Now that my Ali Wong show was officially postponed I didn’t have a real reason to visit San Antonio, but decided to go nonetheless to check it out. I arrived just as the city was beginning to implement coronavirus distancing, so pretty much everything was still operational with tweaks. Between these preventative measures and so many fewer people being tourists around I felt okay still visiting a few spots by keeping my distance, regular hand washing, avoiding close quarters, remaining outdoors as much as possible, and just playing it by ear as the situation changed not being on home turf.
I rolled into the city in the late afternoon, parked, and wandered down to the Alamo plaza and luckily as I took some creepy cat photos (#creepycatroadtrip- check it out on the Insta) I watched the small line dwindle as some rain drops began and closing time approached. By the time I hopped in the line there were only about 5 other people around. Win!
I had heard that the Alamo was kind of a let down, and while it was a beautiful exterior facade there wasn’t a lot more to the site… I enjoyed reading about the history of the Spanish missions and expansion, Texas’ history towards independence and statehood, etc, but the actual battle part didn’t resonate with me so much.
I walked part of the river walk, which is such a nice and unique element of the city I wish I’d been able to explore it as intended. I had dinner in my van before heading towards the old Pearl Brewery area. My best understanding is that this was an operational brewery in the early 2000s when the brand was acquired by a larger conglomerate, and the old brewery space in the city has evolved into this amazing space with a hotel, a lot of high end bars and restaurants, shops, and one of the Culinary Institute of America campuses. It was kind of later in the evening on a Sunday so by the time I got there it was pretty dead, perfect for social distance outing? Had one fancy drink made from some spirit I’d never heard of similar to a toned down tequila that was like a restrained bloody Mary maybe? The bar was in the hotel and maintained the feel of the old industrial feel while also luxurious and full of cozy, secluded nooks. The whole complex was very hipster vibe and would be amazing to live near and frequent. One tick on the livability test!
In the morning I visited another of the old missions that is now a national historic site. The church was closed for pandemic fun times, so I just walked around the exterior and read about the mission lifestyle and the native tribes in the area and their relationship to the complex.
Finally, as per usual, I hit up a few roadside attractions before leaving town. One was a set of giant cowboy books (probably not the largest in the world, but pretty big) that were initially built in DC as an art installation (woot woot!) but now stand outside a mall. My second stop was to a large Veladora prayer candle themed mosaic. A cool display in an artsy neighborhood. I would totally come back to spend some more time in this small-feeling city at a more normal time. If I can’t figure out my ticket refund situation (Ticketmaster is a mess understandably) perhaps that time will be this summer- ha!
I had planned to come to Texas by a certain date since I had tickets to attend a screening of some Banff Film Festival winners, which I did for a couple of years after a friend invited me and I got hooked. This was like a little piece of my usual annual routine while away and I”m glad it worked out. The movie was in Houston and whether due to not huge interest, people staying home, or a weird reason a bunch of seats were left reserved and unused, I had the whole row to myself at this Alamo Drafthouse (so decent sized seats) except one man on the opposite end, and no one right behind me, so I felt pretty okay being there and eating the massive amount of bottomless popcorn. The movies were great, as usual. The following day the festival tour announced they were suspending all other showings going forward, so for once it was perfect timing.
Houston itself didn’t really interest me much. I stopped off at a few roadside attractions like when I creepily took pics of a house adorned with beer cans, tabs, bottle caps, the whole shebang. It was a sight. I wonder what the neighbors think? I wonder if the owner was just looking for an excuse to consume enough beer to make it, or maybe it was an inspired recycling project? We may never know (because I didn’t see anyone to ask). What requires less deep thought was a statue of girls taking a selfie, which I laughed at and of course immediately took a selfie with. I wonder whether this will still be here 20 years from now, and what kids will think it all means.
While my movie timing worked out, the comedy show I was scheduled to see in San Antonio was, as expected, postponed, so my timeline opened up. Rather than go straight to San Antonio I decided to escape to the beach, and drove south to Corpus Christi. The drive was mostly monotonous, but as I approached the coast there were beautiful marshes, some giant windmills, and eventually a bunch of oil refineries (side note- the street names near the refineries were spectacular. Corn Products Road was my personal favorite) dotted the landscape as it turned into one giant strip mall for miles. Over the bridge from Corpus Christi though I reached Padre Island National Seashore, which was so calm and relaxing. Only occasional cell signal, not many visitors so I could claim a spot on the beach well away from anyone, nice breeze and occasional sun peeking through the waves. The water was warmer than I expected but I didn’t go in for real, just up to the knees.
Padre Island offers beach access and camping for vehicles, which is pretty cool and I think the van would be okay on super packed sand but I was not going to risk it with my 2-wheel drive heavy mess that slips a little even on just gravel or slick rainy surfaces. There was ample room at a campsite, though, so I played it safe and got a space in the area behind the dunes that was fully paved. After I’d set up all my stuff an started to cook dinner I was told that if I wanted I could set up a tent on the beach, which I considered- one voice in my head said ‘that’s super cool, how often are you gonna do that??” while the louder thanks to inertia voice said “um, sand everywhere… who knows how high the tides come up… wet sleeping bag… nope” and stayed put. It was still lovely for the nights listening to the waves and getting the breeze in, but in retrospect wish I had done it anyway.
Went for walks on the beach, set up my chair and read, got takeaway pizza for Pi Day to fill my belly, all in all just a nice time away from many people. On an early morning walk timed to coincide with sunrise, I spent about 5 minutes watching something I wasn’t sure whether might be a sea turtle eggshell washed ashore, but turned out to be a golf ball. Too cloudy to get any good sunrises, but at least got one nice sunset moment.
On my way back from the coast towards San Antonio I made a quick side trip to the strawberry capital of Texas to see their strawberry water tower and all their other proud displays. If only it had been strawberry season!! I would have loaded up and gone full glutton. As it was at this time of year I saw maybe one person out and about and zero activity in any shop or stand. Already missing the beach, but excited to see what San Antonio had in store and just listened to Ali Wong’s audiobook since my evening with her was off the table 😦
While I could have spent another week in New Orleans, I had already decided that I’d have to come back some day in the future with friends to get the full experience, so wasn’t too worried about trying to pack in all the sights. Megan’s connections continued to be a blessing as her sister offered to let me stay in her beach camp for a few days in the coastal town of Grand Isle. I drove about 2 hours south and arrived late that night at the house set up on stilts by the Gulf. It was so relaxing to sleep those 2 nights with the windows open being lulled by the sound of waves and breeze. I was super lazy and used the time to cook some food to bring with me, read, and sleep. There’s something about driving for long stretches that just takes it out of you and makes you tense despite not really ‘doing’ anything, so relaxing was wonderful. And beautiful sunset and sunrise, of course.
Since I’d not actually gone through having to reserve the property and Megan’s sister had just sent me the info to arrive and get in, I missed the memo on “check out time” and their usual cleaning people arrived while I was in my pajamas, unshowered and unpacked. Oops. They were cool about it but I still packed up and hightailed it out unprepared and stinky. Ha. At least I changed my clothes and brushed my teeth? You’re welcome, world.
I drove along the coastline toward Texas and stopped for the night in New Iberia, home of tabasco. I contemplated going on the tour of the factory but decided I’d rather just eat some sauce next time I see it. The next day I spent the morning in the town of St. Martinville between New Iberia and Lafayette, famous for capitalizing on Longfellow’s poem Evangeline and becoming the home of Acadian history. I walked around the town square, the Evangeline Tree park where they claim the real life lovers who inspired the characters in the poem finally reunited, and peeked in the back patio of the Acadian History Center and spied the family name plaque. Good stuff.
Not far from town is the Longfellow-Evangeline Historic Site and state park, so I stopped off there as well and read up on the Acadian diaspora and the difference between Creoles and Acadians, and toured the grounds. They have structures to tour set up to show a Creole home, and Acadian cabin, and their ways of life in the bayou.
Back in New Iberia I spent part of the day in the Rip Van Winkle Gardens, so named because the man who built the home and gardens initially was an actor who played the role thousands of times. The gardens had an Asian influence and a bunch of peacocks roaming, so that was something. It’s site on Lake Peigneur also happens to be adjacent to the largest man made sinkhole thanks to an oil company (Texaco I think?) drilling in the salt mine area hit the wrong place and caused the mines to fill with water and create this giant sinkhole that swallowed the owner’s son’s house, so now there’s just a chimney sticking out of the water. Oops.
Continued on past the marshland, bayou, past more sugar cane and oil fields, and onwards to Texas!
New Orleans! I was very excited to go to New Orleans, and it was not a let down. I happened to visit when the weather was beautiful, and the Corona crazies hadn’t yet hit in full force. I got extremely lucky by knowing Megan, another friend from work, who is from the area and has all the connections. She connected me with her good friends, Fred and Patty and family, who graciously invited me to stay with them for a few nights at their gorgeous home near City Park. I arrived in the evening just as they were heading out for a movie, which gave me the opportunity to explore the area. I navigated the bus and trolley system to check out the area and finished my terrible book (throw away murder mystery cozy in a series I should quit but am invested in) at a cool bar my friend Seth recommended.
The next day was again gorgeous weather and a weekend, so everyone everywhere was out and about. I spent most of the day in the French Quarter just walking each street, admiring the romantic architecture, and the vibe. I did a walk by of the legendary Cafe du Monde but it was Sunday brunch time and the line was blocks long, and while I love fried as much as the next American I hate lines even more. Plus there was more to eat! Central Grocery had been recommended for the Muffuletta, so I got a veggie version (yes, this is just olive salad and cheese… still so good!) and went to a park across the street to eat by the fountain. Added bonus: this park bench came with free viewing of ridiculous tourists almost falling in the fountain, homeless people yelling at passers by, and could hear the jazz playing at a nearby restaurant patio.
Full of carbs and oil, I kept wandering and in true New Orleans tradition did some street drinking. I stopped by Lafitte’s Blacksmith Bar and had an excellent Bloody Mary, and checked out this funky place that claims to be the oldest structure in operation as a bar in the country… I guess this means it’s just the bar in the oldest building but it wasn’t always a bar? I assume it was actually once a blacksmith shop but who knows. Also it’s said to be haunted, but alas I didn’t feel any ghosts. There may have been a sort of famous person there? I’m pretty out of the loop, but people kept trying to sneak pictures unobtrusively but he kept catching them and just offering to take photos with them. I didn’t get one, and still have no idea who it was. Or maybe just a friendly guy who wanted to photo bomb everyone. Mysteries abound.
I tried to go to the voodoo museum, but the lady was weird about what times she wanted people to go so I just abandoned that idea. I popped into a fancy hotel where there’s a bar with an old carousel in the center that actually slowly rotates. It was cool, but looked very odd in the middle of this modern room. I did not stay for anything more than a photo, but they had a great bathroom. Overshare: I’ve never been a person who has to use the bathroom that frequently on a usual day, but there’s something about not having access to a toilet in your ‘home’ that turns a switch and now I make a point to use pretty much every bathroom I have access to, just in case another isn’t available for a while. I hope this is not a permanent change in my life. Routines are weird. I wonder if I can put “finding the best free toilet in a 5 block radius” as a skill on my resume one day…
At one point I realized I had forgotten my phone charger cord, so went back to the van and decided to use this detour for a little siesta. The small joys of van living- your bed is always there! My little nap was limited to about 20 minutes due to a random parade going by with small floats, marching bands, and a few people on horses? Welcome to New Orleans. I got my stuff together, changed my shoes (big mistake. I got terrible blisters from forgetting socks. Ugh), and started back into town where I had another bloody mary from a cool gay bar which I enjoyed on the steps of some building while listening to street musicians. One of the main reasons aside from the spicy that I get these drinks is for the garnish. The garnish! It’s like getting a drink with a side of veggies. These both came with pickled green beans and olives- delish- but the 2nd came with pickled okra, too. I keep trying to get on board with this vegetable, but blegh. Even my love of all things pickled did not combat the slimy grossness of okra. It’s one of maybe a handful of vegetables I don’t love.
In the sea of good music from the bars and streets, there emerged this odd and very loud song that reminded me of a child learning to play the recorder. It just got louder and louder as I walked toward the river. I had been contemplating taking one of those sunset rides on a riverboat. Luckily this decision was made easier when I discovered the monstrous sound was coming from the steamboat Natchez itself- the steam from the boat powers an organ on which someone was playing songs. I’m playing fast and loose when I say ‘playing songs’ in this case. Money saved!
It was now evening and the line at Cafe du Monde was down to just a few people, so to there it was. I did a quick walk by to see if I could really do the locals’ trick of just swooping in on a table vacating since there isn’t really a seating system per say, but decided the other tourists in line would actually murder me if I did, so I just waited 5 minutes and got a table. I shoved about 1000 calories of fried dough and powdered sugar in my face, which was yummy but not like the best thing ever and I remembered I don’t really love desserts or powdered sugar that much but dammit I am doing the New Orleans experience.
Before heading back to my home for the night I went to the Marigny neighborhood for some music, and saw a fun band playing and chatted with some ladies on a girls trip, one of whom spends a lot of time in the town where my parents live. Small world.
The following day I spent the morning in City Park. While waiting for the sculpture garden to open, I ignored my recent memory of not loving powdered sugar and went for round 2 of beignets at the park outpost of the same cafe. No line. Good views. Another 1000 calories.
Having killed enough time, the park was open and I walked every inch of path through the very cool garden. I loved it. It was my favorite time in the city. Except for the man who loudly cleared his throat and banged on the open door while glaring at me taking too long in his opinion to wash my hands and exit the park bathroom so he could clean it. I guess he didn’t get the Coronavirus memo.
Next I walked around one of the many cool cemeteries in town, filled with mausoleums thanks to the frequent flooding making underground burial less than ideal for a long time. Another group of cool memorials.
I found a waling tour map of famous homes in the garden district, so I checked out the lovely huge homes and did not see any of the famous owners like John Goodman, Sandra Bullock, Anne Rice, or the others I’ve forgotten.
Last stop before leaving town was back into the French Quarter to see some zydeco music. The lead singer/accordionist and drummer were personable but the other two guys looked like they hated life and never once cracked a smile. Weird. The accordion guy travels for gigs sometimes and had played in Glen Echo before so we discussed that and he tried hard to broker a connection between myself and the one other solo person, a dude from San Francisco who was sitting at the next table. That went nowhere but I appreciate the sentiment, sir!
New Orleans was a fun place, but the first city (aside from a little at Disney) where I could tell for sure it would be way more fun to be there with people than alone. An excuse to return!
From Memphis I had initially thought I’d travel through Tupelo back to the Natchez Trace, but enough people told me that Tupelo wasn’t worth visiting (including the Termite lady from the Arcade lunch) that I decided to skip it and go south through Oxford instead. Fortunately for me this gave me the chance to meet up briefly with Nolte, the daughter of a work friend, who also had worked at the camp I ran for a few summers. She was such a good sport showing me around this cute college town- I’m sure her mother called and strongly encouraged her to agree because what college senior really wants to spend their free time making small talk with your summer manager, but it was nice to hear what her post-school plans are, how the family is, and get a little walking tour of the main square downtown. I have a feeling her parents also offered to buy her lunch if she went with me, but hey, good pizza is a good excuse regardless.
Oxford’s square is beautiful with a courthouse in the center and two level shops and restaurants around with porches and balconies everywhere. We passes at least 3 bookstores, and a bench with a statue of hometown hero William Faulkner. After leaving Nolte to go back to spring break packing I did a brief stop at the (alleged- I’ve read that they may have been outdone) world’s largest cedar bucket. Very specific record, I must say, but located outside a cedar furniture store so makes sense.
My friend Karla had mentioned a funky inn on my route, and I am so glad she did because it was one of a kind. Turns out my friend Katie had stayed here before, too, and she does a lot of trip research to find memorable places so another indication it was a good choice! The Shack Up Inn in Clarksdale is a collection of old (or perhaps some made to look old from what I’ve read) shacks, silos and barns outfitted to retain the rustic feel and accented by all sorts of vintage posters, signs, antiques, and fun art installations. The main building houses the registration, shop, and a restaurant/bar that sometimes has live music. It looked super cool but unfortunately there wasn’t anyone scheduled for the night I was in town. They were in full prep mode for a wedding that weekend, though. I stayed in ‘The Gunny Shack’ which was one room that managed to fit a piano inside, and a cute little porch I took full advantage of in daylight hours relaxing with some wine in the super fancy glassware provided.
Clarksdale is a blues destination, home of the Delta Blues Museum, and the site of the crossroads at which Robert Johnson (a blues legend of the 1930s- I had to look that up) is said to have sold his soul to the devil for the ability to play guitar like crazy. With this of course comes a bunch of great blues clubs and old time juke joints. I went to the Ground Zero club and saw a band playing- the core players were pretty decent, but they kept inviting other regular performers to join them, some better than others. One guy was good, another guy sounded like a suburban dad doing bad blues karaoke…. weirdly enough this guy heads a band that’s been around for years and was having a 10th or 20th or whatever-th anniversary show I heard advertised on the radio for days after even in different towns. Fun fact: the club is partially owned by Morgan Freeman and there are pics of him all over the place.
I hopped back onto the Parkway from town, and drove through the swampy areas, the pastures of cows and fields of sugarcane, and shady forests with spring peeper sounds calling from the trees. Along the way I attempted to visit 3 roadside attractions- a cyprus swamp boardwalk, an abandoned ghost town, and something else I’m forgetting- but between downed trees blocking the road and high water flooding from recent storms, I wasn’t able to reach any of them. In fact, while I was driving I passed a truck that had just avoided having a tree fall on it blocking the lane. This gave me total tree flashbacks (back story if you don’t know- a tree limb broke and fell on my car while I was driving about 2 years ago and almost squished me but luckily didn’t though the car was totaled), but made it to the end of the parkway and into Natchez just fine.
Natchez was a surprisingly nice town to spend the day in. I got some decent free coffee and a map at the visitor’s center (100% spent the night in their parking lot overnight), parked downtown (on Franklin Street no less), and walked around. My walk took me through the kind idealized Main Street places, down to the river where there was once a booming riverboat trade and the accompanying illicit bars and casinos, to a still functioning casino where I lost a grand total of $1 on a piggy themed slot machine, under a basic pedestrian bridge they’ve tried to fancy up by calling it the Bridge of Sighs (sigh I did not), and through the old fancy homes. I stopped in the local brewery for lunch, popped in a church the visitor center lady insisted I visit, and my funny surprise of the day was a grave to a cat named Tripod. RIP, three-legged cat.
A little outside of the downtown I checked out a historic site at an old plantation home with exhibits on the antebellum era, which actually had a decent section on the plight of the enslaved people in the household which followed some by name, so at least there’s that. Right downtown was another historic site I visited which was once a successful barbershop of a prominent freedman with exhibits based on his surviving journals. It was a different take on the same era and I’m glad they have both in the area. Completely negating my feeling that perhaps this city was trying to come to terms with its history, I came across Mammy’s Cupboard, a restaurant housed in the skirt of a woman with obvious racist undertones despite having been repainted at some point to make it look more like a white lady? This one kind of blew my mind. Perhaps a sign it was time to leave Mississippi, so I did just that.
Driving to Memphis was fairly uneventful, and I arrived on the later side and made a last minute impulse decision to stay at the Graceland campgrounds since I didn’t have a good sense of where anything was in the city and had heard from multiple people that there were definitely some neighborhoods that were better suited to overnighting than others, but I hadn’t found them yet so seemed like a good idea to stage myself close to the ridiculous Elvis mecca for my next morning’s tour.
Yes, I 100% went to Graceland and paid all the overpriced fees to tour the home, grounds, and exhibits. I’m not an obsessed superfan or anything but like most Elvis hits, and the whole over the top personality and lifestyle. Plus I love the movie Lilo & Stitch. Stitch Elvis might be my favorite Elvis impersonator. I look at it kind of like the Eiffel Tower- you know it’s going to be underwhelming in person, but you’ve gotta do it while you’re there, right?
I actually really liked the iPad self guided tour they give you- best part: narrated by John Stamos! Uncle Jesse was the ultimate Elvis fan so his voice guiding me through was a clutch choice. They even gave his character a spot as one of the celebrities influenced by the King. Ha!
The mansion was super out of control in the funky decor department. Jungle room with tiki masks and a waterfall? White 10′ leather couch with peacock stained glass? Wall o’ tvs? Game room that looks like a crazy fabric circus tent? Hall of mirrors staircase? Horses and go karts? All yes. The mansion tour ends at the memorial grave area by the pool, and there was for sure a grown man tearing up humming a song to himself. People have covered the brick wall outside Graceland with handwritten messages, too.
Back in the main visitor center area there are buildings full of Elvis’s cars, motorcycles, army gear, outfits, records, and anything else one could imagine. To try to fill more space and justify the high prices they padded it with a Priscilla exhibit, one one on the studio who discovered Elvis, and items owned by celebs who cite Elvis as inspiration- this was a super stretch for me but fun I guess.
After Graceland, it only felt right to try the (probably not accurate) Elvis sandwich- the fried peanut butter and banana on wonder bread. And the internet tells me one of the best spots to get this craziness is the Arcade Restaurant, a site in itself. The Arcade is a 50s/60s style diner that is so authentic still that it’s often used as a movie set. Plus good food, and I don’t mind admitting that my Elvis sandwich was delicious (would be even better with a drizzle of honey I think), though odd paired with the greek salad I got on the side. I sat at the counter next to a lady who ended up being suuuuper chatty and unloaded all her work and life issues, most termite related. Nice lady, good recs for things to do in the city which I am embarrassed to say I promptly forgot most of.
Down the street I spent the rest of the afternoon at the Civil Rights Museum in the Lorraine Motel, site of the MLK assassination. The museum was exquisitely put together and I could have spent the full day there. There was a mix of multimedia, reading, photos, sculpture, and information ranging from the transport of enslaved people to the Americas to the more Black Power movement and Civil Rights Act, with a little more modern info thrown in at the end but that didn’t seem to be the era of focus.
That night I went downtown to Beale Street to check out some music, and I was not disappointed. In all I saw 4 bands at different venues ranging from blues to rock to country, and loved the vibes of each different place. I chatted for a while with a few groups of people, one being a pair of ex-army buddy guys who tried to teach me how to dance unsuccessfully. The street was beautiful all aglow, and I totally indulged in singing ‘Walking in Memphis’ to myself a few times and finding myself very clever on each occasion.
The next morning I walked across the Mississippi from Tennessee to Arkansas and back, which was just the chilly bit of exercise I needed after a night out. Elsewhere in the city I stumbled upon some other funky sites, like a pyramid Bass Pro Shop with hotel inside?!? So unclear why this exists, but it was cool and I almost slept in their parking lot for kicks.
On my route out of town that morning I stopped at a few roadside attractions on the outskirts of the city- one was an old (but still operational) dairy stand with polar bear statues having a snow ball fight for some reason, and the other was a site in a cemetery where this artist created a grotto of religious scenes made from crystals inside a fake mountain tree thing… bizarre but pretty? Who knew cemeteries would be such a wealth of interesting art.
All in all had a wonderful experience at each stop in Tennessee. Going to hop back on the parkway and head south into Mississippi, another new state for me!
Leaving Franklin, TN, just a few miles outside town I hopped on the start of the Natchez Trace Parkway- a beautiful, mainly one lane road running along a long established Native American trail through woods, swamps, farmland, and fields. I followed the parkway south until it left Tennessee and I’d arrived in Florence, Alabama. There didn’t seem to be a lot going on in terms of music that night so I just went straight to this riverside park just off the Parkway. When I arrived it was extremely dark, foggy, and quiet, and a rainstorm was predicted so I was glad to be in a paved lot not under tree cover. I looked up the flooding table and was all good to go even if it rained a lot where I was and the lot was pretty far uphill from the riverbank, so I settled in to sleep.
I was awakened a few times in the night by lightning flashes (rooftop fan cover is like a skylight in terms of keeping out light), and at one point discovered a small leak dripping down from the rear door/roof seal, so I shoved some paper towels in the gap and placed a bowl to catch the drips and back to bed it was. Finally in the morning I got to see the beautiful surrounding river view, the birds, and the bridge. Pretty spot! On my way out of the park I saw a few downed tree limbs and trees, but wasn’t sure whether they were from the past stormy night or from all the rain they’d had in the area in the past month.
Down the river I spent the morning in Muscle Shoals, a town known for its recording studios and music scene. There were/are two major studios in town, one springing from the other, but only one with tours available when I was around, so tour that one I did. The Muscle Shoals Sound studios were founded by a quartet of studio musicians- known as the Swampers- who backed hundreds of famous artists when recording in town. Listening to just some of the classic tracks recorded in the studio was pretty special. I did a drive by of the other studio, Fame, and by a weird metal statue.
Oddly enough, the remainder of my day in the area was not spent finding music or anything of the like, but instead touring a Frank Lloyd Wright house. Called the Rosenbaum House after the owners, this is one example of Wright’s ‘Usonian’ homes designed for ‘middle-income’ Americans. The idea was to have these homes look like they’re naturally emerging from the landscape, remain close to the ground and open to nature, and designed in a sort of build it yourself kit that can be assembled, added onto, etc. with little additional input from the architect (or so I understand from the tour guide lady). Much of the furnishing is built in, probably because Wright didn’t trust people not to mess up his vibe. It was a beautiful home dominated by local cedar, fancified plywood, local red brick, and big glass windows, with intricate, repeating patterns making the space special. Leaky and not heating functional, but beautiful.
I only spent less than 24 hours in one tiny corner of the state, but I was pleasantly surprised by my time in Alabama and all the kind, enthusiastic people I met. One day I’ll be back to see more!
After my day touring Mammoth Cave I arrived in Nashville in time for a great dinner at this cool place in Five Points/East Nashville where I had turnip-noodle pasta that was so good I made actual happy yummy noises eating. Excellent start to a Sunday night, and while eating I googled some options for music that night and came across a random $5 fundraiser for Bernie at a cool club across town with multiple bands, so that sounded pretty weird and like a good way to see a few people (I’m cool with the Bern but wouldn’t be inclined to to to a rally or anything on a usual day). It was at this club called the Exit/In, which gave me a 9:30 club vibe on a smaller scale. I arrived not too long after the show started and it was…. super dead. There were maybe 20 people there, including the handful obviously there with the performer. The first singer was wearing this funny (perhaps intentionally?) Bernie sweatshirt, and the second singer went off on Mayor Pete and Bloomberg, and by the end of that set there were maybe 30 people there, but I was not one of them.
At the show I was talking to this man who had given me directions earlier who was going to see another show on Broadway so I tagged along to that and got a tour of some places downtown. Apparently a lot of the bars and restaurants are branded by famous singers with little to no actual affiliation (sounds uncomfortably like Trump branding), and the first place we went was the Kid Rock place that has 3 floors with different bands playing on each. It was high energy though the band was not super impressive, and the next stop was a place called the Redneck Riviera- hilarious name, great band. While the band took a break we checked out the rooftop with a view of all the lights, which was the first time I really had to talk to the dude I was with, and it wasn’t pretty. He let slip that he had gone to the fundraiser just to see what kind of people would go to a “socialist propaganda event” and was giving off a weird vibe. I am not proud to admit this, but I totally bailed on him with no warning when I went to the bathroom. I mean, I actually tried to go back to say I was leaving but they must have been closing the upper floors for the night and the stairs to go back up were roped off, so it was a sign. Sorry, random guy, not the nicest move, and later I hoped that he didn’t think I got lost or die or whatever. Oops. But better to trust my weirdo-alert sensor and be rude than the alternative, right?
kid rock place
redneck riviera rooftop where that poor guy might still be waiting
place I ducked into waiting for my uber
I actually felt so weird about bailing and knew that he lived downtown near all the touristy thing so I went incognito the next day. Ha. I got up early from my parking spot near Vanderbilt just by this Parthenon building, and went to park by Nissan stadium across the river. I walked over the pedestrian bridge and walked through some of the sights, like the country music walk of fame, then did a tour of the Ryman Auditorium. They have a wonderful movie intro and great exhibits of musicians’ clothes and artifacts, and a lot on the history of the hall and its shows. Plus just a gorgeous, though probably not super comfortable with the whole pew seating situation, venue. I thought about staying another night to see the show that night but don’t know enough Collective Soul, which turned out to be a good thing.
I had a nice long lunch at a vegan restaurant back across town before heading south, where I stopped off in the town of Franklin. Not only had several people and the internet said it’s an enchanting town, I’m collecting namesake place photos, so seemed like a good place for a coffee. I just walked around the main streets for a bit, popping into the bookstore, cafe, and tracking down the post office to get that sweet Franklin postmark on a few cards I was mailing. Random aside: where have all the mailboxes gone?? There was not a single one on any of the streets in town. Oh well.
Fast forward to later that evening when I’d arrived at my next destination, some heavy thunderstorms came through that woke me up a few times and resulted in a small leak on my back door- not a huge deal but something I though I’d fixed by replacing my back top brake light, but now think maybe it’s an old seal along the top of the door. Anyway, not the point. The point is that when I woke up in the morning it was to some kind texts and weather alerts on my phone that a string of tornadoes had come through Tennessee and hit Nashville hard, in some of the areas I’d been parked and eaten the days before. The pic above with the arrow was put up online by the restaurant with the turning noodles of their alley & parking area and neighboring building that got messed up. So even more glad I didn’t stay for that show. Sometimes the universe is on your side.
South from Louisville I went to Mammoth Cave National Park. The largest known cave system in the world, Mammoth Cave stretches over 400 miles and is still being explored and discovered. While visitors can hike, visit the streams and sink holes, and other above ground sites at any time, the cave sections are only accessible on guided tours. I signed up for two, a historical tour in the morning and one focusing on rock formation in the afternoon.
These tours are giant. There were over 100 people on the historic tour and I was glad to be towards the front so I could actually hear everything, though the guide did a great job trying to address everyone. The caves we saw ranged from giant open spaces to tight squeezes to deep drops. We went through a space called Fat Man’s Misery which was a narrow winding section, a low section called Tall Man’s Agony, past the Bottomless Pit which has a thick mud bottom so fallen objects didn’t make a sound, and a waterfall among other sites. It was a very informative tour, and got me excited to see another section later in the day.
Unfortunately, when I went to pick up my ticket for the next tour I found that it had been cancelled. The power in that section of the cave had gone out and wouldn’t be up again that day, and the replacement tour they were adding was the same one I’d just done, so I was out of luck. Disappointed to have not seen more cave, but so glad I wasn’t in the cave when the lights went out. Yikes!
So with a newly freed afternoon ahead of me, I walked around the steam by the visitor’s center, and went on a shirt walk to a sink hole recommended by a ranger. It was cool to see the very bright water basically disappearing into a rock wall as it goes underground into the cave system. It was a beautiful, warm sunny day, prime walking weather.
On my way out of the park I stopped off to see the world’s largest pocket knife, and drove through a town called Pig which was underwhelming and I couldn’t find a town name sign to photograph. A fun way to end my visit to the Bluegrass State!
I had planned to spend a night in the Red River Gorge, but between so much of the park being closed for winter and more snow and freezing temps I called an audible and moved up my arrival in Louisville. A friend who used to be in my book club before she moved for grad school very graciously invited me to stay at her place and was okay with the date change. It was great to see Ashley, Alan, and their doggie Peanut, and hear what they’ve been up to in the years since I’ve last seen them. Seeing all these people with their real grown up lives and houses and matching guest towels, etc. is so interesting compared to my houseless existence- one day maybe I’ll be a real adult too, but probably not. Ha.
We went for a drink and snack at a local brewery in a converted grain storage bin (or something like that- my memory is the worst), and then on to a restaurant downtown adjacent to the minor league baseball stadium where the names and labels of the beers at this place were hilarious, such as ‘the Brown Note’ and ‘Bloody Show’. On the drive to and from I got a mini tour of town, so between that and the long list of suggestions from Alan I was ready with a plan when I left their place the next day.
The first stop a cemetery where not only are Muhammad Ali and Colonel Sanders buried, but also a bunch of elaborate memorial statues. The highlights were a serene spot with a classical monument, a sphinx, a magician, and all sorts of unique memorials. Somewhere in the cemetery is a statue of a little girl swinging on Jesus’ arms but I couldn’t find it, which was a bummer because it sounds like quite the design.
Next up was walking around downtown to see some fun things like the giant baseball bat outside the Louisville Slugger museum, this big troll under an overpass, and some cool street art. I walked past all the bourbon tours which are the big draw here but had no interest in that- blegh. More for you, everyone else.
By the riverside I parked and walked across the Big Four Bridge to Indiana- my first steps in that state as far as I know. Had a coffee, saw a house with a bunch of pig decorations in the yard, headed back, and on the Kentucky side walked around the park a little before heading out. There’s a statue of Lincoln sitting by the river, with a plaque explaining that Lincoln (whose wife was from the area) would come here, and sit and watch as the ships transported slaves, solidifying his aversion to the institution. A moving sculpture, tarnished unfortunately by someone having places a dead pigeon next to him and a paper sign in his hand. Pretty disgraceful. Aside from that, Louisville was an awesome place!
The Van is Go 