Thursday, June 14, 2007


I rocked up to Nashville yesterday feeling a bit crazed from the previous four hours. A tractor trailer had blown up on I65, leaving miles of cars stuck behind it. The crafty ones cut across the median to return to the last exit and use 31W instead, which then caused severe swelling on that road as well. For the next hour or so I drove around rural Tennesse trying to tell myself to enjoy the scenery but instead growing more irate with every minute wasted, every centimeter the mercury rose. By the time the temperature hit 100 degrees I had finally made it to Nashville, just in time for rush hour traffic. On six lanes of highway. Who knew Nashville highways resembled those of L.A.?

I'm living the dream all right.

I'm spending my time in Nashville in the home of Sheri, a single mother raising a 15 year old son who is spending the summer with his father. I received his room for my stay, and I fell alseep last night under posters of Led Zeppelin and the Sex Pistols which belong to a boy I've never met.

Sheri also has two cats which she rescued from an animal shelter, one of which had been shot with buckshot and was a little mistrusting of humans. Naturally this is the one I accidentally stepped on.

Part of the joy of couchsurfing is the randomness it introduces. The quirks of another being are plentiful when subjected to them all at once, i.e. when thrust into someone's living space. But it's what makes traveling so much more interesting.

I came to Nashville with no real excitement or anticipation, and maybe as a result got little in return. It was just hot and full of country music. God I hate country music. But when expectations are low or nonexistent, I find the greatest rewards. Sheri, her friend and I went on a hike tonight in a forest outside of Nashville.

It was a simple four mile hike, more of a hearty evening constitutional than anything else, but provided some excellent scenery and wildlife spotting. It was quiet and pleasant and cool. It was everything Nashville was not. Which is not to say I disliked Nashville. It's just that, in this case, it's easy to see the things that outshone it.


Amy said... know what I want to ask you. Just a simple yes or no will suffice :)


Amy said...

P.S. You're doing a great job! I'm reading your blog at work--thanks for giving me something to do!

Dad said...

You hate country music? How can you possibly hate a genre that gave us a song called "I Can't Decide Whether to Kill Myself or Go Bowling"?
And remember those Nashville Cats, they play clean as country water, Nashville Cats, play wild as mountain dew. (I know, I'm dating myself here. Who the heck remembers the Lovin' Spoonful?)

Valerie O'Shea said...

I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I've heard of the Lovin' Spoonful. And from that comment alone, I'd like to declare awesomness upon your father.

keep up the good work, scott.

Scotticus said...

Haha... the answer is no.

Thanks for the encouragement everyone.