The Gratz Park Inn

LEXINGTON, Kentucky - I stayed in the renovating, century-old Gratz Park Inn for four nights on my first-ever visit to Kentucky's horse capital. I liked it - with one exception, noted shortly. The place is pretty, graced with flowers outside, and a warm, clubby bar and lobby inside, with antique reproduction furniture in the guest rooms and an unbeatable location.

Indeed, the hotel's location, location, location is a prime reason for staying there. (To wit: 120 W. 2nd St., tel. 859.231.1777, www.gratzparkinn). You can walk to the lively bars and restaurants in downtown Lexington, and the lovely, historic Gratz Park neighborhood is right there.

Unlike most heritage hotels, the inn is well-soundproofed; I heard little street noise or sound between rooms. Moreover, my room had a large, really comfortable four-poster bed with a first-rate mattress, set high off the floor.

That said, this vintage hotel - a member of the Historic Hotels of America trade association -
inevitably shows signs of age. The double latch on the door to my room didn't work (though the secure chain did), and I found it difficult to strike a balance between cool and warm; I never did figure out how to turn off the fan and keep the constant flow of air off me, though that's mostly my fault, as I should have just asked for help. The hotel staff was unfailingly polite and helpful.

The Gratz Park Inn falls somewhere between a three-star and a four-star property: a 3.5 maybe. The rating could be higher if a few things were fixed - and they may be when the current renovation is finished.

The aforementioned flaw has to do not only with the physical plant but also with the food: Specifically, breakfast. Served in a low-ceilinged, windowless room in the basement, with a big-screen TV playing, the breakfast was uninspired and service slow. I found the coffee, served with non-dairy creamer, undrinkable. But then, I'm a coffee snob.

This is a puzzlement, as the hotel hosts a first-rate fine-dining establishment: Jonathan's at Gratz Park; it is open only for lunch and dinner. The chef, Jonathan Lundy, looks like a college kid, but be not deceived; he is accomplished. Lundy's food is full of flavor, robust and hearty, and the restaurant has a good wine list with a fine selection of California wines. A Kentuckian, Lundy likes to tweak and update traditional Kentucky fare. He put his best recipes into an obligatory celebrity chef cookbook: "Jonathan's Bluegrass Table: Redefining Kentucky Cuisine.''

So, the hotel isn't perfect. I didn't expect it to be, and I didn't find its flaws off-putting. Not even the resident ghost that reputedly haunts the premises. In any case, I didn't see any ghosts, just generally well-satisfied guests, in this enjoyable heritage hotel.

A Prince of a Fellow

LEXINGTON, Kentucky - Saudi Arabia is bankrolling most of a big new art and archeological exhibition about the long relationship between man and the horse - and to promote it, a Saudi prince came to this central Kentucky city to talk Arabian horses and Saudi soft power.

The thirtysomething royal, grandson of the country's founder, is head of the Saudi Arabian Equestrian Federation. Thus, Prince Nawaf Bin Faisal Bin Fahad Bin Abdul Aziz's interest in the exhibit, called "A Gift From the Desert,'' which opened at the Kentucky Horse Park's International Museum of the Horse (http://www.imh.org/) May 26 and runs through Oct. 15.

I interviewed the prince, with Reuters writer Verna Gates, at a downtown Lexington hotel the day of the opening. Prince Nawaf entered in full desert regalia, accompanied by an entourage of watchful Saudi men nattily dressed in Western-style business suits. Gates and I were right on time. The prince was not, arriving 40 minutes late in the mode perfected by U.S. politicians and Hollywood movie stars. Once on the scene, though, he was affable and available, speaking largely through an interpreter whose English was not as good as his; the prince studied at UCLA.

We, who had been touring Kentucky horse farms, were not neatly dressed for the interview, but it was a rather quick invitation, almost a summons. We decided to go, despite our casual look; it's not every day that you chat with a prince. Not wishing to provoke an international incident, we lobbed softball questions and the prince stepped up to the plate.

Saudi Arabia, run by the hundreds-strong Saud family, decided to put this splendid exhibition - subtitled "The Art, History and Culture of the Arabian Horse'' - in Lexington, because, Prince Nawaf said in so many words, Lexington is just so darned horsey. It bills itself as "the horse capital of the world.''

"With its history and knowledge of Arabian horses, putting it in any other city would, in my opinion, be a mistake,'' he said.

So, Lexington it is. The show (I'll write more about it in a future post) is magnificent. If you're in or near Kentucky, it is well worth seeing. Some 400 objects are on display, with the oldest going all the way back to the ancient city of Ur, 4500 years ago.

Ironically, though he is intensely interested in the sturdy, beautiful breed of horses developed on the Arabian peninsula, the prince doesn't ride - not anymore. "I used to be a rider, but after an accident I had on the horse, I stopped riding,'' he told us.

In theory, "A Gift From the Desert'' could have been put on anywhere, but it has been mounted in the U.S. the prince explained, because "Saudi Arabia and the people of the United States have a long-time relationship. Some do not know of this relationship. We want to enhance the connection between the United States and Saudi Arabia outside of the political phase.''

That has got to be a good idea, given the sometimes close but fitful relationship between these two very different nations. Both nations do, however, have a lot of people who know horses and care for them, and both have thriving breeding and racing traditions.

The prince opined that "a very limited number among U.S. people realize this fact,'' but said he feels "The ruling government of the United States realizes the friendship.'' Indeed, Prince Nawaf added that he considers U.S. President Barack Obama to be an interested and friendly head of state, and "all the people around the world'' have high hopes for Obama.

"I had the pleasure to meet him in Copenhagen,'' the prince said of Obama. "Although it was a short meeting, the way he greeted me showed that he really loves Saudi Arabia.''

I asked the prince if the Saudis would consider taking "A Gift From the Desert'' to other cities and countries if it is a hit here. He said they would.

One more thing about Arabian horses, and their importance in Saudi history and tradition: "The founder of Saudi Arabia, my grandfather (King Abdul-Aziz lbn Saud), unified the country from the back of a horse.'' Meaning, he rode far and wide in military expeditions, resulting in the creation of the modern Saudi state, in 1932.

With that, a smile, a handsake and a sweep of his robes, the prince was gone. That night, we would see him again at the show's opening gala, with its fashion show, Araby-meets-disco sound track, non-alcoholic wine (i.e., grape juice) and some very fine displays of jewelry inspired by Saudi traditional designs. And, of course, by horses.

Doughnut Nation

LEXINGTON, Kentucky - Nearly every culture has its own take on a basic staple snack: fried dough. In North America, doughnuts have been the fried dough of choice for generations, during which time people have formed firm opinions about who fries, shapes, sweetens and sells dough best. In this town, the capital of Kentucky's verdant horse country, that would be doughnuts from Lexington's own Spalding's Bakery.

A Lexingtonian described the glazed doughnuts at Spalding's, a local champion founded in 1929, as "Krispy Kreme on steroids.'' Spalding's may not have the nationwide fame that Krispy Kreme, another product of the South, enjoys across the United States, but it definitely takes pride of place here. Patrons line up early outside and inside the nondescript building across from the Jif peanut butter plant on Winchester Road, all to get an early start on the first doughnut of the day. I waited about 40 minutes last Saturday, and locals told me that was nothing.

But perserverance furthers. I took my first bite shortly after leaving Spalding's and savored it with a cup of coffee in hand. It was a glazed. It was sublime: sweet, aromatic and light considering the unavoidable calorie content. I'd recommend it to anyone. I am recommending it.

Spalding's had to close once, after spending 70 years at the same, too-small location. It reopened in new digs across from the Jif plant about 18 months later, after sending central Kentuckians into a frenzy of sugar withdrawal. Things are fine now. The customer lines are back, and you are as likely to see a judge waiting patiently to make his purchase as you will a man or woman in a blue-collar job. The family-owned bakery makes cakes, pies, cupcakes and other treats, too, but it's the doughnuts that prompt the line-ups.

These days, you have your muffins and you have your bagels, but doughnuts are not going away. Americans still love them - glazed, covered in chocolate, crusted in sprinkles, filled with jelly or cream - or should I say creme. Even so, the USA cannot claim the mantle of Doughnut Nation. That distinction falls to Canada. I have lived twice in Canada and can attest that Canadians have a love of doughnuts second to none. They eat twice as many doughnuts per capita as any other nation - maybe the cold weather and all that ice hockey makes doughnuts more essential. The top chain in Canada is Tim Horton's, named for a former hockey star, natch.

Americans don't have to cross an international border for their doughnut fix, though. If you're in the neighborhood, just head to Spalding's. It's located at 760 Winchester Road, at the intersection of Walton Avenue. It's closed Mondays and Tuesdays. Otherwise, Spalding's opens at 6:30 a.m. (7 a.m. on Sundays) and stays open till noon. (http://www.spaldingbakery.com/).

The Way We Fly Now

Travel news in-boxs are filled with word of new, first- and business-class service on long-haul, international routes - where the world's major airlines make their money. Meanwhile, domestic, short-haul service in the United States, which used to lead the world in civil aviation, just gets worse.

Latest case in point: A trip I took this past week between California and Lexington, Kentucky, a city I liked. Getting there, however, was not half the fun.

I flew both ways on United Airlines between San Francisco International Airport and Chicago O'Hare International Airport. The flights were packed. The seats back in steerage, where I flew, were lumpy, narrow and had almost no pitch - i.e., room between rows. The food for sale during the flights looked barely edible. The cabin crews were superannuated and often grumpy. Occasionally someone smiled.

Then it got worse. For flights between O'Hare and Lexington's delightfully named Blue Grass Airport, I transferred onto needle-thin regional jets contracted out by United to ExpressJets and operated as United Express. Think one flight attendent, even less room than on the mainline carrier and very limited space for carry-ons. I had to check my bag, something I almost never do, as it wouldn't fit into the Lilliputan overhead bin; at least, there was no checked-bag fee. Coming back, it was more of the same. And not a single empty seat - the result of fewer flights and smaller planes that United and other major airlinjes have put on domestic routes throughout the past decade, as they have been losing money and have thus downsized with a vengence.

Before the return flight from O'Hare to SFO, I bought a three-berry muffin at Starbucks. It was so lacking in flavor and loaded with sugar, I tossed it. Still hungry, I bought a tomato caprese sandwich at the rather grandly named Stefani's Tuscany Cafe in O'Hare. I figured it might be better than the food sold on the plane to economy class passengers.

Right after take-off, the passenger in front of me put his seat all the way back, and thanks to the usual paucity of pitch, it nearly became a windpipe-crusher. Then, oops! I dropped the fully wrapped sandwich on the floor; it bounced under my seat. Wiggle, bend and stretch though I may, there was no way I could pick up the wandering sandwich; there was simply no room. A United flight attendant made a sickly, sorry-about-that face and continued pushing the beverage cart down the single-aisle of the plane, not offering to help. Nearly four hours later, when we landed in San Francisco, I was finally able to retreive the sandwich.

So much for lunch. But, hey, I'll chow-down at home. Mistake. The tomato caprese 'wich ($8.35) was soggy and tasteless, threatening to give bland a bad name. I ate maybe half and dumped the rest; it had been like eating a fistful of Kleenex.

Ah, well, at least Lexington was interesting and fun. The way I see it, it's still rewarding being in new places, but more and more, I have come to dread taking air or land transportation in the U.S., with its neo-third world infrastructure and couldn't-care-less notion of hospitality.

Just another day in the sky in the United States of America, 2010.