Nashville. Blog 1 (about five weeks in)

I have been travelling now for somewhere in the region of five to six weeks, and am only now realising my long-formulated plans of blog-writing. Better late than never, I suppose.
So, I guess that I should begin with a brief introduction about my trip for the legions of fans that I'm sure this blog will captivate. Where to start? In brief, I am travelling through the Americas - having begun in New York and San Francisco - and now working my way to Miami, from whence I'll be flying to Mexico, busing through Central America, and eventually flying to Rio to commence a lengthy (and somewhat unstructured) tour of South America. Travelling with me is my friend Fin, and together we are the deaf (her) leading the blind (me). We have so far managed to avoid passport loss, rape and sleeping on the street, which really is quite commendable considering our combined ineptitude.
We arrived at our current destination of Nashville, Tennessee three nights ago, following our most joyless Greyhound journey yet. Stopping at 2.40am and then 6.40am in lustreless stations with cruel chairs and strung-out fellow passengers is not an experience that I can honestly say has helped me to grow as a person, but such times are to be expected when utilising America's least desirable transport company.
Our hostel, is small and cosy; being located in 'music city,' it is home to staff and long-term guests who like to 'entertain' other guests with their guitar-strumming and supposedly unconscious pitch-perfect humming (read: singing along loudly to the country music tv channel). These minor annoyances are easily made up for by free all-day breakfasts, and an 'honour system' of paying for internet, laundry and sodas, of which I am taking advantage of to I write this very blog.
On our first full day in Nashville Fin and I visited the Tennesse State Museum, which housed an interesting collection of relics and re-constructions of people and things relating to such topics as the Civil and Indian wars, homesteaders and country music's history. Upon finding myself estranged from Fin, and sitting alone to watch a video about the history of African-Americans, I was approached by a black security guard. He asked me where I was from and promptly informed me that I knew nothing about the history of slavery. I'm not sure if this assumption was based on my age, or nationality, but I corrected him with the assertion that I had - 'actually' - studied slavery in school, and that I was indeed from a city (Bristol), largely built on the fruits of slave labour. He told me that his (great?) Grandmother had been born of slaves and lived to be 104 years old; pretty interesting stuff potentially, but there was no further elaboration. He walked away; I guess he'd said his piece.
I'm slightly ashamed - but not regretful - to admit, that since the afore-mentioned visit to the museum, our cultural intake in Nashville has been limited to seeing live music whilst out drinking with fellow hostellers. This, of course, is a worthy way to spend time in Nashville, as nearly every bar on the main strip of Broadway, is home to live bands of varying degrees of quality, entertaining a highly unusual demographic of middle-aged, cowboy-hat wearing, denim-clad, Country and Western enthusiasts. As a person with no real interest in, or knowledge of the said genre of music, I can honestly say that the general atmosphere and love of C+W, by so many here at live venues, is enough to infect even the most hostile of city-dwellers. Don't get me wrong, I won't be donning a mic and cowboy hat (well maybe the latter) anytime soon, but even without possessing a desire to add any country tunes to my MP3 player, I would most definitely recommend Nashville as a live music city to see.

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