HOME OF THE BLUES

.....and also the birthplace of rock and roll.

THE PEABODY DUCKS

WHERE MARTIN LUTHER KING WAS ASSASSINATED

JACQUELINE SMITH STILL PROTESTIN'

BOB DYLAN AND HIS BAND

My first visit of the day was to the Peabody Hotel to see the famous Peabody ducks. Their $200,000 palace (i.e. enclosure) is on the roof of the 14-floor Hotel, but at exactly 11.00am each morning they are escorted to the lift (sorry, elevator) by the 'Duckmaster' and taken to the lobby where they spend the rest of the day swimming around the marble fountain. They are escorted back up to the roof at 5.00pm. Other than unlocking the enclosure and pressing the lift button, the Duckmaster didn't have much to do as the ducks knew just where they were going. They waddled so fast that it was difficult keeping up with them.

I visited the store/workshop of St. Blues guitar-makers. I hadn't heard of the make before, but Clapton and Bono seem to have done. From there I walked to Sun Studios where Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis and Johnny Cash recorded. Then I took a ride along the Mississippi riverside on one of the clackety trolleybuses.

An interesting encounter occurred when I visited the Lorraine Motel where the Reverend Dr Martin Luther King was assassinated. The Motel is now a National Civil Rights Museum, and they are in the process of developing it further, but not everyone seems to be impressed by the idea.

Black lady Jacqueline Smith has been making her own civil rights protest for over 25 years from her pitch by the Lorraine Motel sign. She believes that the area surrounding the Motel has become gentrified, forcing out locals, mostly black, because they cannot afford the increased rents. She thinks that all the money spent on the Museum should be used to provide affordable housing for the community. She is a spirited individual who is clearly committed to her campaign and, whilst I know nothing of the local politics, I suspect she may have a point. I gave her $5 for her cause, but when she heard I hadn't eaten yet she offered it back.

In the evening I finally took my stroll along Beale Street but, compared to Bourbon Street in New Orleans, it seemed tame. Beale Street was clearly also a hunting ground for beggars so, after being asked if I could spare a buck 5 times in less than 20 minutes, I decided to head for the nearby Autozone Sports Park where I was told Bob Dylan was playing.

It wasn't hard to find the Park - I just followed the sound of the music. As I stood outside the steel fence hoping to get a glimpse of the stage, someone inside pushed a ticket through the bars into my hand and told me to come on in. So I did.

The ticket got me right to the front for the last half dozen numbers of the evening. I hope Mr Dylan appreciated me coming all the way from England to hear him.

MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE

BUSY MEMPHIS TERMINAL

THAT'LL BE 8,300 LITRES OF DIESEL PLEASE

Monday 1st July already and I've now been in the USA for two whole weeks. Today, I take the Amtrak 'City of New Orleans' train to Memphis, a mere 8 hours 15 minutes away.

I visited the National World War II Museum, just down the street from Union Passenger Terminal, whilst waiting for my 1.45pm departure. Each day there are only two Amtrak arrivals and two departures from the Terminal, which doesn't seem much considering the size of the building.

So what did I think of New Orleans?

Well, although my initial impressions were poor, they did improve as I explored other parts of the city. In general, however, I did not find the locals to be as warm or friendly as I have in the other places in the USA. I got the impression that, except in tourist areas, visitors and locals largely ignore each other.

Sadly, I saw my first incidence of rudeness near Jackson Square. A stocky man, probably in his 40's, was bellowing at any pedestrians who got in his way as he cycled along the pedestrianised promenade. As soon he opened his mouth to say "...get out my way, pal" I knew he was a Brit. I felt ashamed. We really need ambassadors like him!

In summary, New Orleans has a lot of history and a lot of culture. It is also a great place to party. For me, however, it did not seem to radiate much warmth. What brief friendships I made were all in the hostel. Although black people are in the majority it is evident that most of the wealth and power is in the hands of the white population. I was approached several times by people asking me for money and not one of them was white. I have now got into the habit of keeping a pocketful of dollar bills handy. Coming to New Orleans has been very educational for me, and I am glad that it is recovering from the Katrina disaster, but I have no desire to return.

During most of my train journey I was able to watch America pass by from the observation car on the upper level of the double-decker carriage. I noted that outside of the big urban areas, few houses had fences between them. I suppose that everyone has so much space that border disputes are infrequent. I also noted that the train's hooter sounded frequently and discovered that this was a legal requirement at every crossing, of which there were many. Note that few crossings have gates.

With me in the observation car was a group of raucous men and women enjoying a game of cards. They were wearing tee-shirts with 'Drifting On A Memory' written on the back. The fronts said 'Carver High School, Class of 1968, 45th Class Reunion'. They were all black. I imagine that schools were segregated then.

When I reached Memphis it was dark and I had to walk roughly a mile to the Hotel. As I passed by the famous Beale Street, the night's merriments were in full swing. I received yet another request for money from a black gentleman. He was friendly enough, so I made him work for his cash by escorting me to the hotel door. Once I had checked in I was too tired to walk back to Beale Street - that can wait until tomorrow.