Dim lighting proves a perfect romantic treat for my fiancée and myself. There are only a few tables to each room and quiet melodies of blues chirp from speakers in corners as we taste blackened chicken, Cajun shrimp, bean soup, warm bread, and a banana dessert that is presented in front of us by chef. He shuts off lights to exaggerate lit brandy; he spouts entertaining ghost stories about old house.

The Inn sits at 3000 feet above sea level and that night an amazing thunderstorm strikes, and at that elevation each roll of thunder shakes very screws and nails that hold building together. What an electrifying experience.

We rise to smell of an all out buffet style breakfast and watch sun fight fog back into mountains and cast shadows on still wet porch.

Tennessee State Atlas & Gazetteer Since arriving, Watauga Lake has me curious, and I hear rumors about its transparent waters and terrific scenery. We schedule an appointment with owner of Fish Springs Marina and we are riding in a pontoon boat a few hours later. The water spins in a seltzer-like whirlpool underneath boat as we speed off in a hunt for old town of Butler, Tennessee.

The jailhouse is nearly visible at over one hundred feet below surface of crystalline water, and it is a churning, bubbly remnant of a city long since moved up mountain. A few other buildings that government decided not to tear down swim under third cleanest (manmade) lake held back by one of world’s largest earthen dams.

“I’m not sure where we heard that from,” owner of Fish Springs Marina tells us, after he decides to take afternoon off and join us on a tour of majestic body of water. It is as if we are peering into a million gallon fish tank.

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John Ross, Jetsetters Magazine Correspondent – Read Jetsetters Magazine at www.jetsettersmagazine.com To book travel visit Jetstreams.com at www.jetstreams.com and for Beach Resorts visit Beach Booker at www.beachbooker.com

Next up was a solo performance by Wu Man (that's her name, not just her gender) on a pipa, a lute-like stringed instrument from China. She played a traditional song that constantly shifted in tempo and intensity. The sound of instrument changed as well: one minute it rang melodically like a mandolin; then she would pluck it quietly like a harp; and occasionally she would thrash furiously like Pete Townsend torturing his guitar at end of a Who concert. Until she played sustained notes with vibrato in them, my ears couldn't identify sound as distinctively Chinese, so broad was range of tone and mood achieved by player.

Did I mention there were danger and conflict on Silk Road? The next modern piece, 'Blue as Turquoise Night of Neyshabur', by Iranian composer Kayhan Kalhor, featured several traditional instruments from Persia and India. These, however, were utterly drowned out by violins, violas, cellos, and contrabass - as if Asia were being warned never to get into a land war in Europe. The kemancheh, or "spike fiddle," from Iran and Caucasus region, sounds somewhat tinnier than a violin and more - well, old. Its mournful sweetness couldn't be heard except during solos.

The ney, a Middle Eastern flute of bamboo, wood, or metal, made such a delicate

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Rob LaGrone, Jetsetters Magazine Correspondent – Read Jetsetters Magazine at www.jetsettersmagazine.com To book travel visit Jetstreams.com at www.jetstreams.com and for Beach Resorts visit Beach Booker at www.beachbooker.com