If you’re like me and your phone is your life, then a piece of advice: get to know your cab driver. You will eventually leave your phone, camera or billfold behind.

As soon as I made it into the hostel, I realized that I didn’t have my phone and calculated it could only have fallen out in the shuttle van or at the first hotel passengers were dropped off at. When asked who my driver was, I couldn’t think of anything other than “he’s from Brazil.” I can never remember a name, though I never forget a face or a place.

“Half my drivers are from Brazil, sweetie.”

Lovely. We had just been chatting it up, as I was the last passenger to be dropped off, and I racked my brain for other identifying information. “He has a family and decided to be a driver recently … he used to be a computer engineer.”

“Oh, that must be Fernandez - only got two guys who were into computers. I’ll give him a call.”

And that’s how I got my phone back.

After an early rise @ 4am, with the hopes of making it to Austin in time to catch one of the free 300 tickets to Yo La Tengo, I was thoroughly disappointed to have not made it. No ticket is better than crashing though, so I’m glad I took the road side nap, even if it put me at the end of a soggy line a little after 10am. Disappointed, wet from the rain and ragged from little sleep I snagged the most comfortable hotel room in downtown and slept all day. Mostly rested, I forced myself out for the evening and stumbled into an open bar, for a web design competition hosted by Microsoft, and totally geeked out. (Free drinks always help!) My friends all got funny little text messages like “nerds in cowboy boots! wish you were here.”

Thinking I would try my first tech blog, I took notes and chatted it up with folks. A couple people asked me if I was press and what paper or new source I worked for. And that always led to interesting conversation.

I started today to catch up on reality (pay bills, etc.) and wanted to cry a little. Luckily, a man wearing gorgeous eye liner at the photo store confirmed that Austin is a great place for snagging cheap lodging and there’s plenty to do for free. And a creative photographer and artist, Lee, emailed me a doc listing hundreds of said free shows all week so I’m staying optimistic. The best news of all is the weather forcast: 60s and 70s all week will make for fabulous camping!

If you have any recommendations or gossip on what to catch, let me know!

Nestled quietly a mere 9 meters, or 30 feet, from I-10 in a Texan rest stop, I reflect on my recent Louisiana love affair and replenish my body’s hydration system. Currently, I’m en route to Austin Texas, where I hope to be one of 400 people to receive free tickets to a Yo La Tengo show on Tuesday. But I’m tired, so need to calculate how to both sleep and drive 5 hours in only 10 hours … and no, I’m not allowed to sleep while driving.

If only New Orleans wasn’t such an awesome city, filled with fun and friendly people, delicious food and an abundance of liquor and festivals I wouldn’t be in this predicament. Yes, another sign that life on the road can be challenging.

Let me go back to the beginning. As a highway ferry transports me across the Mississippi, I transfer my love of Mississippi into Louisiana. Spanish moss hangs from statuesque oaks, black cats roll on the ground, baiting me to pet them, at the #1 haunted mansion in the world and Jaik’s mom welcomes me with the finest home cooked dinner I’ll have all trip. (I need to take better notes since I’m not quick with French, but the dinner included lots of crawfish in both etouffee and pizza and a French cake with 7 layers of pudding diving a rich, white cake.)

A Debuke college professor and English tourist are sitting at the India House kitchen table and exchange quips on a history I’m unfamiliar with. “What can you do?” the Iowa man inquires, with a sad and serious undertone.

“You can forget it,” I offer with a nervous chuckle I habitually share to let others know that I’m light hearted, harmless and mean no offense by interrupting their conversation.

“Then history will repeat itself.”

“It’ll repeat itself anyway.” This conversation is already repeat of so many before. They accept my introduction into their conversation and we spend the next few minutes gently chewing on the paradoxes of the study and definitions of history. We take small bites and let the food marinate in our saliva to extract full flavor and aid in digestion.

Did I say I was going to spend another night in Memphis? It must have been the crack dropped in my drink.

Yeah…I made the smarter move, and headed down the Natchez Trace Parkway, a magical strip of roadway from Nashville to Natchez Miss. Never mind the first evening, when I portended death and slept in one of a million church parking lots along Hwy 43. (Turns out I veered off the parkway, which is too bad considering it has real-deal camping spots.)

On the bright side, I woke with the sun (at 5:50am) and spent an entire day dilly-dallying in the Mississippi sunshine. Being raised in the North with more Nebraska history than southern history, I received a crash course from the memorials, churches and houses along the way.

Some highlights on the trail:

Earlier this afternoon, my snapshot digital camera was swiped (stolen, snagged, taken without my permission) and I spent a good deal of an hour chatting with locals, store owners and innocent passers by in the overly optimistic hopes that I’d catch up with the gang of kids I suspected had it.

Resigned, I head to midtown to meet up with Davy, who’s sitting at Young Avenue Deli, waiting for 4:00 to roll around when he can check into the hostel. And, just for my amusement, a classic stupid human makes breaking news in a high-speed LA car chase.

It’s affirmative. Nashville is a rockin’ city, even for non country die-hards like myself. I want to drink more Jack Daniels and expect to see live music in every venue, for free, with dancing groupies collecting tips for the band. Among my favorites (and ones I can remember):

• Jypsi :: extremely sexy, with style to match their admirable and versatile sound
• Shawn Mayer :: an iowa girl sharing her hypnotizing voice with Nashville. We caught her at the Cadillac Ranch, where she sings nearly any song on request, even Alabama’s “I’m in a Hurry” despite never having played/sang it before.