comes to undiluted American wholesomeness, I’d argue that no state has it more than Iowa. Sure, the place has its crime, its pockets of teen pregnancy and meth usage, its unemployment and shiftlessless; as well as other ills. But a lot of it is filled with the charming, appealing aspects of rural living.

Iowa State Capitol

Case in point: drive through tiny West Branch, Iowa… home to the wonderful Herbert Hoover Presidential Library & Museum on a sleepy summer afternoon. When we did, we found kids on bikes, lemonade stands, red-white-and-blue bunting hanging from the lampposts. I’m glad there still are places in America like that. Nearby you’ll find Iowa City and the University of Iowa; and although we didn’t spend any time there, all indications are that it’s a vibrant environment.

The Midwest is such a misunderstood region. First of all, it’s so large that it really needs to be broken down into smaller parts. A wide swath of it, starting in parts of Ohio and extending through parts of Wisconsin, are more accurately described as the Great Lakes region. The middle sections of Ohio, Indiana and Illinois are the Midwest, but their southern ends are kinda, sorta, well… Southern. Same for Missouri. Once you get into Kansas and Nebraska, you’re really in the Great Plains. North of that is the Upper Midwest, with an accent and culture that is unto its own. I would argue that only Iowa is 100 percent Midwest. And to some East and West Coasters, that is a source of mockery.

It’s too bad, because Iowa is a place for educated, critical thinkers. It’s an agricultural state, to be sure, but it has more of a feel of prosperity than many other rural places. And when it comes to politically savvy citizens, only New Hampshire can give Iowa a run for its money. The Iowa Caucus system is quite complicated; even after we saw an exhibit on it, the details still did not sink in. So shame on those who think of it as tacky and unsophisticated.

That is, unless those people are visiting the Iowa State Fair in Des Moines. I was so looking forward to it, because I had this impression (and I’m only half joking, here) of fair-haired women in gingham skirts and sturdy, All-American men in overalls, walking down the fairway with an ice cream cone in one hand and an American flag in another. Instead it was tramp stamps, black concert T-shirts, cigarettes and profanity. As we left the fairgrounds around 9:15 pm (it closed at 10), we passed more than one mother-of-the-year pushing her kids in a stroller on her way INTO the place. Yikes. But there was a butter cow sculpture, lots of odes to corn, and pigs. All was not lost.

I think Des Moines is pretty cool. I’d describe it as a scaled-down Omaha combined with a dash or two of Minneapolis-St. Paul. We had lunch at a district just west of the capitol grounds, and it was very nice. The capitol itself has lots of ornamentation, including inside the incredible law library, but all the stuff going on does not interfere with its charms.

Washington (Olympia)

Check out a topographic map of the state of Washington. You’ll see the Cascade Mountains, located not even 50 miles east of Seattle, rising up from top to bottom. The Cascades split the state into two, not juat geographically but politically and culturally.

Washington State Legislative Building

Western Washington, specifically Seattle, seems to get all the love. Mention Seattle and some things immediately come to mind: its coffee, its rain, its 90s-era grunge music, its technology, its aircraft, its Space Needle. Seattle has that strong sense of self that I love to find in places. It’s surrounded by sparkling water, ringed by beautiful mountains, and full of tall, so-deep-green-they’re-almost-black, wonderfully fragrant evergreen trees. When you’re there, by all means, stop in at the original Starbucks, located steps away from where they fling salmon at Pike Place Market. Head up to Kerry Park, located in the Queen Anne neighborhood. There you’ll see the famous “Frasier” view, with the Needle in front and downtown behind it. Take a hike up to Capitol Hill, a place that encapsulates the grunge-y, caffeine-addled counterculture. And by all means, take a trip up to the Needle, especially if it’s a clear day. Those are the days when locals say that the “mountain is out.” That mountain is, by the way, Mount Rainier–and it’s spectacular. You’ll see the houseboats and seaplanes on Lake Union, just off to the east; the University of Washington (which everyone, and I mean everyone, refers to as UDub) right above that; Lake Washington just a bit in the distance, which separates the city of Seattle from the Eastside; and the Eastside itself, specifically Bellevue, Kirkland and Redmond. Each of those suburbs has its own personality. In Redmond, you’ll find Microsoft, Microsoft and more Microsoft. It’s kind of a techie place. Kirkland, especially the part right on Lake Washington, has almost a Southern California feel. And despite its proximity to the heretics, anarchists and iconoclasts of Seattle, Bellevue is a place of high fashion, fancy shopping and conspicuous consumption. All this adds up to a cultural capital, a metropolitan area that has a megaphone in state and regional politics. In fact, there’s an adage applied to people running for statewide offices: they can see all the votes they need from the top of the Space Needle.

Like Fort Worth is to Dallas, or St. Paul is to Minneapolis, Tacoma is the smaller, more humble, always-in-second-place city to Seattle. It’s really not a bad place; we spent some time along an appealing stretch of Pacific Avenue, near the University of Washington’s Tacoma campus, where there are brewpubs and other restaurants. There you’ll also find the Washington State History Museum. What it’s doing in Tacoma, I don’t know, but it’s relatively new and pretty well done.

South of Tacoma is Olympia, and you can see the state capitol dome from I-5. Oh, sorry, they don’t call it the capitol. For some reason, they refer to the capitol complex, as if each of the many buildings contained in it is of equal importance. Who are they kidding? The centerpiece is obviously the building with the dome. Here they call it the Washington State Legislative Building, but it looks like and acts like the capitol. I like the inside of it very much, especially the heavily veined marble that looks like very blue bleu cheese. The dark marble really sets off the gold lighting fixtures, particularly the magnificent chandelier. I’m always happy to see a state flag that isn’t a blue rectangle; and Washington’s green banner, hung from several walls of the rotunda, really pops. Fun fact: during the 2001 Nisqually earthquake, the dome rolled on its dome like a quarter rolls on a tabletop. Yikes! Here’s what I don’t like about the building: it is so hemmed in between other buildings that it’s difficult to step back and get a really good view of it, unless you’re on Capitol Lake. Many other states do a better job of showcasing their capitols, with grand lawns and the like.

Beyond those sites, it’s worth a trip to the Olympic National Park, to Mount Rainier National Park, and through the San Juan Islands. Don’t bother spending much time on the coast; coastal towns feel run-down.

Eastern Washington couldn’t be more different; it’s a lot like Nebraska. It’s flat, hot, sparsely populated and conservative. It’s pizzazz level is on par with Nebraska, too; I can’t think of anything I’d recommend in terms of sights. But according to the State Museum, the fertile Yakima Valley is where they grow all them apples.

Illinois (Springfield)

Illinois has me stumped. Virtually every mention of the state starts with Chicago, a wonderfully vibrant, sophisticated world-class city. Though I lived in New York for years and think of it as my home, I will admit that Chicago has the assets of New York without its many disadvantages. I love how Chicago has everything to appeal to any city slicker, but it also has a big dose of midwestern common sense. Then there’s Chicagoland, a massive three-quarter ring around the city that quite possibly incorporates every ethnicity, socioeconomic status, personality trait and political philosophy known to humankind. Whenever I’m back there, I often underestimate how long it takes to get from point to point, since heavy traffic and sheer geographic size combine forces to provide an experience that calls for lots of patience. Then there’s… well, then there’s Illinois.

Illinois State Capitol

I have to say, I really dislike the rest of Illinois. Once, I spent a night in Rockford. I found it to be depressed, depressing, Midwestern-bland and surprisingly rural. Champaign-Urbana would be all of those things, too; but the University of Illinois keeps it a bit more lively, in a Big State U kind of way.

I’m still making my mind up about Springfield. It, too, feels like many other places in the United States that are rural/sad, as opposed to rural/charming… but with one distinctive saving grace. In many of my narratives about states and their capital cities, I have mentioned that the smallish capitals really benefit from being the center of state government, and without that distinction, they would be nothing more than dots on a map. In Springfield’s case, it’s all about a certain well-known president whose term was long ago but whose impact on the evolution of our country remains strong.

The Illinois State Capitol is unappealing, and our experience was made worse with a disinterested tour guide who hustled our earnest group through not long ago. The building is quite large, but it sits on a postage stamp, surrounded by parking lots and ugly buildings. I was so bored by the Illinois State Museum, located within walking distance of the capitol. Geology buffs may find it interesting… the museum devotes room after room to that kind of stuff. But for those of us who want to learn more about Illinois’ rich culture; and the things that set it apart from other states, there isn’t much to see. That’s OK, though, because I recommend spending lots more time at the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum and its attendant historical sites.

If you think our public discourse is fractured today, a trip to the museum will prove that what we experience today is nothing compared to what the country was like in Lincoln’s day. It’s a fascinating study, and to the museum’s credit, they do not sugar-coat the man or his legacy. I think it’s one of those sites that every American should see, if possible.

Beyond that, though, I don’t have much else to recommend about Illinois. Spend lots of time in Chicago, then take Amtrak to Springfield for an overnight.

Idaho (Boise)

Tucked, as it is, in the upper left quadrant of the country, it is reasonable to categorize Idaho as the Northwest. Practically all references to this spectacularly beautiful region define it as being composed of three states (although some people try to sneak in Alaska, too.) But right after I stepped off the plane in Boise and did not detect that exquisite pine-tree scent that you get in Seattle or Portland, I knew something was different. No, this is not the lush, green-and-sparkling-blue Pacific Northwest, where lefties guzzle coffee in the misty rain. Instead, this is the more brown-in-topography, red-in-politics Mountain West.

Idaho State Capitol

Idaho is more kindred spirits with Utah (with a healthy dose of Montana) than it is with Washington and Oregon. Not only does Idaho have the second-largest Mormon population in the United States, with you-know-who coming in first; but Idaho and Utah also seem to duke it out as to which is the most conservative state in the land.

Years ago I drove through southern Idaho from end to end. I never spent the night… I barely even stopped for gas. It was hardly the way to experience the state, so when I returned last year, I was determined to pay more attention and eager to dig deeper. We drove up the eastern part of the state on our way from Salt Lake City to Helena; and stopped in Idaho Falls for the night. It’s a pleasant-enough little town along the Snake River with hotels and restaurants (like the surprisingly good SnakeBite) that cater to tourists on their way to the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone, located 100 or so miles away. But as a destination unto its own, I’m doubtful that it’s terribly popular. And when it came right down to it, I can’t say I got a much better sense of the state or its people.

So this year, I made yet another return trip, to the other side of the state and Boise. Though it wasn’t a Pacific Northwest smell, I did discern something earthy and clean when I exited the airport. Maybe it was because everything I saw in Boise seemed new and clean, from the airport itself to  its compact, pedestrian-friendly downtown full of sidewalk cafes, shopping and entertainment venues. Boise is smaller than Salt Lake City, but it has a similar vibe, full of health-conscious, rock climbing and mountain bike-riding types. The capitol building was recently renovated, and they did a terrific job. I particularly liked the state history exhibits on the lower level. The Idaho State Historical Museum, located just south of downtown buildings in beautiful Julia Davis Park, is interesting enough. I’ve seen better, and I’ve seen worse.

I’d definitely return to Boise, and when I do, I’ll use it as a starting point to head north in the state, where the beauty of the Northwest really takes shape.

Texas (Austin)

All the characteristics that foreigners ascribe to Americans — brash, at times tacky, arrogant, larger than life — are the same ones that Americans ascribe to Texans. Does this mean that Texas is the epitome of America? I’m not sure, but what I do know is that in Texas, it’s all about the Lone Star. At the terrific Bob Bullock Texas State History Museum in Austin, there’s an exhibit about the identity of the Lone Star, and how its story is inextricably linked to the spirit of Texas. No matter where you go in this massive state—a place with an incredibly diverse populace and regional differences that may just be unmatched by any of the other 49—the common thread is a fierce independence. Many outsiders view this as obnoxious… and Texans absolutely do not care. As common as the state’s distinctive lone star flag, which flies absolutely everywhere, is a sentiment encapsulated in a bumper sticker I saw on a red pickup truck in the parking lot of the state capitol. Referencing President Obama’s 2008 campaign, it read, “I’ll keep my freedom, my guns and my money. You can keep your ‘change.’”

Texas State Capitol

This arrogant, my-way-or-the-highway attitude is anathema to me. Yet I do love Texas, in spite of myself. I’d never want to live there, but I appreciate it for what it is. I’ve visited there a half-dozen times, and I’ve never been bored. One of these days, I’d like to spend a week or two driving from one end to another, to experience first-hand its differences… in topography, language, cuisine. For now, though, I can report on my visits to three of its major cities, and a few of the towns in between.

It’s a dated, well-worn stereotype, but if there’s a place that most embraces the pretentious, moneyed Texan of Dallas (the TV show) fame, I suppose it’s, well, Dallas. I didn’t like it the first time I visited, but the place has kind of grown on me. Before I had actually been there, I envisioned kind of an Atlanta West. Unfortunately, it’s not nearly as pretty. No, Dallas is more brown and less green. You’ll get a little of that dusty Western feel, but to really find that kind of spirit in greater concentration, you need to travel 30 miles due west, practically in a straight line, to Fort Worth. The northern edges of Dallas, by the Tollway at I-635 (the LBJ), showcase the high-rise architectural styles of the ’80s and ’90s. If you’re up that way to go to the Galleria, don’t miss the Mary Kay Museum in suburban Addison. I found it to be a hoot, and a uniquely Texas experience. Head south from there, and you’ll reach tony Highland Park, the Beverly Hills of Texas, and Southern Methodist University. But the part of town I really like is Oak Lawn, at Lemmon and McKinney, and the West Village complex. There you’ll find shopping and restaurants, including the quite good Taco Diner. My impression of downtown Dallas is that it is deserted; at least it was on a warm Saturday afternoon in February. There isn’t much of a reason for a tourist to go there except, of course, to see the fascinating Sixth Floor Museum at Dealey Plaza. Dallas has plenty of other museums and other cultural attractions. When you add in its shopping, restaurants and sporting events, the Metroplex, as the call the entire region, is a worthwhile destination for people who live hundreds of miles away, and beyond.

Then there’s Houston… enormous, eccentric Houston. More of a southern city than a western one, Houston became the largest city in Texas by swallowing up unincorporated areas left and right. Even when you’re 20-30 miles outside of downtown, in any direction, chances are you’re still in Houston proper. And talk about “Don’t Mess with Texas,” the government has seen fit to stay hands-off when it comes to zoning laws. There simply do not appear to be any. Just drive Westheimer Road (aka FM 1093) from where it begins at Bagby to the Galleria at I-610 (aka the Loop). There you’ll find taco stands next to mansions next to gas stations next to skyscrapers. I just don’t understand why, in a city and state that seems to have more land than sense, this particular area is so dense, so tight. Here in particular, the buildings are so close to the road and the traffic pattern is so choked. Speaking of choked traffic, Houston’s freeways are legendary. It’s more like driving in Los Angeles than any other U.S. city besides, maybe, Atlanta. I have to say, too, that navigating the frontage roads that line the highways here and in Dallas take some getting used to. When it comes to comparing both cities, I guess my vote is for Dallas, though Houston also has the shopping, the cultural attractions and the restaurants to keep any tourist busy.

Actually, when it comes to identifying Texas’ most appealing city, there really is no contest… Austin is magnificent. It has that winning combination of being the home to the campus of the big state university as well as being the state capital. And it has taken advantage of those assets. Unlike Madison, which has an entertainment district that skews more toward college students than I liked, Austin is large enough for all tastes. It’s a cheerful, upbeat place… economically prosperous, with a high-tech feel. And centered in Texas hill country, it’s also very pretty. I love the Texas State Capitol. It has a dome that makes a statement, a beautiful tan/pink facade and lovely grounds. The aforementioned Bullock State Museum is within walking distance. It’s brand new and huge (of course). I wish that it would have focused more on the significance of Texas from WWII to today, but it is definitely an enjoyable place to spend a few hours. Don’t miss the Lyndon Baines Johnson Library and Museum, just up the road and adjacent to the University of Texas campus. It’s a very well done tribute to one of the most fascinating characters to occupy the White House in the past 100 years; and a terrific documentation of a turbulent and incredible time in our history. In Austin, Tex-Mex and Texas BBQ restaurants abound and are worth a try. But to get true Texas BBQ, head 60 miles or so south to Lockhart, the spiritual home of the cuisine.

I have yet to visit San Antonio or El Paso, although I intend to see both cities upon return trips to Texas. That’s because Texas is one of the few states that you can visit again and again, and always encounter something interesting and new.

New Hampshire (Concord)

They don’t call New Hampshire the Granite State for nothing. Sure, they say the nickname came from New Hampshire’s cold, hard, tough rock… are they sure it wasn’t because of New Hampshire’s cold, hard, tough people? These Yankees, with their brusque, all-business bearing, are the opposite of honey-dripped Southerners. In fact, New Hampshire seems to be the anti- lots of things: like Iowans, the people of New Hampshire are unimpressed by the highfalutin’ politicians who come knocking on their door every four years, often during January’s coldest days. But unlike Iowa, New Hampshire is stripped bare of folksy, agrarian-based activities, like apple pie-baking contests or butter sculptures, to which all of these politicians must be subjected. New Hampshire even sets itself apart from nearby places. Whereas Vermont next door is full of a bunch of earthy-crunchy peaceniks, New Hampshire is home to a particular breed of New England conservatism that extolls the virtues of limited government. They don’t put “Live Free or Die” on the license plates for nothing.

New Hampshire State House

Sure, the state has its charms. Portsmouth is a picturesque community with a nautical feel… rare for New Hampshire, where very little of the state buys into New England’s seaside themes (probably because very little of the state actually IS a seaside). Lake Winnipesaukee is well-known, at least among us New Englanders, as a popular summer destination. And while no one would describe the rugged White Mountains as charming—after all,  they are where some of the fiercest winds and coldest temps have ever been recorded—the region is beautiful. Still, I find most of this state to put forth a no-nonsense, keep-your-nose-to-the-grindstone kind of sensibility.

I guess it’s for that reason that its capital city, Concord, is not one of my favorites. I mean, it’s OK… the two times I have been there haven’t been terrible experiences… but I just don’t find it to be all that appealing. Its very small downtown is tidy enough, but besides the State House and the New Hampshire Historical Society Museum, there isn’t all that much to see. I take that back; there is the McAuliffe-Shepard Discovery Center, an air and space museum named after astronauts and native New Hampshire residents Christa McAuliffe and Alan Shepard. I didn’t go there, because it’s not my thing, but if it is your thing, I’ll bet it’s a cool place to visit.

The State House is very old… a stone tablet there will tell you that it’s the nation’s oldest state house in which the legislature still occupies its original chambers. Yes, but the Maryland State House is considerably older, and while its legislature meets in a new part of the building, I think the Maryland building’s overall legacy is a bit more noteworthy. That’s not to say I don’t appreciate the historical significance of New Hampshire’s capitol; it’s an interesting and well-maintained place. I particularly appreciated the fact that, for such a small state, it has the largest house of representatives (in terms of members) of any state in the country. I also liked the gift shop, mostly for the photographs of all the politicians who have come to pay their respects during campaign season. The Historical Society Museum, within walking distance of the state house, is worth a visit.

Don’t bother dining downtown. The restaurant at the Centennial Hotel, located a few miles away, is a better choice.

Montana (Helena)

Quick! Name the largest state (by area, not by population). Alaska! (Piece of cake.) The next two are pretty easy, too, although I confess I sometimes transpose them: 2) Texas; and 3) California. Number Four, however, keeps a much lower profile than the first three. It’s kind of a shame, because Montana (Big Sky Country, Land of Wide-Open Spaces, The Treasure State) is full of surprises.

Montana State Capitol

We only caught a glimpse of this huge state. Driving north from Idaho, we got the sense that we were entering it right at the point where the Great Plains begins to get acquainted with the mountains. Along I-15 from the border to Butte, the terrain takes some twists and turns. In some spots, it’s the midwest. In others, it’s all mountains. There are evergreen stretches with babbling brooks that seem like the Pacific Northwest. Other parts feel a bit desert-like. Every bit of it is beautiful.

I confess that we didn’t develop an appreciation for Butte’s charms. It was lunchtime, we were hungry and in no mood to linger on the scenic route. I saw several references to it being America’s Largest National Historic Landmark District, which is impressive. No doubt it’s pretty, up there in the mountains, and its copper mining history gives it a hardscrabble feel. But we were in a hurry to get to Helena.

Known back in the gold mining days as Last Chance Gulch, Helena is now the Queen City of the Rockies. It’s a very pretty and appealing little western town. We knew it would not be the most sumptuous stop on our week-long trek; and it was not. But as long as you’re content with Hampton Inn accommodations and brew-pub dining (in fact, I believe there are nicer and more interesting restaurants… we just didn’t take advantage of them), you’ll be fine.

If you approach the Montana State Capitol from the north, there’s a point at which the dome is perfectly set against the mountains. In the setting sun, it was breathtaking. The building is perfectly suited for the state’s western roots. The copper dome is quite unique. Once inside, while standing in the middle and looking up, I noticed that the proportions of the dome aren’t as high as in some other capitols. The building is pretty but not too fancy. We really loved it, especially because of Jane, who was just about the best capitol docent I’ve ever had. There’s a Charles M. Russell painting in the House chambers of Lewis & Clark’s expedition through Montana that’s pretty spectacular. You can see more of Russell’s work at Montana’s Museum next door. I give the museum a solid “C.” Other western states do it better, like Wyoming and South Dakota.

I asked Jane, a native Montanan, about the state’s other cities and how they differ from each other. She told me that in Billings, people view Missoula residents as damn Commies. In Missoula, people view Billings residents as rabid right-wingers. I’m looking forward to a return trip to Montana so I can see for myself.

In the meantime, I have memories of our trek from Helena down to West Yellowstone. The Madison Valley, as the region is known, is such a refreshing combination of mountains, trees and water. The town of Ennis, charming as all hell, is the fly-fishing capital of the universe. I am one with the city and not so much the “country,” but boy, I get its (and for that matter, Montana’s) appeal.

Maryland (Annapolis)

An old line used by Maryland’s travel bureau trumpeted the state as “America in Miniature.” It’s a slogan the purports that idea that Maryland encompasses all of America’s geographic and cultural diversity, only in a much smaller package. I don’t buy it. What is accurate, though, is that for a relatively compact state, Maryland has more than its share of disparate regions.

Maryland State House

For example, rural western Maryland might as well be part of West Virginia. Its identity, its topography and its major industry, coal mining, seem much more at home in the Mountain State. It even nearly gets pinched off from the rest of the state, in a region in which one can travel through four states (PA, MD, WV and VA) in under a half-hour. Whereas Western Maryland evokes the Appalachian South, Maryland’s Eastern Shore is like the Tidewater South (with a little bit of tacky Jersey Shore mixed in).

Baltimore is in between. I have to say that, in disagreement with the punchline that it sometimes is, I really appreciated the rowhouses and ethnic neighborhoods of this working-class city. Like Philly, or Brooklyn or Boston, the cultural makeup can change in as little time as it takes to cross the street. Crime is high here, but the touristy areas like the Inner Harbor are fine. I enjoyed a delicious—and pricey—crabcake sandwich at Miss Shirley’s. One of the best in Bawlmer, Hon!

Greater D.C. shapes Maryland, too; and vice versa. Maybe because so many of D.C.’s more exclusive suburbs are over on the Maryland side, this region can give greater Baltimore an unwarranted inferiority complex.

A little more than a half-hour away from either of those places is Annapolis… hands down, one of the top two or three most beautiful capital cities in the U.S. This home to both the state government and the U.S. Naval Academy is moneyed and utterly full of maritime charm. The state house is very pretty… it was once used as the U.S. Capitol, and no other capitol has had its legislature reside in it longer. Tours are restricted to one floor, which is unusual and a bit disappointing. But there are lots of fun facts to make up for it: the mortar between the bricks was made from ground-up oyster shells! That wooden dome, the largest such in the U.S., contains not one nail! Be sure to allow lots of time to meander the streets, walk into the shops and dine along the water or at one of the many great restaurants along Main Street.