Understandably, our one and only night in a bed until New Orleans required us to sleep in. This, however, was not the best plan because we had a 6+ hour drive through OK, AR and into Memphis. We got out the door about 10am and left behind the Sooner State as quick as possible. Finally, the moment had come, we were entered the Deep South. The home of confederate ancestors, the birthplace of the mullet, the land where all pigs come to die (gotta love those pork ribs).
Arkansas was noticeably more attractive than OK. The hills rolled green and thin forests lined the highway. Lunch was approaching and since we weren’t going to stay the night in AR we decided that we should at least grab some food. After some extensive Yelping we determined that in Fort Smith, AR there just might possibly be some amazing Viet food. It seemed an odd choice in the land of BBQ and fried chicken, but we figured that we’d have enough of that in the days to come.
We stopped at Pho Vietnam, which was housed in an old gas station that still had the disconnected pumps in the concrete out front. The restaurant was an odd amalgamation of Viet and Dixie. They had a fish tank with no fish in it, but rather dolls and a confederate flag. Additionally, they had both a singing deer head and fish nailed to the wall. I asked Mylinh if the owners were really Viet (often these places are run by Chinese people) and she said they were, but that they spoke viet with, get this, a southern twang. The food was pretty good, but the pho broth was quite sweet.
We continued on through AR and got into Memphis just as night fell. We were staying in a state park that was located in the southwest corner of the city. It was a nice change because usually state parks with camping are located far from major cities. We set up camp and headed out for the night.
We weren’t sure what to expect. It was clear that we had crossed over into a different world. The billboards showed fetuses and asked for mercy, the people spoke with a slow twang that was like another language, the liquor stores had drive-thrus, but refused to sell on Sundays.
When we got to downtown Memphis our eyes lit up and our hearts began to beat rapidly. It was everything we had hoped for. Beale Street, the main boulevard of Memphis, was blocked off from cars and filled with blues bars, beer, and It. The “it” that Dean Moriarty spoke of in On the Road. The “it” that encompasses cool, amazing, magnificent, soul, - a feeling of seeing the physical manifestation of an idea whose time had come.
We strolled onto the street and instantly blues riffs poured out of bars and into our hearts. Our ears lifted up and we roamed the land looking for drinks and Leadbelly’s twelve bars. Within minutes we had beers in our hands and blues on the mind. Every bar had a band or at least a guitarist showing off his chops.
We chose to be as touristy as possible and decided that since we were in Memphis only once, we’d better head into BB King’s Blues Club. It was actually a pretty cool place, filled with both tourists and locals. The house band was good, with a female singer blowin’ the roof off, but the main attraction was great. Ronnie Barker Brooks is a blue guitarist who definitely knew his way up and down the frets. He plucked and played and worked the crowd to a height. The solos were great and we left with smiles on our faces.
The next morning we were still talking about the amazing coolness and the “It” that Memphis’ Beale Street contained. The feel of the street was contagious and we were sad that we were leaving town later that day. We headed off for the National Civil Rights Museum realizing that we were about to see another much sadder part of the south.
The National Civil Rights Museum was possibly one of the best historical museums I have ever visited. It is housed in the Lorraine Hotel in which Martin Luther King was assassinated in 1968. Deceivingly small looking from the outside, we ended up spending almost 3 hours looking at the exhibit. It took viewers from the slave riots of the 1700s all the way up through modern day struggles, with the climax and majority of the presentation devoted to the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 60s.
It was extremely inspiring and informative and left me in awe of the struggle that was taken on by African Americans. Nothing was particularly new for me as I had learned much of this history in high school and college classes, but to have it brought all together in one place was particularly revealing of the long and turbulent history of this battle for human rights. I was a little worried that it would be a glib look at this history, but it was thoughtful and deep and was a place that I think everyone should visit.
Actually getting to walk into the room that MLK stayed in the day he was shot was eerie. They had preserved the room as it had been on that day with its scattered coffee cups and cigarette butts. The exhibit also contained a fascinating look at the different conspiracy theories that surrounded MLK’s assassination. There was no idea left uncovered and they even had each piece of evidence presented at James Earl Ray’s trial.
Arkansas was noticeably more attractive than OK. The hills rolled green and thin forests lined the highway. Lunch was approaching and since we weren’t going to stay the night in AR we decided that we should at least grab some food. After some extensive Yelping we determined that in Fort Smith, AR there just might possibly be some amazing Viet food. It seemed an odd choice in the land of BBQ and fried chicken, but we figured that we’d have enough of that in the days to come.
We stopped at Pho Vietnam, which was housed in an old gas station that still had the disconnected pumps in the concrete out front. The restaurant was an odd amalgamation of Viet and Dixie. They had a fish tank with no fish in it, but rather dolls and a confederate flag. Additionally, they had both a singing deer head and fish nailed to the wall. I asked Mylinh if the owners were really Viet (often these places are run by Chinese people) and she said they were, but that they spoke viet with, get this, a southern twang. The food was pretty good, but the pho broth was quite sweet.We continued on through AR and got into Memphis just as night fell. We were staying in a state park that was located in the southwest corner of the city. It was a nice change because usually state parks with camping are located far from major cities. We set up camp and headed out for the night.
We weren’t sure what to expect. It was clear that we had crossed over into a different world. The billboards showed fetuses and asked for mercy, the people spoke with a slow twang that was like another language, the liquor stores had drive-thrus, but refused to sell on Sundays.
When we got to downtown Memphis our eyes lit up and our hearts began to beat rapidly. It was everything we had hoped for. Beale Street, the main boulevard of Memphis, was blocked off from cars and filled with blues bars, beer, and It. The “it” that Dean Moriarty spoke of in On the Road. The “it” that encompasses cool, amazing, magnificent, soul, - a feeling of seeing the physical manifestation of an idea whose time had come.We strolled onto the street and instantly blues riffs poured out of bars and into our hearts. Our ears lifted up and we roamed the land looking for drinks and Leadbelly’s twelve bars. Within minutes we had beers in our hands and blues on the mind. Every bar had a band or at least a guitarist showing off his chops.
We chose to be as touristy as possible and decided that since we were in Memphis only once, we’d better head into BB King’s Blues Club. It was actually a pretty cool place, filled with both tourists and locals. The house band was good, with a female singer blowin’ the roof off, but the main attraction was great. Ronnie Barker Brooks is a blue guitarist who definitely knew his way up and down the frets. He plucked and played and worked the crowd to a height. The solos were great and we left with smiles on our faces.The next morning we were still talking about the amazing coolness and the “It” that Memphis’ Beale Street contained. The feel of the street was contagious and we were sad that we were leaving town later that day. We headed off for the National Civil Rights Museum realizing that we were about to see another much sadder part of the south.
The National Civil Rights Museum was possibly one of the best historical museums I have ever visited. It is housed in the Lorraine Hotel in which Martin Luther King was assassinated in 1968. Deceivingly small looking from the outside, we ended up spending almost 3 hours looking at the exhibit. It took viewers from the slave riots of the 1700s all the way up through modern day struggles, with the climax and majority of the presentation devoted to the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 60s.
It was extremely inspiring and informative and left me in awe of the struggle that was taken on by African Americans. Nothing was particularly new for me as I had learned much of this history in high school and college classes, but to have it brought all together in one place was particularly revealing of the long and turbulent history of this battle for human rights. I was a little worried that it would be a glib look at this history, but it was thoughtful and deep and was a place that I think everyone should visit.Actually getting to walk into the room that MLK stayed in the day he was shot was eerie. They had preserved the room as it had been on that day with its scattered coffee cups and cigarette butts. The exhibit also contained a fascinating look at the different conspiracy theories that surrounded MLK’s assassination. There was no idea left uncovered and they even had each piece of evidence presented at James Earl Ray’s trial.
Before we left we also made a quick stop by Sun Studios. This is the studio that introduced the world to Elvis, Johnny Cash and many other famous rockabilly stars of the '50s and '60s. They had records lining the wall and too much music memorabilia to list. Among this was one of Johnny Cash's guitars and Elvis's shoes. A pretty cool stop, but a small place.
We finished off our trip to Memphis with a stop at Interstate BBQ. We fed our faces with pork ribs, BBQ chicken, BBQ spaghetti (yes, spaghetti), and, unbelievably, a BBQ baloney sandwich. Mylinh, being a spam lover, requested this concoction and it wasn’t half bad. It kind of tasted like a hot dog, shaped like a hamburger and layered with BBQ sauce. Overall, I left with one thought: I will never tire of BBQ.
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