After an exhausting, dubious and slightly worrying bus ride, the country music metropolis of the south was a very welcome site, so were the cowboys.

 

This was Nashville, the home of the biggest names in country music and capital of Tennessee. 

 

Having been a lifelong Shania Twain fan, I’ve had many a pair of leather trousers and cowboy boots but, after ditching the cowgirl fashion long ago, when I arrived in Nashville I cursed myself for having done so. I needed my denim cowboy hat with the diamante studs in order to fit into this jamming, swinging, rooting tooting town.

 

Downtown Nashville is the hub of music and ambience. The Country Music Hall of Fame, the Ryman auditorium and the Country Music Walk of Fame are all here waiting to give you a dose of musical history. I gazed at Dolly in the museums, sang along to Kenny in the streets and tried to unsuccessfully spot stars of the TV show Nashville.

 

By night however, I was staying in the Downtown Hostel. This modern and musical hostel allowed me to meet wannabe stars and fellow hoedown throwers to head out onto the strip with.

 

Each night I graced the West End Ave and made my way through the strip of bars to sample the live music pouring from every entrance. The never ending tunes and pure passion for good music were contagious and we would party in The Honky Tonk until the early hours. 

 

As a lone traveller, in this alive and passionate city I never felt lonely. With singers at every corner and a tune constantly in your ear it was hard to shake off that ambition and energy that seeps through the streets of Nashville into you pores. As cheesy as it sounds, for me and Nashville it was love at first site. Whether Nashville approved of my swishy skirts and sandals as opposed to denim and straw hats is unknown but, he’s certainly a town I won’t be shaking off any time soon.