day two: a day in nashville
adventures
after a fantastic travel day visiting serpent mound and mammoth caves, i rolled into nashville excited to land in the airbnb i had carefully picked out for its aesthetics. but when i first walked in, it smelled overwhelmingly moldy. i walked back out to the car and into the cottage again, and it was still there. i’ve always had a sensitivity to mold—when i was a cheesemonger in my hometown year ago, i could always smell when cheese had gone from the good kind of stinky to the bad—and i was a bit devastated that this lovely place was not somewhere i could spend any amount of time. i quickly communicated with the understanding host and booked a new spot—a seemingly tidy but soulless condo on the other side of town.
when i punched in the door code, i whispered, “please don’t be stinky,” and it wasn’t. it was, however, as i expected, both tidy and soulless. i found myself harshly judging the cheap furniture and horridly neutral decor, and felt, once again overwhelmed—but this time, by my truly stinky attitude. i was frustrated that my plan was taken off course, and that what i expected had not come into reality. i put myself to bed like a grumpy child, and tried to have faith i would wake up in a better mood.
in the morning, i did wake up feeling well-rested, but i also rolled over and rolled my eyes at a cheesy throw pillow on the bed next to me. i did a bit of distracted work on my computer and postponed doing my morning yoga routine until it was time to leave for a tour i had lined up at a local clothing maker, elizabeth suzann.
the space where the company is based out of is so incredibly lovely. i met my tour guide, alexandra, in the staff dining area, which she explained was thoroughly, thoughtfully designed. then she walked me through the entire process of how their clothing is made, from customer orders to cutting to sewing to quality control to boxing and shipping. i found myself inspired in a new way—when i was a small-business owner, i used to see inspirational companies and mine their processes for bits i could integrate into my own. but during this tour of ES, i was just enjoying the aesthetics and systems in an appreciative way. with only online sales and no retail store on site, i wasn’t able to purchase anything, and maybe that added to my pure enjoyment of the tour.
when i left the elizabeth suzann building, i realized it had started raining. my plan had been to go on a hike with friday straight from the ES tour, so i cued up a weather app to see when it would be best to spend time outside. i let out an audible exhale when i saw 100% rain for the next 24 hours, and even said aloud, “of COURSE it’s raining.”
with my wipers beating on the windshield, i decided to visit another business i was told i would love, imogene + willie, and to see if the rain might ease up after a bit. like elizabeth suzann, I+W was also so very lovely, and housed in a former gas station—which was a long-time dream space of mine for a flower shop and plant store.
i have been trying to be more aware of where items come from and purchasing in a sustainable way, so the ethos of the shop was right up my alley. i was surprised to find myself disappointed by not wanting to purchase anything in particular—as if i couldn’t just enjoy the experience like i did at elizabeth suzann without a transaction. i almost bought a pair of socks with lightning bolts on them just to have a familiar interaction. i guess i’ll have to think a while on these themes of consumerism, supporting independent makers, and non-transactional experiences.
it was raining even harder when i left imogene + willie, so i thought it would be a good time to get some groceries. (this trip isn’t about finding the hottest restaurants in the cities i’m visiting; it’s about sustainable, healthy habits. thusly, groceries > restaurants.) as i navigated nashville to find a whole foods, i was once again struck with a feeling of disappointment—how easily i can shop at the exact same grocery story i shop in at home, and how all the businesses along the way are also in detroit and every other city in the US. my visits to elizabeth suzann and imogene + willie were so special, and crafted, and authentic. of course, those words are nearly cliché now, but i use them specifically and with thought here. in the nashville whole foods, i shopped, finding products i buy at home, and was recognized at the register by scanning my amazon account QR code. i shuffled out to the car in the ceaseless rain, and harumphed into the driver’s seat. i took a deep breath, and let out a very different audible exhale as the defeated one earlier after the news of 100% rain. i gave myself a talking to—recalling what intentions i have for this trip and that it’s about sustainability, inspiration, and health and the juxtaposition of movement and stillness. i drove the groceries back to my tidy, soulless airbnb. i found my raincoat and boots, and loaded friday and i back into the car and pointed us to the trail i had picked out earlier, imagining a sunny, warm day hike.
when we arrived at the mossy ridge trailhead, it was raining, and it never stopped for our entire 5 mile hike. it rained while we walked up and down mossy, craggy hillsides, and it kept raining when i got us lost and couldn’t find the car, and it was still raining when it started to get dark and i realized my phone was dead.
when i finally found the car, friday and i were completely soaked and quite muddy, but my attitude had lightened. there’s something about walking, for me, that gives me access to that space where movement and stillness intersect. i don’t sit still very well, so i have trouble accessing a quiet mind. my hack is that if i’m moving to the beat of my own feet, my mind can hop in at double time, be somewhere else completely, or just watch the ground go by. the only photo i took on our hike before my phone powered down was a small plaque, which i found very jenny o’dell, and very apropos.
arriving ‘home’ at the airbnb formerly known as tidy and soulless, friday and i dried off and had dinner. i felt thankful for the warm, clean space, and laughed when i ran across an article in the new yorker, now six years old, that they reposted while i was on my attitude adjustment hike: why walking helps us think.
logistics
music—a few new songs on the evolving road trip playlist