The Amish and The Mennonites who live in Pennsylvania try to live simple, uncomplicated lives.  Wish I could say the same for the thousands of tourists (including yours truly) who make the area a must-see destination every year.

My uncle Don and Aunt Betty live in New Holland, PA … a quiet little ‘burb near Lancaster.  My dad and I visited them and got a nickel tour of the rolling Pennsylvania bluff.  If you think Ruffles have ridges, you obviously haven’t been to this neck of the woods.

Within five minutes of our Saturday afternoon drive, we spotted a horse and buggy off in the distance.  The closer we got to town, the more buggies we’d veer around.  I, unfortunately, have a freakish, irrational fear of horses, so I was in the back seat of the car curled up in the in the fetal position for most of the trip.  I would occasionally glance out the window just to make sure we weren’t about to be stampeded.

Once you get in to town, there are ample parking lots.  Slots for cars on one side and covered stables on the other.  The town is equal opportunity.  Shopkeepers clearly know their patrons.   My Uncle Don has become quite the aficionado on the Pennsylvania Dutch.  He’d pepper in factoids as we were driving along.  At some point he mentioned how you can tell the Amish from the Mennonites by the color of buggy they drive.  I still don’t know which is which, because they’re all pulled by horses, which make me scream in terror.

Unbeknownst to me, the area is known for a delicacy called Sticky Buns.  It’s like a giant, mutant cinnamon roll that’s drizzled in caramel goo.  Some have pecans.  Others feature walnuts.  Most offer raisins.  The one I had easily weighed 2lbs.  I tried gnawing on it for a while, but eventually gave up and just unhinged my jaw and swallowed it whole.  It was truly decadent.  Problem is … you can’t eat just one.   And for a foodie like me, it was nirvana.  Sticky buns are sold at bakeries, from street vendors and at specialty Amish shoppes.

As I was traipsing around, I met a couple Amish folks … or maybe they were Mennonites.  They were a pleasant sort.  I think they were just thrilled that I didn’t treat them like some sort of space alien and sneak a quick picture.  I know they have a sense of humor too.  While in Intercourse, PA (yes, I know …), there was a homemade pretzel shop.  The sign out front said, “Hard or Soft … makes no difference in Intercourse.”  I laughed out loud.

If you ever get a chance to visit, do it.  Just be sure to wear your pants with the elastic waistband.  You’ll need it.