Advertisement
Published: September 1st 2009
September 1st 2009 Curled up on the porch at the Mountain Light Sanctuary near Asheville, North Carolina and reflecting on the past two weeks since I left Little Rock, Arkansas, I am stunned to realise quite how much has happened. How on earth can I condense it into just a few short paragraphs? Well, here goes…
You can kill the dreamer, but you will never kill the dream Arriving in Tennessee from the West, you cross the Mississippi river on the Hernando De Soto Bridge, and are treated to a momentary glimpse of Memphis’s downtown skyline running along the east bank of the mighty river. To your left a huge glass pyramid adorns the horizon, ‘a symbolic link to Egypt’s Nile Delta’ (I stole that line from the Rough Guide to the USA, p.550). I didn’t stop in downtown, but let Pamela guide me through the web of freeways stretching out to the east towards my next stop: the home of the venerable Mr and Mrs Donnelly, or as they are more affectionately known, Auntie Boobie and Unkin Don. My godparents.
For ten days we explored the great city of Memphis. First stop: Mud Island. It’s difficult to
explain why, but this is one of my favourite places in the world. Maybe it’s the monorail which takes you over to the Island, which is located in the middle of the Mississippi River? Or maybe it’s the wonderful museum laying out the history of the ‘Big Muddy’? Or maybe it has something to do with the awesome scale model of the Mississippi which I loved running through as a child? I think, maybe, it is the latter! I paddled again this time and, following a long-established Holly tradition, had my picture taken under the North Carolina sign.
Next, a requisite stop at Lorraine Hotel on Mulberry Street. Why? Dr Marin Luther King Jr was assassinated here on April 4th 1968. Today the hotel houses the outstanding National Civil Rights Museum. Whilst the plight of the Native Americans is not to be forgotten - just yesterday I drove through the Cherokee Indian Reservation from which the tribe was removed along the infamous Trail of Tears to Oklahoma in 1838 - the history of the African Americans is now at the forefront of my mind. I struggle to understand how previous generations, just a few decades ago, could have had
such an entrenched belief in white superiority. It is even more staggering to think that some individuals continue to hold to these beliefs today. Battles have raged in town halls across America this summer supposedly reflecting differing opinions about the proposed health care reforms; yet I am inclined to agree with some commentators who suggest that some individuals are using the opportunity to publicly vocalise their dislike of a black president. It’s only a theory, but one that has some truth in it, to my mind at least. James Earl Ray may have killed the dreamer, but 40 years on the dream is still alive and at the very least today the ignorant, as Dr King once gently called those who convinced themselves that slavery and racial segregation was the world’s natural order, are the minority rather than the overwhelming majority.
Onwards and upwards to the Pink Palace with its fantastic exhibition detailing the history of Memphis. I must admit to not thinking too much of the displays - they seemed a little confused and poorly marked - until I realised we were walking around the exhibition the wrong way. If you ever end up in the Pink Palace,
start with the wildlife exhibition and work your way upstairs. It’ll make perfect sense that way!!
The penultimate stop on the tourist train was Graceland, Memphis’s golden boy’s famous home. I’ve never been a fan of Elvis’ music and had him down as somewhat of a bad boy! Having seen his home and the cluster of exhibits about him, I would now say he was a workaholic: between the music, the acting and flying to Dallas to eat peanut butter and banana sandwiches, I’m sure he rarely had time to sleep let alone get up to anything naughty. Otherwise, I can’t say I really appreciated ‘the wiggly one’s’ taste in home furnishings. I admit it was late 60s décor, and I actually really liked his parents’ bedroom which reminded me of Melanie’s house, but a rainforest living room is just a little over the top. Even for Elvis. But
THE COOLEST THING about visiting Graceland was to find out Auntie Boobie danced with Elvis here. Outside by the pool. During a watermelon party. Now seriously, how awesome is that!!!
Finally, on a balmy Friday morning, Auntie Boobie and I visited some of Memphis’s Victorian homes. We were led
Trolley marks the spot
The exact spot where Auntie Boobie danced with Elvis!around the beautifully restored Woodruff Fontaine House by the aged Ruth, and then we trespassed to have a quick look around the neighbouring house which was abandoned long ago. It’s a shame that these gems of architectural and social history are left to decay, but unless more people win the lottery and pay to have them renovated, it’s unlikely the city is going to cough up the cash needed.
Memphis has so much more to offer out-of-towners, for example, tea at the Peabody Hotel, nights out on Beale Street, visiting the music studios which are responsible for the birth of rock ‘n’ roll, the zoo, trips on the river. I could go on. But I won’t. I’m not a tourist guide. Instead I’m going to talk about my favourite subject: food.
Eat your heart out! The only real problem with the South is the food. It’s all delicious, it’s all pretty much fried, and it all makes you put on weight. There was steak expertly cooked by Unkin Don on the BBQ, there was BBQ pulled pork (a Memphis special) at Corkys, there was roast beef, hamburgers, BBQ ribs (again thanks to Unkin Don), chicken, more burgers
and pasta. And that’s just for dinner. For breakfast we had pancakes, waffles, donuts (twice!), scrambled eggs, fried eggs, hashbrowns, more pancakes, more eggs, and more bacon than you can even begin to imagine. And to think we even stopped for lunch and snacks… Last but not least, I had incredible Eggs Benedict for a fabulous, jazz-filled brunch at Boscos. Umm-umm. Actually, there's one more thing to discuss. Grits!
How can I describe grits? It has been likened to cream o' wheat. Which probably means as little to most non-Americans as it did to me? One thing is for sure, it's a Southern delicacy, and my godmother being a fantastic cook and a native Southerner - not a Native American, but the fifth generation of her family to live in Memphis - was the ideal person to make them for me. Turns out to be a kind of porridge made from ground corn. And it's not the first time I have had it. Russians eat a lot of porridge, including this corn-based version. It's the type of porridge I find disturbing to look at (some of you will know what I am talking about, the rest of you will
Jenny opens the door to her new home
Assuming she wins the lottery one day and can afford to renovate it have to live in ignorant bliss), but it tastes good. Far more acceptable than eating biscuits and gravy.....
A trip down memory lane Although doing the tourist thing and eating like a horse was heavenly, I have to say the best part of my visit to Memphis was just spending time with my godparents. I know this is supposed to be a travel blog, but visiting family is part of my travels. These two wonderful people lived across from my parents in California in the mid-1970s. Spending their Friday nights together cemented a lifelong friendship. Unlike my mother, who said she never remembered much from those years, Auntie Boobie and Unkin Don have plenty of funny stories to tell about my parents' life together, filling in some blanks for me, and reminding me quite how much I take after both my parents. I also found out I am not the first in my family to drive across country in a little (?!) blue car. On her quest to find another photograph, Auntie Boobie unearthed a picture of the blue Corvette (?) my parents stuffed to the rafters and then drove cross country. Makes Betty Boy look decidely empty! She
also found the original of a photo which always sat in my mom's bedroom. At least half of it did. The half with my dad in. Turns out it was a picture of the two of them - one of only a handful that I now have of them together - at a Marine Corps ball. What a find!
Doing things Nashville-style Was it really only Saturday when I (yet again) packed up my freshly cleaned and serviced car (thank you Unkin Don!) and (yet again) found myself driving eastwards on I-40?? It seems like such a long time ago! My final stint on I-40 took me to the heart of Nashville, the home of country music. Driving around downtown on a Saturday afternoon was very similar to being in downtown Memphis - it's was spookily quiet. Maybe during the week it is busier with people working? Walking to the Country Music Hall of Fame was anything but quiet! Whilst I was rather disappointed with the exhibits, the Hall of Fame does provide a detailed history of country music, from its roots in folk music and the like. Much better, I say, to go to bar, order a beer
and listen to some live music instead?! Which is what I did. Arriving at the Music City hostel (which is very nice and clean) I found a small group of people sitting on the deck, drinking some beer, talking about going out that evening. Talk about fate! An awesome night out ensued, mainly at Roberts on Broadway where we danced along to Brazilbilly playing all kinds of country music, followed by a trip to the 24-hour Cafe Coco where we seemed to have missed a hiphop concert but managed to polish off some amazing chocolate cheesecake and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. What better way to end the night!
A few hours later I was back at Cafe Coco in search of perfect hangover food before departing north to Kentucky. My mom always said that Kentucky was the most beautiful state she visited, so it follows that I would make a slight detour up there. I am very glad I took the time!
Horses, fences and two of everything Kentucky is the bluegrass state, thanks to the type of grass which grows there. Although I knew in advance that the blue haze was normally only visible in
springtime, I was pleasantly surprised to find much of the pastureland covered in a rich maroon colour. Well, it was brown, but my sunglasses put a lovely tint on everything, including brown grass! With horses grazing in white picket-fenced pastures, Kentucky is everything the tour books say it will be. I stopped first at the Mammoth Caves, the world's largest cave system. I love visiting superlatives. Going down into the caves a cacophony of 'oohs', 'aaahs', 'this is awesome', 'this is SO cool' reverberated around the cave shafts. The power of nature - just dripping water - is really quite stupendous.
Having fulfilled my nature quote for the next few days, I headed on to Lexington, in the process passing the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln and the National Corvette Museum (just in case you are interested?). My night in Lexington was less than spectacular. After choosing to see a very sad movie at the cinema, I headed back to my campsite only to find that I was the only one there and so - too scared to stay by myself - I packed up and moved to a dodgy motel. To top it off, I found that whilst chilling
on the deck in Nashville I had been attacked by a mosquito. So, picture me sitting in a dirty, creepy motel, scratching at myself whilst eating a McDonalds. That was
my Sunday night. How was yours?!
Yesterday morning I got up late, stuffed myself with waffles and sped out of Lexington as quickly as the speed restrictions would let me. Half an hour later I found myself in Pleasant Hill. What a pleasant hill it was! Home to a restored Shaker village, I spent two hours wandering around, taking photos, breathing in sweet fresh air and enjoying the sun on my skin. If you ever find yourself in Kentucky, I would recommend a detour to Pleasant Hill. Other than having a Shaker style kitchen at home, I knew nothing about their way of life. Only two things really stuck with me from the village: firstly, they were strictly celibate, to the point where each house had two sets of stairs - one for men and one for women! Secondly, they were extremely efficient and strived for perfection. Whilst the rest of the world considers them hillbillies, the Shakers actually had running water systems inside their homes a whole 60
years before the president ever did! They also kept pigs all over their houses to hang things from - brooms, pots, pans, chairs. Making it easier to clean the floor. Or at least I that's what I thought the tour guide said. Dear Jim Bob (that's my name for him) is a local. His local accent makes his pronunciation of words vastly different from mine. I was confused to hear that they hung chairs on pigs until I realised he was actually saying
pegs!
Sin in haste, repent at leisure The Shakers were a religious bunch, as it would seem most of Kentucky is. Listening to the radio you can choose between country and Christian rock. There is little else. Similar to Tennessee, Kentucky is riddled with churches. This is truly the bible belt. Billboards on the side of the freeway remind you Jesus lives, Jesus loves you, Hell exists, You can be saved, and that abortion is a sin. At the same time you can't help but notice the huge adverts for adult books stores and gift shops. It does make me chuckle!
My only sin yesterday was to start with waffles and finish with Kentucky Fried
Chicken. But how could I pass up the opportunity to eat at the original KFC restaurant, the Sanders Cafe?! The Rough Guide warned me it is now just a regular KFC with a small museum attached, so I didn't have high hopes. The restaurant was a dive, but the food was excellent. Instead of the standard french fried you normally get, this place had mashed potatoes and gravy, coleslaw, green beans, sweetcorn or baked beans on the menu. The chicken wasn't bad either! But the icing on the cake, the drive-through bank across the street! Never used one before, and probably won't again. Talk about novelty...
They really do smoke... After the excitement of KFC and the bank I was in a hurry to get back into Tennessee and across to North Carolina where I was planning to spend the night at the Mountain Light Sanctuary in the Pigsah National Forest. It was already 3pm, so I knew I was unlikely to make it before nightfall. As it happens, I was right. A 50 mile detour (thanks to my own silly self for taking a wrong turn and then not realising for 30 miles) left me on the west
side of the Great Smokey Mountains just as the sun was setting. In the fading light, the sight of the 'smoke' billowing from the treetops was mystical. It was a tremendous drive. For about 20 minutes. And then it was dark. Pitch black. No street lights. No other traffic. And I still had about 40 miles to go. Thankful to get to the other side of the mountains, I then realised I would have to find the Sanctuary in the dark too. The Sanctuary, of course, being in the middle of bloody nowhere. I guess that's the point of a sanctuary? Peace? Solitude?
I drove further and further into the darkness, following the directions to a T. I wasn't too scared (only a little) until I passed the last house in the nearest village and started into the National Forest. I had to find an unmarked unpaved track on the right hand side. Would I miss it? What have I gotten myself into?! I found the track, drove another half a mile and came to a bridge. Exactly where I was supposed to be. It was
pitch black. I was terrified. I dove out of the car, across the
bridge, up the stone steps and into the Sanctuary garden. Flashlight was bobbing up and down like something out of the Blair Witch Project (which I admit to never having seen because I am too scared). My nerves barely made it. But I am so thankful they did.
The trek here was worth every moment. Nestled in a small, forested valley between two mountains, the Mountain Light Sanctuary (www.mtnlightsanctuary.com/index.htm) is stunning. The house is quirky and wonderful, with the option of sleeping outdoors in large, 4-poster beds or in treehouses, in hammocks or safely tucked inside a normal room. Guess which option I took! The gardens and balconies are adorned with an array of country garden flowers, attracting birds, bees and butterflies. Shame I am only here until tomorrow, but Atlanta International Airport is beckoning. It's time to pick up Uncle David and Auntie Denny and continue on this Southern adventure!
Advertisement
Tot: 0.319s; Tpl: 0.022s; cc: 11; qc: 52; dbt: 0.1236s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
Auntie Boobie
non-member comment
so enjoyable!!
Jenny, if I never give you any more advice (that will never happen), I must say, "writing is your gift from God" If you only knew what a gift and talent you have for putting music to words. You have the ability to paint the most beautiful portrait with words that I have ever read, your blog has really touched me Jenny, I feel that I have been on this trip with you since you left Memphis, girl! start thinking about writing....you have it babe!!