Walking in Memphis

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The journey South from St Louis gave plenty of indications that I was heading down into the Bible belt; roadside billboards with Bible quotations, people wearing non ironic Jesus related t shirts and fields of gravestones symbolising the number of babies 'murdered' through abortions in the state of Tennessee on a daily basis. All of which freaked me out a bit I have to say.

When I arrived in Memphis, I hailed a cab and asked to be taken to my hotel in West Memphis. Which I didn't realise up until this point was not only a whole different town, but was in a different state entirely (Arkansas) and a cab ride would set me back $35. Even worse, there was no public transport between the 2 towns (even though they're not actually that far from each other - they're separated by the width of the Mississippi), so I was faced with the prospect of paying $210 over the course of the weekend in taxi rides alone.

On the Saturday, I decided I had to bite the bullet and grab a taxi over the river. Once there, I walked up to the Sun recording studios where Elvis, Johnny Cash and a number of others recorded some of their most famous hits. From Sun, I took the shuttle bus up to Graceland. Although not an Elvis fan at all, I thought I should check it out.

The house was heaving with tourists, even at this time in their low season. It was also nowhere near as big as I thought it would be, it's pretty modest when you consider the kind of place he could have bought. Decor-wise though it was just as tacky as I expected, though I'm unsure whether this is testament to the lack of taste of Elvis or the 1970's in general.

After the house tour, I had a quick look at his cars and his private jets, then thought about purchasing a Hunk of Flaming Love jumpsuit, but the $3,500 price tag put me off. Though I would have looked great in it.

The Sun records shuttle bus then took me back into town, to Beale Street, which is where most of the blues bars are situated. It reminded me a bit of Camden but without drug dealers offering me smack as soon as I set foot out of the cab. There must be 20 or so bars in the space of a couple of blocks, all of which have music blaring out of them. Not knowing where to start, I went into the nearest one, BB Kings Blues Club where I watched an old blind dude sing the blues as only old blind dudes can.

I was enjoying the show until the 2 girls next to me asked for my photo. At first I assumed they thought I was someone famous, but in fact they just thought I was cute. And they also gave creedence to the idea that American women love the English accent - on hearing mine, one told me she had creamed her panties, which I assume to be a good thing. Sadly they weren't my type (and I was a bit scared by now) so I made my excuses before I got violated.

On the Sunday, being too tight to fork out another $70 in taxis, I stayed in and did laundry, played Golden Tee in the arcade over the road and remedied any homesickness I was feeling by watching some god awful British TV; May to December, As Time Goes By and Waiting for God. I hope the Americans don't think this is all we have to offer.

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Photos

GL
Graceland. Not as good as my house.

DR
Elvis dining room, presumably where he ate his bacon and peanut butter sarnies.

Car
The King's pink cadillac. I reckon JC would look good in this.

grave
Elvis Lives! Actually, clearly not if this is anything to go by.