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Nashville. The theme of mist travel stories is quite familiar. A spectacular explosion of new experiences, all life changing. It is true that money spent on travel in nearly all instances outpaces expectations. We all have garages, desk drawers and basements full of gizmos which came with a promise of a better life. We all have dashed expectations from these follies. Travel seldom so cruelly or predictably disappoints. On the other hand travelers are also contaminated with “euphoric recall.” A predilection to recall many events more favorably than rational. This phenomenon explains why women have more than one child. With this underbrush cleared, let me talk about my recent short maiden voyage to Nashville. It’s gorgeous country. I spend my time in the West where getting things to grow is hand to hand warfare. Here, everything seems to grow and grow wild. Music. There is music everywhere. Lots of it bad. Much good. Much good. And done excellent. Booze. They make very very good whiskey around here. I’v had some if the best. Booker’s and Angel’s Breath come to mind. Makes me doubt my scotch fixation. Food. Here’s where I tread lightly. I did not find it very inspiring. Thus my dining will remain anonymous. No reason to make enemies. Catfish at my local chain restaurant was better. It all tasted like Mexican food cooked by a Lutheran Church youth director in Ely Minnesota. Gringos cannot cook Mexican. Yankees cannot cook good Southern food. None of their food tasted like a real Southerner ever touched it. Next time I’ll get better tips. Grand Ole Opry. I would recommend the Opry and recommend total immersion. Tre preShow, the Show and the Post Show. We met one of the Legends. Whisperin’ Bill Anderson. He was as nice as you would expect. The Opry has a home in a mall 15 miles out of town which sounds worse than it is. They’ve got room to spread out and handle the summer crowds. A tour backstage. It’s a good home for a nice blend of history and efficiency. But, if I had to do it again I would wait until the winter. The crowds contract to a size suitable for the Oprey’s mothership and ancestral home—the Ryman Auditorium in downtown Nashville. I stood on the stage. Imaging what a real concert in this sacred hall would be like became overwhelming. The real treasure of this town are the people. They have created a culture where higher education; medicine; music; finance and commerce have regional hubs in sky scrapers all over town. It’s ten minutes and twenty bucks from downtown to the airport. Not immune, but nearly so from the blights of many downtowns, makes it very walkable. Especially over and along the Cumberland River. The people are all friendly. The pace is gentle. The scars from the recent hurricane are being mitigated. It’s a town attuned to its service and entertainment economic pillars, and tends to the task of their maintenance. I will return, in the winter. Opry at the Ryman and a better handle in where to eat.