Nashville (TN)

What’s there to say about Nashville, other than yeehaw! We arrived in the evening on July 22^nd. And what a fun downtown, as long as you like country music, which I don’t especially (though I like bluegrass), and don’t mind a town that’s still a little rough around the edges. But yeehaw. We had a wonderful time and I came away primed to run out and buy a dozen country music CDs (I did buy a couple). I needed no further convincing after spending a few hours’ touring the outstanding museum at the Country Music Hall of Fame and realizing just how much American music history was made in Nashville, Tennessee.

The street scene was also a kick, with lots of street performers pining their talents. We seemed to gravitate to the less crowded bars, and for three glorious days became regulars at the Full Moon Saloon. The sweet woman at the bar not only served beer one-handed, she sang at the same time with a wireless mic in her other hand, while her partner strummed his guitar on stage. Let the record show we did not get plastered, since my lone kidney doesn’t like me to go there, but we did, I think, get a little drunk on music. We did not see anybody famous (to us anyway), but saw and heard many, many young and not-as-young musicians who obviously love what they do and perhaps hope to reach the big time some day. It seemed that most just play for fun and for tips, which in a slow bar might mean enough for a sub at Quiznos. The bars and bands were wall-to-wall and some were jam-packed so those folks must have been doing alright. Slow bar, fast bar—there’s probably a song about the disparity somewhere.

Kris spent the days wandering the shops and sights, checking out the river and discovering hidden gems, while I attended my conference at the gigantic, curving conference center. Our last night was a tossup between moseying over to East Nashville, which has a developing music scene of its own, or checking out a show at the Ryman Theater, which once hosted the Grand Ol’ Opry. We saved our nickels and went for East Nashville, and though we struck out music-wise, we did score an excellent dinner at the Marche Bistro. Fabulous service and quality food in the same establishment, what a concept. The walk back seemed a little iffy in an unfamiliar town, so we played it safe and caught a bus back downtown.

The Ryman.

Kelley's Heroes.

Pedal tavern on Broadway.

 

Too soon, the conference was over (July 25) and it was time leave Nashville. I was broken-hearted to learn that we were going to miss Jeff Bridges and the Abiders at the Ryman later in August. We slowly scooted out of town, stopping at the Parthenon (a spectacular full-size replica of the one in Athens) built in 1897 for the Centennial Exposition. Then we found a cute district near Vanderbuilt University that Kris had read about for a little more exploring. We then navigated into the countryside and to the Loveless Café that a friend at work had recommended. Try the fried chicken, he insisted, so we did. It was excellent, of course—another fine stop on a great tour of Tennessee. From there, it was north to Louisville, Kentucky, where Kris was to catch a plane to DC the next morning so she could return to work on Sunday. I would drive the truck home solo.

We added one more diversion, however, to break up the long drive to Loo-uh-ville. I saw a sign for Bowling Green’s historic downtown and had a notion to check it out. Lucky for us, we found a free outdoor concert (bluesey bluegrass or maybe just blues) underway in a lush downtown park and plaza. It gave the Wilcoxes a nice and easy ending to a splendid week of travel and adventure.

Parthenon.

Bowling Green, Kentucky.