It’s a little bit/lot country, it’s a little bit rock and roll. It’s Nashville. And, much like Austin, it’s hotter than Dolly Parton’s enormous breasts. We spent four nights in the city that birthed some of country’s greats. And being that I really don’t like country music, it should come as a huge surprise that this was a place I wanted to visit. But just go with it.

We got an Airbnb in East Nashville. It was nice being in an actual house with rooms to move around in and a kitchen to cook in. No offense, Airstream. Because I really do love you.

After we dropped off our bags we decided to walk to the grocery store. Rookie mistake in the Nashville humidity. By the time we made it to the sweet, sweet nectar of AC, which was only a 20-minute walk, we were dripping sweat and greeted with this sign.

I don’t need to tell you that we arrived on a Sunday. F. Why don’t you just take away my birthday already? Who doesn’t sell wine on Sundays? Nashville, that’s who. Time to whine the entire walk home…

We spent the rest of the day just chilling in our house. We were mighty tired from getting up at 5am to catch our early flight out of Austin. So we couched it up and watched Aaron Paul’s (mediocre) new show on Hulu. And it pains me to say this, because I love Jesse Pinkman more then Heisenberg loved his hat…but don’t watch it. I’m not even go to tell you the name. Because I forgot it – that’s how unmemorable it was.

 

The next morning we tried a yoga studio that was within walking/uber-since-it-was-so-hot distance. We should’ve known a studio called Hot Yoga of East Nashville would be a doozy, but we figured we weren’t doing the hot-hot class, but the power class which was a tad cooler. Right? Wrong. By the end we were dripping in sweat and Craig looked like he jumped in a pool with all his clothes on. Sweatiness aside, we loved the class and studio. If only we went back to use our other 9 classes from our new student pack. Oh, well. It’s too hot for hot yoga.

And next? Next, we…. See, this is what happens when you don’t write shit down or blog right away. Because to be honest, I really don’t remember what we did that day. I’m sure it involved walking around, sweating a lot, and then drinking. There, day done.

We had some great food when we were in Nashville. The second night we ate at The Treehouse in East Nashville. They have tons of vegetarian options and a cool vibe. Yes, there’s a treehouse in the back. No, we didn’t sit in it because a storm came rolling through.

But the food was delicious. I’m talking top five of dinners we’ve had this trip. It even had the prettiest potty-room I’ve ever seen. Books in the bathroom is brilliant. It makes me want to poop like right now just so I can stay in there and read.

The next day we booked a tour Craig found called Nash Trash. I can’t recommend this tour enough. Crap, that reminds me to write a TripAdvisor review. Glitter. Ok. Two sisters (appropriately named the Jugg Sisters) take you around in a big pink bus and give you the dirt on Nashville through songs and rants. It’s funny and vulgar, which is right up my alley. Even better, you can bring booze on the bus.

After the giggles we explored downtown Nashville and hit up the home of the honky tonk, Broadway Street. It’s pretty much lined with bars that have live music spilling out onto the street. We first stopped in at Layla’s and watched a kickass band who was made up of two old dudes and two young dudes, just like *NSYNC, but not. They did twangy covers of Michael Jackson and then just jammed on.

The Jugg Sisters recommended Tootsies as the must-visit bar on this street, and since we always do what we’re told, away we went. Luckily it was only three doors down. Boob. Sweat. Is. Happening.

Drinks were overpriced compared to Layla’s but, and a BIG but, they had a band that did an awesome cover of Dolly Parton’s Jolene, so I forgive them. I may not love country, but I love me some Dolly.

Next we moved, you guessed it, one door down to a bar recommended by my old hairdresser.

Robert’s was rad. A wall covered in cowboy boots, dirt-cheap drinks and bitchin’ music. Sold. Our fave.

But time to leave the hustle and bustle and head back to our side of the tracks. We had our Uber driver drop us off at the restaurant right next to our place and we devoured some Mexican food. Drunk. I think it was good. Maybe.

All in all, we dug Nashville. It was no Austin, but it was rockin’ time.

Last call. Our final stop in the U.S. takes us to the East Coast for some cabin time and some wicked Bahston cahfee.