For those of you who cannot link your memory to Gatlinburg, it is an artistic (both fabricated and naturally built) city in the state of Tennessee. Gatlinburg swallows a broad bite of The Great Smoky Mountains, by virtue of which it is known. As one of the most commercialized cities in and around, it fails not to attract tourists like a flower attracting bees, in this Great Smokies National Park.
How would you like jaunting in a town of neat streets dyed by hundreds of bright tulips diluting your pupils with its allure, along with some Dutch folks whisking hither and yon with their traditional costumes on? If you thirst for the delicacy of cultures, beliefs and customs of certain clans and identify yourself as a hopeless lover of flowers like a poet from the 50s, Holland, during the Tulip Festival, is your terminus. Oh mind you, it is the beautiful small town, Holland of Michigan I’ll be talking of and not the one in Netherlands!
“Welcome to Detroit Metropolitan Airport, Detroit. The local time is 3:30 PM. The temperature is 23 degrees”. I was a maiden to the land that the plane I was on swooped me to. Needless to say, I was glad that the lack of buoyancy during the flight all the way from India was compensated by my promising foretaste of events for the summer . Two nights had dawned on me, befriending jetlag, before I could zip up and manoeuvre around the neighbouring cities.