Calia Wilde – Author

Confession time:

Despite being a fan of supernatural stories and myths, I’m not a big horror fan.

There’s one exception: when the terrifying overlaps with oral history preserved in the form of mythology. Or maybe when I can visit and touch some of the spooky “hot spots” as part of a historical rabbit hole.

We all know I adore rabbit holes.

So, let me take you on one today.

I’m a transplant to Maryland. While I don’t live in/near Baltimore anymore, I first settled in that area. The learning curve was immense, considering I’d come from the Midwest. People didn’t talk the same, eat the same, and the historic culture of Baltimore proved to be more deeply ingrained—or as deeply ingrained—as the Packers/Bears rivalry.

Let’s start there. The rivalries. Orioles v. Nationals, or Ravens v. the Washington Whatevers, and the best one of all, Ravens v. Steelers. It always comes down to that game. (IYKYK) What’s interesting is despite being a serious divide, the fans usually get along with each other. (Let’s not drag Philly or Boston into this discussion; they’re professionals.)

I went to one of the games, not sure if it was the O’s or a Ravens game first, and witnessed the fan fever, the Baltimore spirit, and best of all, got totally blindsided by the “O!” during the national anthem.

It’s a thing. Trust me.

Speaking of accents and getting blindsided, in order to acclimate my family to the area, we also needed the basics. I had the townhouse—owning a single-family home that isn’t connected to another one or two was out of budget and quite the coup here—but needed food. A neighbor kindly pointed me to the nearest one… on “Blair” Road… Hon.

(Or Hun… not sure even to this day which way it’s supposed to be portrayed in print.)

So, I drove out of my quaint little subdivision, turned left as told… and drove much longer than expected because whoever it was who’d told me where things were couldn’t accurately measure distances. One mile is NOT five blocks, dude.

I was getting panicked at this point and reached a T-intersection. I scanned the road sign to see if it was the infamous “Blair/Blaire” Road, and came up with ZILCH. The plat map I’d bought showed Blair Road in a whole different county. I was shooting blanks, folks.

I rescanned the sign. I was told to turn right. This was one of the first right turns along the path that resembled civilization.

It read, Belair Road.

I said it in my head like the Fresh Prince would say Belair. You know, two words: bell air.

Bellair… but one word, say it faster. I did, about five times.

FML. B’l’air. Blair.

The Smear is real.

And “Downy Ocean” isn’t a quaint little duck farm, either.

Here folks think Yooper accents are weird.

But the food!?

Yes, that can be weird, too. There’s a whole science to eating steamed crabs smothered in Old Bay. Which is unsettling because you’re literally eating with your fingers over a kraft paper tablecloth out of buckets.

Yes, buckets.

Still, it’s great food, especially with corn on the cob and a cold beer.

There’s more. Like chicken boxes, crab cakes, Lake Trout, and the all-time WINNER, Pit Beef sandwiches. My eyes are rolling back into my head right now. (IMO, they’re better than cheesesteak sandwiches. Don’t @ me. You know it’s true. Thinly shaved slow-roasted beef with grilled onions and tiger sauce on a crusty roll… I’m drooling.)

Fun fact: the best pit beef sandwiches are sold outside of a strip club.

Tips on other food: Pass on the soft-shell crab sandwiches. Nope. But if someone invites you to grab a snowball between May 1 and September 1, they’re really talking about a sno-cone, DO IT! That one was very amusing for someone used to icy winters to discover.

Lastly, there are the sights.

My day job allowed me to see the stadiums, the convention centers, and some of the cultural places like the amazingly gorgeously restored Hippodrome Theater, and the Walters Art Museum next to the Washington Monument. To clarify, that’s the FIRST one, not the BIG one. Also we did a show at the very first American Basilica built, and much more.

But I also took my family around to the more uniquely Baltimore places. Shot Tower, B&O Museum, Poe’s House, and of course, Edgar Allan Poe’s grave marker* located in a graveyard outside the Westminster Presbyterian Church (sometimes called “Westminster Hall”). *Note: the marker may not actually be where he’s buried. See the link in the text above.

While Poe’s ghost haunts both the house and the graveyard, there’s a third location I’ve been to that’s connected with his death. That’s America’s oldest continuously operating saloon/pub named, The Horse You Came In On Saloon. Supposedly, it was the last place old Edgar was seen alive.

Although, in my experience, the Cat’s Eye Pub was often more fun and more spooky in the dead of night. Fells Point remains a hotspot for nightlife despite losing Bertha’s Mussels, but either I aged out of that phase, or it just doesn’t have the same vibe anymore. Either way, walking down 250-year-old-plus cobblestone/brick streets in high heels while drunk is an EXPERIENCE I won’t forget.

Now, you’re probably wondering WHY I did this trip down memory lane, and create the subsequent tourist-y post, right?

Well… you know my rabbit holes are never a complete waste of time. I’m writing/planning TWO books for 2027 with these and more memories woven through my fictional characters’ chapters. Stay tuned. Code Name: Jade and Code Name: Fire are coming.

See? It pays to read to the end. 🙂