Entry #2: Memphis

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After enjoying the Nashville country music scene - a scene based around a genre of music that is, quite honestly, of no real interest to me - I was fairly excited to move onto Memphis, the home of rock and roll, and the birthplace of many a soul star's rise. Unfortunately, my initial foray into this historic town held no such romance or musical power for me, as I found myself thrust from the busy streets and morning sunshine of Nashville, into its neighbour's bitter cold and empty streets.
It was more than two hours (a time that included two visitor centres and more than two bus stops) before Fin and I found ourselves at the correct bus stop, and by the time we had reached our hostel in the out-of-town Cooper-Young neighbourhood, the digits on our hands and feet, had forgotten how to feel.
However, if travelling has taught me any one lesson, it is that - whilst there may never be the opportunity for a second first impression - your first impression is by no means always right. A friendly woman at the last bus stop had told us that the Cooper-Young neighbourhood where we were staying, was home to good restaurants, bars and cafes, and upon reaching South Cooper St, it was obvious that this was no run-down dump with 'character' (the kind of location in which you can expect to find 'out-of-town' hostels), but an interesting crossroads at which to see live music, eat all kinds of food and peruse through odd little antique shops. Our hostel, which was a bargain at only $15 a night, was adjoined to a church and played host to a large homely dining room and several common rooms boasting comfy settees, if not so much in the way of actual guests.
If there is one word/person/thought commonly associated with Memphis, it is of course: Elvis. The man, nay superstar, who chose to reside in his beloved hometown until his untimely death abreast - if we choose to believe the rumours -a lavatory.
More than one person, and some of these local, had expressed to me, the opinion that, at around $30, the Graceland tour is over-priced, and out-done by its cheaper contemporaries: Sun Studios and the Civil Rights, Stax and Rock and Soul museums. My advice? Don't believe it.
From the outside, Graceland may not exude the grandeur that you will probably be expecting, but once inside, you'll find yourself blown away by the shining array of outfits, gold discs and original film posters that recall the very spirit of Elvis. His charisma and charm leap out even from beyond the grave, and it is certainly worth paying an extra $5 to purchase a platinum ticket which will also grant you access to several museums, and Elvis's private car and plane collections.
If you also choose to visit Sun Studios, as I did, you can see the very place where Elvis made his first records, amongst contemporaries such as Roy Orbison, Jerry Lee Lewis and Ike Turner (before he became INfamous, via association with Tina). Knowing little about Elvis should not affect you visiting these places, as they are pieces of Memphis history that will draw you in, whatever your views or knowledge on the King. However, if you find yourself at the mercy of the Memphis public transport system, either be as prepared as possible, or be open-minded to over-priced taxi rides and long non-scenic walks. I won't extrapolate, as I've complained too much already, but suffice it to say, that I have experienced both.
Arrive at Memphis straight from home, and the chances are, that you'll follow the much-aligned tour of the various music-related tourist attractions, such as those mentioned above. But the great benefit of travelling, is that you hear about strange little traditions that can often give away more of a place's real character and quirks than the more expensive, and expansive outings to museums, famous buildings and so on. Such it was that I came to hear of the ducks of the Peabody museum from a fellow backpacker, whilst in New Orleans, and visited the grand old place this afternoon, a full hour in advance of the duckmaster's arrival.
Go to the Peabody Hotel any given day at 11am or 5pm, and find yourself party to a wierd and wonderful spectacle - a ringmaster unfurling a royal red carpet from an old-fashioned elevator to an ornate fountain in the middle of the Peabody bar (if not from fountain to lift), and leading his parade of well-trained ducks from one end to the other, unperturbed by flashing cameras or excitable guests. This is the tradition of Memphis's Peabody hotel, a place evocative of the Shining's Overlook hotel, in its past glory days; where twice a day, this strange little show takes place amongst many welcomed watchers, and not just those who can afford to be guests of the hotel.
Finally, if you go to Memphis, you have to eat South-style, and in this part of town, that invariably leads you to the slow Memphis-style barbeque where ribs cannot be over-looked. Fin and I were advised to visit Central Barbeque, just a couple of blocks down from our hostel. It's a diner-style joint, staffed by tie-dye wearing Tennesseans and filled with pig memorabilia that is reminiscent of Central Barbeque's swine logo. For just over $10 each, we were able to gorge ourselves on a 'slab' of ribs for two, and sides of 'mac n cheese', potato salad and fries. And believe me, this is nothing like the over-priced meat and bones that you might find in an English restaurant. You have to get your hands dirty, and if - like Fin - you enjoy the novelty of food in a basket, then you will love what the South has to offer (minus the obesity factor of course!). But wherever you go, ask locals to suggest places first, and then ask no more, or like us, you will return from your meal satisfied, until another local 'well-wisher' tells you about where you 'should' have gone. Remember that everyone has a different favourite!

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