With love from Chattanooga, Tennessee
It seems I’ve already managed to renege on my promise to myself of one blog post each fortnight. But I have a reason! Let’s call it ‘R&D into my chosen topic’, given I’ve just spent the last two weeks in the midst of blissful Southern US hospitality on holiday; the likes of which I’ve only ever read about in Tennessee Williams’ plays. This seems apt given I visited his namesake state.
I spent the last fortnight in Chattanooga, Nashville and Memphis, all in Tennessee, USA, visiting a very dear school friend. After my time there, with two other friends in tow, I can’t say I’m surprised Blanche DuBois opined on ‘the kindness of strangers’ in Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire, given the willingness of strangers (and soon-to-be-not-such-strangers) to welcome us into their country with warmness and curiosity.
Only 45 minutes into our holiday, at Atlanta airport, we’d been in deep conversations with at least four separate people, all keen to find out more about why we were there, why our friend was in Tennessee (‘sounds like a man….’) and even into the nitty gritty of what we thought about their land of the free and home of the brave (we declined to even stick a toe into politics in true British, non-confrontational style).
Spending a first evening with our friend’s newly ‘inherited’ in-laws and wider family, we were also struck by the kindness and, indeed, quiet determination of, new acquaintances keen to share what they could with us. Whether it was burgers from the BBQ, a dinner to celebrate the birthday of one of our party, or even an afternoon in the beautiful landscape of ‘Uncle Bob’s’ lake and fern garden, not only did these strangers want to talk to us, they were happy to spend time with us almost immediately after a first meeting.
The spectacular lake at Uncle Bob’s, backing onto the Tennessee River
This isn’t to say that British people can’t, and don’t, behave in the same welcoming manner, but perhaps we’re held back by a certain reticence, whether that’s because of a fear of what the object of their instant befriending may think, or a general desire to remain a step back, borne from our collective ‘stiff upper lip’?
Looking at it from another angle, maybe the UK’s easy access to other countries, particularly in Europe, could mean we take our travel options for granted, and in turn think less of welcoming travellers. In countries, or parts of countries, where people tend to travel less for whatever reason, a tourist may be seen more as something of a novelty: a shiny penny to part-possess, part-inform, part-mother? Lord knows that, in Tennessee, most people chatting to us on the street, in bars, restaurants and so on, first asked us where we were from, but then asked us, mostly incredulously ‘why are you here?’
But chat these Tennesseans did, and we lapped it up pretty much every single time. Truly the only exception I can think of was in Memphis, near Beale Street, where we were tailed by a ‘farm boy from Wisconsin’, staying in the city on business, and who repeated ‘got a wedding ring and a wallet’ to us… whatever the hell that meant!?
A holiday in Tennessee was a perfect opportunity to reinforce my resolution of talking more to strangers, and when I arrived home to London yesterday and went for brunch in Notting Hill, I found myself chatting away to the waitress far more than I usually would, even with my 2013 ‘Chatty Cathy’ confidence. Tennessee also provided me with an opportunity to begin the very first step in the ‘experiment’ that I hope, in time, makes up the contents of this blog. All that, however, will again depend on the kindness of Tennesse’s strangers. And a smidgen of luck.
twenty six ways to say hello 