#10. Don Your Lederhosen in Jasper

I had many surprising experiences in Jasper, a city of about 15,000 in southern Indiana. I climbed a 235 foot belltower, saw the weirdest magic show of my life, slow danced to the voices of multiple retirees, attended a polka mass and ate delicious Hispanic food in the middle of a German festival.

Strassenfest, Jasper's 34th annual four day German festival, brought me to the small town. As soon as I drove within the city limits, I knew this was a big deal for the area. Dozens of homes and businesses were decorated with German flags and several city blocks were roped off for the occassion. The remainder of the town seemed very quiet; it was as though all activity outside of Strassenfest was temporarily put on hold to enjoy the communal festivities.

Strassenfest decorations in front of Jasper's Courthouse

And rightfully so. The event lineup was impressive, lasting from 8 a.m. to 11:30 p.m. and ranging from a Nutcracker Suite ballet performance to polka and chicken dance contests in the Bier Garten. Thousands of festival-goers enjoyed carnival rides, complimentary caricatures and outdoor music performances in the town square.

 The festival had many non-German elements, but I decided to start my Strassenfest with a tour of St. Joseph Catholic Church. The Church's founder, Fr. Joseph Kundek, was instrumental in building Jasper's German heritage. In the 1830s, Fr. Kundek placed ads for Jasper in newspapers around Europe and in cities like Cincinnati with strong German communities, according to an article by the Indianapolis Star. Soon after, immigrants from the German regions of Baden and Bavaria flocked to the town.

St. Joseph Catholic Church

St. Joseph is not only integral to the heritage of Jasper, but also to its architecture. The church is stunning, with green vaulted ceilings, jewel-colored stained glass and soaring pillars. The exterior is beautiful, but the interior is literally awe inspiring.

Volunteers led tours into the bell tower through a series of wooden staircases and ladders.

On the way to the top, I climbed past ringing bells and clock faces until reaching a room with windows offering a nearly 365-degree view of Jasper and the surrounding Dubois County.

View from belltower

In addition to the bell tower tour, I attended a polka mass at the church. I attended Catholic schools for 13 years and my family goes to Mass every week, so I am very familiar (and oftentimes bored) with the music played; I was interested to see what a polka mass could offer-- unfortunately, not much. Several polka songs were played but even this could not make mass entertaining. I know this isn't the purpose of mass, but a part of me was still hoping for more.

The mass may have been somewhat disappointing, but the food was not. For lunch, I had weinerschnitzel (breaded veal tenderloin sandwich) and sampled my boyfriend's mini bratzel (bratwurst on a pretzel bun topped with sauerkraut and mustard) served with German potato salad. Both were hearty and unhealthy and tasty, making them perfect fair food.

bratzel with German potato salad

Weirdly, the best food I had at Strassenfest was Hispanic. Pupusas (corn tortillas filled with cheese, beans and pork) and chicken tacos were washed down with horchata (sweet, cold drink made of rice, milk, vanilla and cinnamon) and made for one of my favorite meals in recent memory.

pupusa

horchata

Music was plentiful, as well. Three stages hosted continual rotations of performers singing German folk music, beloved oldies and punky girl rock. The Talentspiel (Talent Show) was especially popular and provided both hits and misses. The winners were a tap dancing duo, but the most memorably strange entrant was the magician.

Tap dancing winners

A man in his early 20s dressed in dark clothing came on stage to creepy music commonly heard in janky carnival horror rides. Without speaking, he grabbed a tablecloth and lifted the cloth and table into the air and hoisted it around. Still silent, he set down the table and grabbed something metal from the table. He then ate some of the metal and looked expectantly at  the crowd. The crowd, unsure of what was happening due to the lack of narrative, sat silent. He then took the metal object out of his mouth and ate another metal object and repeated his previous expectant look. Still, the audience sat silent. This was his act. The music stopped and he walked offstage to scattered, confused applause.

floating table

In spite of this bizarre act, the Talentspiel went on to recover its upbeat nature. But I have to give the magician credit for being bold enough to enter his very out-of-place act into a traditional town talent show.

The unexpected finds at Strassenfest, like the dark and confusing magic act in the midst of a lighthearted talent show and killer Hispanic food amongst German stands, are what I will remember most about my visit. Who knows, maybe naechstes jahr I will find myself there once again.

#30. Visit Lincoln's Boyhood Home

Three Midwest states lay claim to former President Abraham Lincoln: Kentucky, Illinois and Indiana. He was born in Kentucky and is buried in Illinois, but he came of age in Indiana. From 1816 to 1830, Lincoln grew from a seven-year-old youth to a 21 year-old man on his father's 80+ acre farm in southern Indiana.

Rendering of Lincoln at the Boyhood National Memorial

According to the Lincoln Boyhood National Memorial website, "[Lincoln's] sense of honesty, his belief in the importance of education and learning, his respect for hard work, his compassion for his fellow man, and his moral convictions about right and wrong were all born of this place and this time."

While I find this statement somewhat presumptuous and boastful, it is undeniable that Lincoln's 14 years in Indiana helped shape his character and personality. If Indiana wants to claim this as a direct reflection on its humble and honest values, I think it's a stretch...but whatever is necessary to boost tourism.

The Lincoln Boyhood National Memorial is obviously meant for tourists, but it's much more off the beaten path than most tourism spots. To find the memorial, I had to drive down a deserted country road with no signs advertising the Memorial.

For a while, I thought my GPS was taking to an incorrect address; but alas, just when my faith in Garmin was faltering, I came upon the Memorial entrance.

I began my tour at the Visitor's Center but decided to skip the ubiquitous short informational film and brochures detailing the minutia of Lincoln's life. I did not dismiss it because I wanted to (I'm a sucker for useless historical facts and lame museum displays) but because there was an entrance fee and I was feeling cheap.

From there I wandered to the Cabin Memorial Site. There is a bronze casting of what is believed to be the site of the Lincoln's third log cabin. In 1917 this site was located and marked, but it wasn't until 1936 that the State of Indiana excavated the area and found sill logs and a stone hearth. (This is further proof of my love for useless historical facts.)

Even if this wasn't the site of the actual cabin Lincoln lived in, it was crazy to see how small the foundation was. It was probably smaller than my bedroom; seeing the change between life two centuries ago and now is startling.

In addition to the supposed homesite is the burial place of Lincoln's mother Nancy Hanks Lincoln. She died in 1818 of milk sickness, a then-mysterious poisening by milk from cows who have eaten white snakeroot, a shade-loving plant found in Indiana. The disease was known as "puking fever" and "the trembles."

Thank God I was not a pioneer.

While the gravesite made me glad to live in the modern age, the Lincoln Living Historical Farm was quaintly nostalgic. The farm is a pioneer homestead complete with livestock, a cabin, outhouses, gardens and man with handlebar mustache and wire-rimmed glasses. This man, a park ranger who seemed to wish it was 1812 isntead of 2012, pointed out four luxurious updates to the Lincoln cabin that were uncharacteristic of log cabins of that time:

• glass windows 
• whitewashed walls
• wood floors  
• swinging doors

Even in rural Indiana, Abraham Lincoln was ahead of his time.

#13. Take a turn in the Indiana Roof Ballroom

I always wondered where Arthur Murray dance classes were applicable. After attending the Indiana Roof Ballroom's Big Band Swing night, I now know those skills are useful in settings beyond dance studios and wedding reception halls.

Approximately 300 people attended the dance, and I would venture to say that 284 of them had enrolled in at least one of Mr. Murray's classes at some point in their life. The 8,700 square foot dance floor was a vortex of well-dressed couples spinning with complex footwork and impeccable posture. Everyone was in such unison that it seemed as though everyone had secretly gathered beforehand and mastered a complex choreography. That is, everyone but me and my date.

The skilled dancers at the Indiana Roof Ballroom dance floor

Conspiracy theory aside, I really was unprepared for entering the dance floor. Although I learned the waltz box step in high school gym and a few basic swing dance moves from attending swing dance nights at Fountain Square Theatre, my ballroom dancing skills are very limited. Knowing we would never survive amongst such pros, my boyfriend and I darted through the swirling Fred and Ginger wannabes and took refuge in the center of the dance floor.

But even the eye of the hurricane was not safe. Although we were obviously confined in the same space, alternating between swaying and our limited dance moves, other couples seemed to not see us; it was as though our inferior dance skills made us invisible. We narrowly avoided at least a dozen collisions. I should add that in addition to being the worst dancers in the place, we stuck out even more because we were basically the only people there under 60.

Although this could have been a recipe for disaster, it made the experience much more memorable. We spent most of the night laughing at ourselves. We may have been the worst dancers there, but I would argue that we had the most fun. Although other dancers had impressive skill, most were very stiff and going through the motions. I would take two left feet and fun over joyless Dancing with the Stars abilities any day.

Being shown up on the dance floor wasn't so bad. The Indiana Roof Ballroom is beautiful, crafted to look like a Spanish villa at nighttime, complete with a ceiling painted to look like a night sky. The live band was passionate and the singer was fiery. It was fun to see old married couples out for a night on the town and gave me hope that being old and married maybe isn't as dull as I think it will be. And it was definitely the best date I've ever been on. Who knows, maybe I will be dropping by my local Arthur Murray dance studio soon.

#27. Hike the Knobstone Trail

Bugs, numerous thorns, daunting vertical ascents, thirst, sweat, shortness of breath and poor cellphone reception: these were the only things on my mind as I climbed the knobs of the Knobstone Trail, a 58-mile footpath in Southern Indiana. Although much of the trail is beautiful and peacefully isolated, the "knobs" can be miserable. Luckily I only encountered three of these miserable climbs during my five mile hike on the Delaney Park Loop.

Aside from the knobs, which are remnants of Indiana's glacial past, my two hour hike was overall enjoyable. I went with two of my best friends and we passed the time catching up on our last few weeks of freshman college and exaggeratedly complaining about the heat and bugs.

When we weren't chatting, we took in the complete silence. While on the Trail, we encountered no other people. Miles from civilization and technology, it was almost eery how quiet everything was. We were hypnotized by the tranquility until a giant bee or stinging nettle interrupted our Thoreau moment.

The Knobstone Trail was a cool experience and a great hike, but as much as I enjoy nature, I realize I can only take in small doses. It was a pleasant day trip, but I am definitely not hardy enough to hike all 58 miles. Kudos to those who are.

#32. Go Morel Hunting

Morel mushrooms are a big deal in Indiana. The smooth-stalked, spongey-topped mushrooms are treasured by their dedicated hunters for their meaty, nutty taste and rareness. Morels resist domestication, so even the most savvy of hunters can never guarantee coming across the mushrooms.

                                                  

                                                                            Morels

Morels hunters have a small window to find the mushrooms: from early April to early June. They are most often found near dead or dying hardwood trees, as the decaying root systems nourish the mushrooms. 

As if locating morels isn't hard enough, morel hunters are extremely guarded about their knowledge of good hunting spots. The secrecy and rarity of the morels have led them to be called "truffles for the middle class," an allusion to the highly coveted mushrooms that can cost up to $3,600/pound. 

Knowing that morels are difficult to find, especially for a novice such as myself, I opted to attend the sixth annual Morel Mushroom Festival at the Brown County State Park. This would give me a chance to hunt in the park, but would also ensure that I would leave with purchased morels in case my hunting was fruitless.

My prediction was correct: I found zero morels while hiking through the forests of Brown County. Admittedly, I wasn't looking too hard. My uncle warned my mom to beware of snakes, so my mom and I were too afraid to do much thorough examination in fear of disturbing a snake nest or similarly frightening forest-dweller.

Serious morel hunter

Although we did not find any morels, the hunt was enjoyable nonetheless. I had never hiked through Brown County State Park before, but it is just as beautiful as I had heard. The park consists of over 15,700 acres and is the largest state park in Indiana; this provides ample land for exploration and admiration. 

Brown County State Park woods

The only mushrooms found on our hunt

Lake Stahl

After our unsuccessful hunt, my mom and I joined the long line of morel enthusiasts and bought a half pound bag of the mushrooms for a whopping $25. Although this was considerably less than the $1800 a half pound of truffles would cost, it was still a pricey figure. The things I do for this blog...

In addition to a morel sale, the festival offered music by the aptly-named band Jack Morel and the Spores and a crafts tent.

Jack Morel & the Spores

                                            

                                                        Morel-topped walking sticks

There was also a seemingly-random but nonetheless-interesting birds of prey demonstration.

Members of the Indiana Raptor Society speak about local birds of prey

Patrick, an American Kestrel

 A couple of girls even dressed up as morel mushrooms. The fanaticism was even found in the youngest festival attendees.

Morel costumes

After returning from the festival, my mom soaked our purchases in saltwater upon the recommendation of my cousin-in-law who is apparently a pro morel hunter. This solution extracts any gross bugs or dirt that might be found in the hollow mushrooms. She then rinsed, dried and cut the morels in preparation for a breakfast of cheese-and-morel omelets.

I thought the morels were kind of gross in the omelet. They weren't very well cooked and tasted rubbery and bland. I was quite disappointed in them.

Until I fried them. Fried morels are the way to go. They are incredibly easy to make, too. Just coat the slices in flour and fry them in vegetable oil or butter. Before frying they feel and taste rubbery, similar to bad pasta. After frying, they become crispy and attain the fabled meaty, nutty taste morel hunters treasure so dearly.

Before frying

After frying

Before frying

After frying

Even though my hunting was unsuccessful and the morels were expensive, it was worthwhile. Maybe I will try to charm my family's seasoned morel hunters and persuade them to let me tag along on next spring's hunt.

#3. Triple XXX Root Beer

Water is my beverage of choice, but when I occassionally opt for soda, root beer is my favorite. Its creamy vanilla sweetness mixed with the slight tang of sassafrass root makes for a satisfying liquid dessert. Whether it can be attributed to the trademarked original Triple XXX recipe, frosty mug or overall ambience, the root beer served at West Lafayette's Triple XXX restaurant is especially tasty.

Triple XXX root beer

The restaurant, the oldest drive-in in Indiana, is immediately striking, a boldly ugly building painted with wide vertical stripes of black and orange. While the outside may be somewhat deterring, the interior is wholly charming. Customers sit clustered together at a counter on rotating stools. Waitresses chat with customers, chefs can be seen singing and cooking and clients soak up the hearty food and old-time diner atmosphere.

Street view of Triple XXX

In addition to a mug of root bear, I ordered the Duane Pervis burger, an otherwise ordinary cheeseburger slathered with a layer of creamy peanut butter. While I will probably never add peanut butter to a cheeseburger again, it was interesting to try. The layer of peanut butter added an unusual creamy sweetness to the burger that was neither gross nor delicious, but merely existant.

Duane Pervis burger
If you look really closely, you can see bits of peanut butter dripping underneath the burger

Although the burger and fries were good, the root beer was the star of the meal.

After visiting Triple XXX, I toured the surrounding area with my boyfriend, a native of West Lafayette. We walked the quaint streets of the town and visited the town courthouse, a used book store catering to sci-fi and gaming enthusiasts, an antique store and an old-fashioned soda shop.



Lafayette Courthouse

McCord's Candy Shop

We then shopped the commercial Levvy and more locally-focused Chauncey areas. As an IU student, I couldn't help comparing these areas to Bloomington's much cooler Kirkwood area (I admit my bias), but the district was still appealing nonetheless.

After touring the more urban parts of Lafayette and West Lafayette, we toured the Tippecanoe Battlefield. The 1811 Battle of Tippecanoe was important for a variety of reasons:

• It destroyed the Native American hope for the creation of a tribal confederacy
• It brought great success to William Henry Harrison and provided him with credibility that aided in his securing the presidential seat
• It heightened the discontent Americans felt for the British, who armed the Native Americans with British weapons
• This fueled the chasm that led to the War of 1812

Despite its significance, the battlefield was relatively small. Standing inside the fenced-in area that was once a battlefield was an eery feeling. Today, the area is a pretty landscape dotted with towering trees and an attractive commemorative monument, but it is difficult to shake the knowledge that it was once a bloody area where the Americans carried out great injustices against Native Americans.

Battle of Tippecanoe memorial/battleground

  Taking a break from contemplation of human iniquities, we toured the battleground's Nature Center and trails. We crossed the Wabash River, which was surging with brown water from recent heavy rainfall. I was pretty disappointed with the river, which I played up due to its sentimental reference in the state song "Back Home Again in Indiana."

Wabash River

We ended our tour of the area with a quick stop to Prophet's Rock, a unique geological form where the brother of Chief Tecumseh  once chanted and sang songs of prophecy and encouragement to Native American warriors heading to the Battle of Tippecanoe.

Prophet's Rock memorial

Prophet's Rock

Although I came to visit my boyfriend and taste Triple XXX root beer, it was nice to experience the other Indiana college town.