Getting the Memphis Blues

Before leaving home I'd heard the stories, been told the tales and listened to the warnings. Greyhound was, in almost all cases, very bad news! My journey from Nashville to Memphis was my first chance to live this transportation experience first hand! I'd taken the warnings (or some of them) on board and this would at least be a short daytime trip.

It didn't start well. I'd arrived early and booked my ticket in plenty of time but the bus was oversubscribed. It was one of those stories I'd heard. The people telling me about their experiences flooding my head. How long would I be waiting here? Would another bus come?

I was somewhat dubious about trying to ask for help given the woman at the ticket counter had failed miserably to understand me. She'd asked for my name, even asked me to spell it. I duly obliged only to get a ticket in the name of Mr Timmeo. Hardly the most encouraging of signs. Still I was reliably informed that a 2nd bus would be along shortly.

As it turned out this was possibly the best thing that could have happened. Now I understand if you're in a rush or have a connection then this is hardly the ideal situation but the half hour delay meant a half empty bus and a couple of seats all to myself. A couple of stops and fours hours later I was in Memphis. Hardly the nightmare journey I had envisaged.

I had decided to cut my stay in Memphis down to just 3 nights after being told by many that it just wasn't worth it. Coupled with my enjoyment of Nashville and no hostel in Memphis it seemed like a sensible decision to add the extra day onto Nashville. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I've ever made.

They don't appear to used to backpackers in Memphis. Indeed no hostel is a sure sign of that for starters. Budget options are not plentiful and I found myself staying in a Super 8 motel some distance out of town. Indeed arriving there I wondered where the hell I was! Cast away in the middle of nowhere off a couple of main roads and surrounded by very little indeed. My enquiry at the desk about where I could find food nearby was met initially by some driving instructions. I informed the man I didn't have a car. His 2nd reaction was laughter. His third was to hand me a pizza leaflet. Nice.

I was joined mid pizza munching by Steve who had arrived a day earlier from Nashville and the two of us headed out via the hostel "shuttle" (aka someones car) downtown to spend an evening with the City Centre's number 1 attraction - Beale Street.

Renowned for its plentiful bars and live blues music Beale street has traditionally been the heart and soul of Memphis. I went with high expectations of a blues equivalent of Nashville what I actually found was rather disappointing.

We took a walk from one end to the other to see what was available and decided to bar hop for a bit just to sample what was on offer in various establishments. The first bar we took our money to was, unfortunately, a sign of things to come. A splattering of maybe 3 or 4 people and us. The Cardinals weer up on the screen behind the bar but there was little else there to make it worthwhile staying past an opening beer.

Our search for some life too us through several more bars of a similar ilk. Dead, soulless places. Maybe on the weekend it gets livelier here but after Nashville there was an undoubted disappointment in what lay before us.

We did eventually find a place with some live music and more of an atmosphere, our jubilation was short lived though on learning that 90% of those in the bar were fresh off a Contiki Tour. We ended up staying to they kicked us out at the midnight hour (not exactly rock'n'roll opening times!) and found our way to one final bar, in fact the only one we could find open and joined the handful of other people whiling the late hours away with another beer.

All in all Beale Street didn't just fail to impress it downright depressed. Maybe we were spoilt in Nashville. Maybe my expectations were too high but Beale Street just didn't cut it for me. Not one little bit.

Music City!

Live music may have been the core of my time in Nashville but there was plenty of other things going on as well. As American Cities go Nashville has a fairly compact feeling to it and is pretty easy to walk around getting from place to place.

With the Country Music Festival in town, things were going on all over the place. Live music was of course everywhere but that aside there were funfairs and shows, free gifts and competitions to enter. I've never seen pain killers given out on the street before and I have to admit being a little baffled by the concept!

Among the entertainment was the MLB roadshow. I passed by the batting cage and saw people pitching against the speed gun. I nervously watched for a while before plucking up the courage to have a go myself. Needless to say its not as easy as it looks. It certainly isn't like throwing a cricket ball. My first few pitches wound up a mile off the strike zone and although I did end up getting it a little closer, a 55mph fastball isn't likely to see me into the majors any time soon! I wasn't going to leave without having a swing of the bat too! Obviously there were people doing this who knew what they were doing. It seems like every kid at least learns some parts of the sport. Me, I'd never done this before and know what I know from watching it. Playing it is a different matter entirely. After a couple of swings and misses I did get the hang of it and was pleased just to be making contact with the balls that were coming at me (on what was probably the lowest speed). Whether I was crap or not didn't really matter to me, I'd finally had a go at it and had great fun in doing so!


In a place known as "Music City" there's more music to it than just the live variety. Record Companies, recording studios and offices fill whats known as Music Row - A section just outside the downtown area chock full of industry buildings. Indeed, artists come to Nashville to both record and play here. for many its a dream realised when they finally do. One such example was stying at my hostel. A guy called Lawrence had brought himself, his music and his guitar for the festival. You could see by the look in his eye that the whole thing had engulfed him. It seemed to turn a confident man into a nervous, bewildered one. Perhaps it was the realisation that there was so much talent here already or that his songs just might not cut it. Whatever it was the enthusiasm seemed to drain within a few days. Had it been me I would have wanted to be out there playing wherever and whenever I could and I got the impression he had come with such intentions but what I saw was a man afraid it seemed by what he was witnessing and awestruck by the experience.

I went to experience Music Row for myself, to see first hand the other heart of Nashville. Its impressive for sure. Building after building housing studio after studio interspersed with Record Company Headquarters or offices. Giant guitars surrounded many of the buildings, with road names dedicated to the great artists of yesteryear. There's no doubt that this City lives up to its billing!




Nashville is also home to a rather bizarre replica of the Parthenon. It seems so much out of place amidst everything else here. Set away in Centennial Park, just a few minutes walk from the hostel its place is not a natural one. It was designed as an exact replica of the Greek structure to go with Nashville's billing as the "Athens of The South". Now, I'm not entirely sure where that came from. There seems to be very little evidence of anything in this City being Greek at all, this building aside of course.



My three days in Nashville turned into five in the end. I had a real feel for the place. Its addictive in so many ways. The atmosphere and vibe of the place is relaxed, polite yet party filled. Its people and those visiting were friendly and welcoming and the ability to listen to live music all day, every day is bliss. The beer flowed, the music rolled and my time flew! Heck I was even doing the "Holla and Swalla" like a local by the time I left (if you're not sure what on earth that is, see the pic below. Raise your glass, scream your head off "Holla" and then drink your beer "Swalla" - Easy really)! Nashville, I WILL be back one day!

What the hell is CMT?

I was sat in St Louis, perusing the Internet when an email popped up from the hostel I had booked in Nashville. A somewhat unusual request was contained within. Apparently they wanted payment up front for the 3 days I had booked there due to something called the CMT Festival.

My curiosity obviously got the better of me and I googled said event only to be horrified by what I saw. The Country Music Festival! OH MY GOD! I was going to be in Nashville during the biggest Country Music Event in the World! Many thoughts ran through my mind, most of which had involved me wondering how on earth I was going to deal with 3 days of nothing but Country Music, of Country Music obsessed fans. I remember feeling like I was in my own private nightmare!

I happened to mention this to Emily when I saw her, only to be laughed at (sympathetically of course) "So do you know any country music?" She asked. "Do the Dixie Chicks count" I feebly replied. More laughter "Oh and I know that Achy Breaky Heart Song". More laughter, less controlled this time. I felt a sick feeling in my stomach.

And so it was that I came to be in Nashville for the Country Music Festivities of 2006. Unwilling to spend the rather hefty sums of money required to get passes to the main events I satisfied myself with the live music that seemed to be oozing from virtually every bar in town. Besides what was the point of paying to see someone you dont know sing a pile of songs you don't know when I could get that for free in any of the plentiful bars on Broadway and down 2nd.

From 10am till 2 or 3am the live music rolled out of bar after bar. During the day I was happy enough just plonking myself down in a bar, writing, listening and watching. Taking in the atmosphere, the people, the vibe. I knew very little of any of the songs, occasionally something by Johnny Cash would ring familiar bells or Lynyrd Skynyrd would become recognisable. Generally though I just took it all in. Some of it I found I actually quite liked, I mean, I couldn't define what it was or if it was one sort of Country Music but there were definitely things I preferred.





I could sit, sup a beer or 2, listen and watch some cool live music, write and chat (they would have the volume just perfect for it) and then when it was something I wasn't over keen on I could move on, find another bar and so it went on. I must have visited a pile of different bars over my time there, seen dozens of live bands, even got myself an autograph or 2 - Sometimes the artists would come round during a show and just sign stuff, wanting a little souvenir but having nothing for them to sign I got them to scribble in my journal. I think its made for a nice keep sake.

The Stage and Tootsies became my favourite hang outs and places I went back to visit the most. Tootsies I later learnt had a very storied history in Nashville. It was the place so many artists and bands had begun their playing careers or been talent spotted. It was in this bar that something quite unexpected happened.



I'd met an Aussie called Steve back at the hostel and the two of us had decided to go and check out some of the bars and music in town. This ended up being put on hold as the two of us were asked to be part of a documentary being filmed in Nashville by a Polish group staying at our hostel. We'd both agreed to it and after signing our lives away for them we were given our instructions. They asked me to appear to be teaching this woman how to play a country song on the guitar. Having never heard the song before I had no idea of the tempo of how it really went, I just had the chords and that was pretty much it.. Still, they seemed happy enough with it and got me to whack out a few other tunes as well before I left, the cameras still taking all the action in. It was certainly a strange experience and I guess not everyone can claim to have been on a Polish documentary!


We finally did manage to get into town and bounced around between bars to see what was going on and what some of the ones I hadn't been in were like. Obviously I knew very little of the music but the odd song was starting to become familiar and we were both now able to sing a few words to "I Love this Bar". Of course we had no idea whose song it was, we'd both just heard it a few times and we pleasantly surprised to catch a cool bluegrass version of it while we were out an about. Later in teh even we'd ended up in Tootsies and John Stone (who I'd seen earlier on in my time in Nashville) was playing so we decided to stay for a bit. We'd got chatting to a couple of lasses who were in town for the festivities but were getting a little tired of the music after John Stone had finished and were thinking of leaving. It was announced shortly afterwards that ABC wanted to get in and so some filming so they were locking the doors. If you wanted to leave you had to do it now or else go to the upstairs bar and wait for about 30 minutes.



Not feeling like we could be bothered to wait around we had decided to leave when one of the girls turned to us and said "Don't go, when they do this it normally means that someone good is going to be playing". Thinking it could be interesting, we followed the girls upstairs. They seemed to know what they were doing so we stuck around the back of the upstairs bit nearest the stair to get back down again.

Rumours upstairs started going round that a band called "Sugarland" were going to be playing. Now, of course this name meant absolutely nothing to neither Steve nor I. We were being told all sorts of stories ranging from the "they're really not that good" to "Think Nashville's U2" Whilst this may have been a rather big overestimation of their size they seemed to be a pretty well known, popular band. The pushing and shoving for position started creeping in.

45 minutes passed before we got the go ahead to make our way downstairs again. Somehow what we saw when we got to the bottom of the stairs was not the half empty room we expected but one already packed to the rafters. Locked doors my ass! Still they allowed just a few people from upstairs in, and being amongst the first few down we were allowed in. The girls were pretty excited by the whole thing and we were both getting into the mood of the occasion.

TV cameras were everywhere, apparently it was to be screened in an ABC special. The band played just a few songs, a couple of them I realised, I'd heard many times over the course of the past few days. Only know did it actually click that they were Sugarland's songs and here they were performing in a cramped by, free of charge to me and just a few others! The girls were teaching us the words and we were trying to sing along as best we could. The band shot back out the door pretty soon after they'd finished but I was totally blown away by the whole event. The atmosphere in there was just incredible, it seems everyone knew all the songs and the band captured me in those moments they were on stage. It was all starting to make me realise that some of this country music stuff was actually alright! Who the hell saw THAT coming??!!

A Brit infestation and a Norwegian Girl

It was funny saying goodbye to St Louis. I'd spent 8 days there, the longest I've spent in any one place while travelling till this point and the place had grown on me. I was sorry to have to say goodbye to the place and its people and had that strange feeling of leaving somewhere you know and headed again for the unknown.

My first flight in the US was a funny one, a plane taking no more than about 60 people, you could feel every movement and every turn in your stomach, something I've never had before. Fortunately it was only an hours flight to Nashville.

The hostel itself was pretty laid back, no one was there to check me in so a Scottish lass who was staying there and was at college for a while In Nashville showed me to my dorm. The place is pretty small and the only hostel in Nashville. One thing struck me immediately - It was full of Brits! They've never known it like it apparently but somewhere in the region of three quarters of the hostel population was British! I met a couple of English guys who had been road tripping together through the US and one, Lewis, was following a similar rtw path to me. They all seemed like a decent bunch and we agreed to meet up later and go out.

Later a bunch of us got chatting outside the hostel and we all ended up piling into 3 cabs and going downtown to some bars. My first taste of the Nashville nightlife was bizarre. We hit up 3 or 4 bars that night, country music filled the places we entered. Not knowing much about it at all I just went with it.




As the evening progressed I watched a rather entertaining moment unfold. One of the English guys had latched on to a rather stunning looking Norwegian girl. Now she'd been drinking most of the afternoon and evening and wasn't in too good shape. Still she knew what she wanted - The most expensive drink on the menu and yep, the English guy was going to pay for it. back at the table she proceeded to lose her balance and knock the drink flying all oer herself and a couple of others. Nice work! Even nicer was the way she proceeded to blame a couple from Leicester (Jon and Jo) for her work. They, of course, had done nothing wrong yet still made an apology. She wouldn't hear of this, called her a bitch and went off in a huff. Seriously I wouldn't want to be with someone so stuck up themselves like that, no matter how beautiful they are!

I returned to the hostel with Jon and Jo and was almost delighted to hear stories of the Norwegian lass puking her guts up, leaving the English guy to wonder what on earth went wrong! Can you say "just desserts?".