I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together. queue the transcendent tunes. This is an account of our journey to the woods with no intent of floating there.
While the infamous music festival took place 50 miles east of this town, Woodstock spent the summer of love crawling with lovers, former fighters, and confused trippers looking for meaning. While we took a pass on the electric kool aid acid test this time, you can feel the need to explore the unknown in this town.
see what *local* we loved
Our House, in-the-middle-of....the woods
3 days, two nights of peace, love, & a hot tub. If you're planning on more than a day trip, call "Our Woodstock House" home (totally bookable on airbnb, y'all!).
With plenty of rooms for a group of 8 like ours, this home was perfect. Its the house you want to come back to in the winter to watch the snow fall from the living room windows; the house with the pool you want to dive in to and tiki bar you want to perfect your "just riding the waves" bartender impression at in the summer.
Unlucky for us, we couldn't live out those daydreams, not even Walter Mitty style. But as luck would have it, Fall had hit this town HARD and we got the best of both worlds--leaves of all different colors falling under the crisp breeze, and rays of sun just warm enough for a day hike in shorts.
Trees shedding their leaves faster than 19 y/o me shedding my top as soon as the sun peaks over the hills.
Mower's Flea Market - Farms, Furniture, & Other People's Trash
You can't always count on things to be what you need them to be without turning phony. This flea market--this town--is exactly what you need it to be without making you want to punch the tie-dye off some old hippy's shirt.
Placed between every genuine artist/farmer/woodworker/author was a local entrepreneur selling their junk; rare albums, antique toys, buddha statues. Even a retro clock missing the handle--what kind of phony would buy that piece of trash?! (me) (enjoying it on my desk rn, assholes).
The farmer himself--all produce locally grown here in upstate NY on his personal farm. Ain't he the cutest?
Owner/Woodworker selling his designs to the people. WILD designs in woodwork - locally sourced, Catskill made.
Woodstock Legends - No Food, No Drinks, Just 'Legends'
At peak anxiety this shop will spark a meltdown (must walk single file to see everything), but the possibility of finding unique memorabilia could be worth it. The convenient little stoop meant to hold your outside drink on the way in is deceptively welcoming--but the Belushi manikan giving potential customers the side eye will quickly dispel that feeling. Upon entry this place has a "you're not cool enough to be here" vibe that is much needed. We are the tourists, buying the merch, that over-values and also undermines the sanctity of this town and its history. We sit in the balance, which by all means is where everyone of the time wanted to meet; we'll meet you on the journey to the middle.
(surprisingly still not on drugs, even while writing this, in case you were wondering)
Yes, we left with a magnet, 2 shirts, a dress & some soft-core hippy porn. Labels be damned, tourists we shall be!
Garden Cafe (Vegan) - Yelp Verified, Carnivores Approved.
The first whiff of the modern day hipster hit us like a ton of bricks (or chia seeds in this case) at our lunch spot. All-white-everything, chalkboard specials, and beards-a-plenty, however the people saved this place (along with the food, thank Janis.)
It was hot, but the feels were all Fall. Even with the heat of the sun beaming down on us as we decided between hemp seed or hemp protein in our smoothies, one drink choice reflected the season--homemade hot sangria with cinnamon stick. Along with the tasty drinks, came a vegan burrito (black bean & rice), Mediterranean chick pea wrap, & red bean sweet potato rice burger. The lovely waitress took every substitution we asked for and even offered some tips on what to order. This small kindness (also known as doing the job) helped to prompt a full discussion on life in a small town as a young person (like she).
While the initial thought from any & all city-folk is that this must be a stop on the way from and to another place, she offered an experience to the contrary. Everyone is a rolling stone right? But in this town, we found the trees.
This was not a job for her; she cared about our experience from the food and ambiance to our overall well-being. (I promise, still not smoking, though not doing a good job of suppressing suspicion).
One pal in the group was visibly down-and-out but not the self-induced kind but rather in a mind-on-other-things-can't-control-outer-actions-because-of-it kind of way. While the rest of us chose to ignore it and gab about our usual non-sense over drinks, the waitress was persistent in asking if he was okay and if she could help in any way (mostly food related, but still a nice gesture). The waitress helped him figure out the perfect food order and brought extra condiments to him at no charge--prompting a small but meaningful smile.
Good food, great company, and even forgot there was no meat.
Valerie's Homemade Pies - A Little Too "Home-y" But Feeling Risky
The sign read "Pies" with a hand drawn arrow pointing the way to someones house, thus leading me to wonder why I wasn't living there. On our way back to the city, this was a must-explore. Who was this Valerie and how were her pies??
Walking up to the home gave way to thoughts of hippy retreats--Sleeping bags on an outdoor couch, wind chimes lining the porch, and a half-open screen door waiting for locals to roll in.
12 Deming St, Woodstock NY
Inside was an older man--Valerie's husband--who I called for from the door since he was out of sight. He came out from the back room, offering 3 or 4 pies on the stove, and I chose pumpkin given the season (though all looked great).
He didn't clarify if it was "special" or not, but again that Woodstock magic makes you a bit foggy regardless. He did offer some insight to the weekend goings-on, including a drum circle celebrating Fall. We had already witnessed some interpretive dance earlier in the day so took a pass on the circle to beat traffic (damn city folk and their "traffic").
It was all a bit too local, and in my head took a turn to a possible hostage situation when he kept trying to get us to stay longer by offering info on city happenings (or what's that movie where the whole town turns out to be in on something?) Also WHERE WAS VALERIE?! *paranoia phase setting in*
Anywhoo he was a nice old man and the pie was great. Highly recommend.
A Few Quick Ones, While We're Away
After checking out of our Woodstock Oasis, a small stroll through the town square (think 'Stars Hallow' meets Haight Ashbury) led us to a number of sweet spots for shopping and what not.
The Golden Notebook: An Actual "Women & Women First" book store - looking back at a time when the feminist movement was in its rebellious teenager phase--yes, in this society we fight centuries to be valued as humans despite literally being able to grow them inside us BUT LET'S NOT GET STARTED--books like these fit nicely within the year-round 'summer of love' narrative that defines Woodstock.
Rock City Vintage & Woodstock Music Shop - Biggest Regret: not buying the blue/green vintage Sgt Pepper jacket in this paradise filled with vintage treasures. Best Win--walking in to the local music shop to hear a customer playing blackbird while testing out an acoustic. Of course, to listeners dismay, I chimed in on vocals.
Bassists make the best of friends!
Woodstock Meats - The butcher has that mid-20th century male-figure thing going on where he's verbally super aggressive but also acts like he knows you super well (sounds like a great psych paper). While reeling in a mixed state of confusion & hunger, the meat counter offered up great cuts for grilling, and even some fruits & veg to pop on the grill--thus creating a sense of calm in my brain and belly. (again, let's dissect this encounter, yea?) Created a nice steak/pork chops/pineapple/bell peppers/ Cesar salad dinner. Yum.
Bread Alone - Same old story morning glory, same pastries you've seen at their other locations- but this is the ORIGINAL Y'ALL and really its the Dylan posters that saved it. The kind of decor that makes you feel an overwhelming "if only i could have been there!"
Dharmaware - Wouldn't be the 60s without stores selling far eastern goods that may or may not be authentic. HOWEVER my white ass couldn't tell. This calls for further research, but in the meantime enjoy the rugs and alpaca sweaters. ADDENDUM: my Thai friend who joined us on the trip can vouch for its authenticity. But again, he is quite American and was also high. Love you @goodhangbro.
Conclusion
Its not the questionable make of the pie or the faint smell of pot in our surroundings that helped us fly over the cukoo's nest but rather the knowledge that this place exists so close to the city hustle. Manhattan is a beast of large proportions, and some days, after a crowded subway ride or 3 block walk behind some resident slow walkers you just want to escape into the wild.
Would this trip have been more fun with shrooms, acid, molly, whatever? Maybe. Did we go completely sober? No. Alcohol was present and one traveler in our crew was high most of the time. Did we have more fun because of it? Who knows. The only thing we know is that good times were had. All in all, I've left you with a non-conclusion, conclusion, to this experiment; left you with muddy data that must be tossed out. Ain't that a shame?
God Bless America, y'all
Educate yourself!
Documentary: Woodstock 3 days of Peace & Music
Movies: Peace Love & Misunderstanding , Taking Woodstock
'Summer of Love'/Janis/Dylan Related (just because): Monterey Pop Festival , Janis: Little Blue Girl , I'm Not There
Follow-up Homework Question: Who smashed the guitar first--Jimi or Pete?
Would I go back? Yes. and I would make plans to visit Bethel because its a "just to say I went" kind of place that you are ok with saying "just to say I went" with.
Next Standby: Lady Bird, Governator, and...whatever else comes to mind when thinking 'Sacramento, CA.' Exploring the life and times of a house-buying, suburbs-living millennial.