I will shine and sing my song

They call Louisville "Possibility City", and it's true that many things are possible.  You can possibly get a job and buy a house here (cost of living here is well below the national average).  You can possibly have a fantastic meal here (foodie culture is booming).  You can possibly fall in love here (the people are so unbelievably cute and friendly).  And you can possibly end up in Indiana.

Louisville is a pretty sleepy town on a 90 degree Tuesday morning, so I thought I'd take my coffee down to the waterfront park for a nice view of the bridges while I gave the city a chance to wake up.  Easy enough, right?  So far on this trip, my mode has been to simply study a map beforehand and use the GPS only as backup.  But I couldn't make heads or tails of Louisville, and my Waze navigator (who I call Lola), really couldn't either.  Which is how, in my attempt to enjoy the waterfront park, I found myself in Indiana... twice.  Lola was all in a directional kerfuffle and kept telling me I had arrived at my destination, when clearly, I had not arrived at my destination.  After many turnarounds and much confusion, I finally made it, and had a nice, hot walk along the wharf.

Add: KJ Grow, Aug 2013

Truth be told, all of this walking was really to get myself and my stomach ready for a day of gluttonous eating.  Louisville has a serious food reputation, and with only enough time for a couple of choice meals, I knew I had my work cut out for me.

My lunch stop was at the utterly charming Hillbilly Tea cafe in the NuLu district.  Like much of the rest of the city, this place was sunny and stylish, with a wholesome happy kind of vibe.  I started with the Summer Green iced tea, a citrusy blend that included some rose and lavender and was completely refreshing.  For lunch I had a cup of strawberry soup, made with coconut milk and topped with fresh blueberries, which surprised me with its depth of flavor.  And I had a watermelon salad with arugula, walnuts, radishes, whipped herbed goat cheese and cherry vinaigrette.  All sublimely delicious.

 

 


For my afternoon I explored more of NuLu, a growing, hip area with upscale galleries and boutiques, that seems to be bursting with creativity and style.  I picked up a few things to take home: a tin cup to plant flowers in, a green pig pot (use tbd), a horse-print t-shirt, and a skirt made from "upcycled" mens' shirts.

On one building this public art piece allows passersby to create a sort of collective bucket list.  I was amused by the range of mundane to strange to wildly aspirational ("eat bananas", "hug an alien"...), and it got me thinking about what I want to do before I die, bringing to mind the final line in the Mary Oliver poem, The Summer Day, "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

Then I hit Bardstown Road, the funkier, edgier shopping stretch, with tattoo parlors and vintage stores and dive bars.  But it was such a hot day that I soon tired of being on pavement and needed to retreat into some green.

I made my way to Cherokee Park, a lovely green space designed by Frederick Olmstead, the creator of Central Park and Prospect Park.  Though I'd never been to Cherokee Park before, there was something oddly familiar and comfortable about it, like I instinctively knew which way to go.

To cool off, I ran through a sprinkler fully clothed, and then found a shady spot beneath a tree.   I practiced my fiddle for a bit and then fell asleep on a picnic table, awakened 20 minutes later to the sounds of cardinals chirping around me.

At 5:30, I arrived at Shine studios for a Nia class.  One of the things I most love about Nia is the kind of people it attracts and the global community it builds.  I know that anywhere I travel, I can walk into a Nia class and be warmly welcomed.  It was such a treat to dance with Nia teacher Maria Whitley, who was fresh off her Brown Belt training, and to see the beautiful studio space she had created in downtown Louisville as a sanctuary for wellness and healing.

 


After a great workout and a shower back at the farmhouse, I went in search of southern food, preferably fried or smoked, and I found the holy grail.  Hammerheads might be one of my new favorite places on earth.  It's a tiny little no-frills basement hole-in-the-wall, with no sign but a massive hammerhead shark out front, and two giant smokers in the back.  This was the first time on my trip I was really wishing I had company, because I needed an extra stomach to fit in everything I wanted to order on the menu.  After much deliberation I settled on the fried mac and cheese balls, the roast duck sandwich on a pretzel bun, truffle fries and a Falls City Pale Ale.  It was mind-blowingly good.  I sat at the bar and evangelized to my neighbors about how good it was.  They enthusiastically agreed.

At the bar next to me was a business consultant from San Diego, a guy in his fifties who had recently self-published an economics book.  I told him about my wanderings and wonderings about life and my next steps, and he said to me, "Here's my advice: always assess the risk, but live your life with an open heart."  Yes, sir.  And then I openheartedly gave him my leftover truffle fries.

Determined that I should have at least one glass of bourbon before I left Kentucky, I asked the bartender for his local recommendation, and he sent me to Nachbar, a comfy divey local bar in the Germantown neighborhood, with a great jukebox, lots of wooden owls, and a friendly clientele.  I quickly made friends with a few local guys (who winningly described themselves as "doers"), and slowly sipped a Noah's Mill Kentucky Bourbon.  These guys didn't entirely know what they were doing with their wild and precious lives either, but they sure seemed to be having a good time.

As far as my one wild and precious life?  Here's my vow for now:

And...(my addition at the bottom):