Sex Confessions from the Red Light District

What you doing here ya cheeky bastards? Ready and waiting for this racy blog that’s what. Pure filth but I mean same. I would have clicked on this link too.

SEX: a taboo topic but apparently not in Amsterdam and not on JustJennyLamb, aren’t you lucky. So yes, bla bla bla I went to Amsterdam and I mean, who hasn’t been? The difference is I went with my mum (LOL) and we went to the Red Light District and sourced some sex confessions.

Turns out the Dutch are pretty liberal when it comes to prostitution. Now I’m sure many of you know about the infamous windows in the Red Light District but those of you who don’t lemme give you a quick run down before we get to the good stuff in this blog – Top 10 Sex Confessions from the Red Light District.

Red Light District Background

Former office used for the rental of prostitution rooms in Amsterdam

Prostitution is legal in The Netherlands and has been since 2000. Funny enough that is the same number of condoms that a Dutch prostitute is estimated to go through every year. Times that by 100 and you’ll have the number of men who visit a prostitute in the Netherlands each year.

Girls enlist the help of one of the windows that line the streets of the district by posing in their underwear to attract the attention of passers-by. If someone sees a girl they like, they knock on the adjacent door and discuss a service. Rental price for one of these windows is around €150 per 10h shift with an average start price for each customer being €50. AND get this, guess how much an average session lasts… 6 MINUTES! ! €50 for 6 minutes? ! ? Literally get that for free from any gal down CTZN on a Friday night son.

So yes, me and my mum did go to the Red Light District but for EDUCATIONAL REASONS. There’s a museum called Red Light Secrets and you know what, it’s actually very interesting so if you’re in town check it out.

MY MUM – not sure you’ve got the job hun hahaha

Anyway, the museum is home to a wall covered in confessionals written by visitors AND let me tell you, there are some fucking weird people out there, I’ll give you that. From shitting fetishes to steamy affairs, here’s a run down of my personal top 10 sex confessions from the Red Light District:

Top 10 Sex Confessions from the Red Light District, Amsterdam

1. The first time I had sex, I tried giving head using toothpaste & nearly died from a burning tongue. He washed his dick in the sink in pain.

– Anon. California

I mean, fair. Girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

Just to prove to you, these are all very real confessions.

2. It really turns me on when people watch me going to the toilet, especially if I’m taking a poo! :O

#ILOVEIT x

Anon.

Confused but not surprised. Also, why is this person apparently 14, ‘poo’ ‘#iloveit’ what u on hun?

3. I once walked in on my sister wanking off the family dog.

Anon.

Fucking hell, you need Jesus.

Me judging every last one of these freaks

4. Once I did an Irish girl anal and she shat on me.

Del

Oh gooood, more ‘poo’. Poor Del  😪

5. I once fucked my best friend’s father on a family holiday, in the pool. DADDY 🙂

Anon.

HAHAHA now this is the type of goss I can get on board with.

6. My husband and I came to the Red Light District and had a threesome with a girl from a window.

Amazing xoxo.

W.A. 😉

This was clearly the husband’s idea…

7. I once got fingered while interviewing someone for a job.

#HR #hegotthejob

Anon.

Ah, yes, the start of every good porno.

8. I once used a deodorant can to pleasure myself but the lid came off and got stuck in my vagina. My mum had to take me to hospital to get it out. I was 15.

Anon.

Lol get on Love Honey mate.

9. A few weeks ago my work colleague invited me over for dinner but it ended up in a threesome with her neighbour.

Anon.

Well that escalated…

10. I once bought a strap-on so I could attach it to my head and my girlfriend could sit on it.

Anon.

Admiration for the inventiveness, I won’t lie.

So I’m sure you’re all VERY curious to know my sex secret????

Yeah, fat chance. TBF, will probs tell you for a blog share, FB and Insta follow. Girl gotta earn that bread to keep providing you with this GOLD content. So help me out and I’ll message you it.

Nah, hoped you enjoyed this one, if you did, don’t be afraid to hit that share button and keep updated on FB and Insta for the next one. Links below…

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In a bit xo

Why Instagram Made Me Hate Petra, Jordan

No doubt if you follow any travel accounts on Instagram you will have seen a picture very similar to the one below. I know those photos were one of the reasons why I wanted to visit Petra, along with fulfilling a childhood dream of going to the ‘Canyon of the Crescent Moon’ – if you don’t get the reference, Indiana Jones baby, look it up. 

The Treasury

You clicked on this link having a few ideas of what I was going to say but I’m not here to tell you that Instagram is full of lies and everything isn’t picture perfect bla bla bla because if anything Petra looked just as magical as I thought it would and came very close to all the instas I’d seen. Only thing that the pictures don’t capture is the incessant smell of camel shit wafting up your nose every ten seconds but hey, it’s literally their home so I can shut up. The reason why Instagram made me hate Petra is because it has turned people into actual arseholes. I’ll explain. 

The only boys I need in my life

Clock the one in the back

When you visit Petra you have the option of walking through the Siq (the long boi gorge) at night and sitting by candle light as you look up at the Treasury (the main attraction) and listen to the sweet sounds of some old guy playing the flute. Sure, this sounds nice, right? NOT FOR ME. 

The Siq

EXHIBIT A: There we are walking along at a leisurely pace, it’s pitch black, rocky and busy. People are literally racing in the dark to get to the Treasury first. IMAGINE, elderly, meek Chinese tourists are hustling and bustling past youths sprinting with tripods and DSLRs (blogger cameras). I literally felt like I was in the stampede from Lion King 1 one step away from Mufasa crushing me or a similar beast bashing into me. 

EXHIBIT B: We finally reach the Treasury and the festivities have already begun. The set-up is beautiful, candle lit, traditional rugs laid out on the floor for people to sit on. It was packed and we were two amateurs who had decided not to partake in the earlier sprint. 

We scramble to find somewhere to sit as a bedouin gestures to us to sit down. We manage to perch on the end of a rug next to a young couple. Next thing I know the couple next to me have decided to lay down practically on me and attempt to take photos forcing me off the rug and into the dirt while they indulge in some ridiculous photoshoot. IT’S PITCH BLACK YOU MORONS AND YOU’VE GOT AN ANDROID. At almost the same time, I hear an immense shushing from behind as a photographer has just run through the aisles with his tripod to try and get to the front to take a picture of an ‘uninterrupted’ landscape. STOP.

After the performance finishes, a man who works at Petra announces that he will turn the lights on so we can see the Treasury clearly. I shit you not the lights came on and the flashes from everybody’s camera at the same time were more powerful than the lights set up to illuminate a fucking temple. The man had to urge people to appreciate the moment for just two minutes and switch off all phones.

Taken as everyone was leaving, not during, dw

EXHIBIT C: The next day we arrive at 6am. I wanna get in early. Typical, there’s people everywhere but whatever it’s all good. There’s a less competitive air than the night before. We book a guide and he ends up showing us a short climb to a great photo spot. We get up there and there’s people having their lunch on the mat laid down specifically so people can get that once in a lifetime shot. I hang around close to them hoping they get the idea that I want to take a cute photo and leave but alas NO. I had to ask if they could move for 2 minutes to which they reluctantly agreed. 

Just in town for a cute family pic xo

My man Hani took a quick photo and I was on my way. My point is that platforms like Instagram have made people selfish and think they are entitled to this ‘lone traveller experience’. Look through my Instagram and sure, there are photos of me alone with some pretty exciting backgrounds but they’re all real and I go early in the morning to capture these and would never think of disturbing someone else’s experience just so I can get a sick photo. The fact is that there are always people around you, there’s no such thing as discovering a ‘hidden gem’ anymore with the emergence of social media. Countless Instagrammers edit people out of their photos to give the illusion of this ‘lone traveller’ character. The reality is these tourist sites are literally there for the masses to enjoy, learn from and experience. 

What’s more is that people are risking their lives due to the pressures of “getting the gram”. I’m sure you will have heard of people falling off cliff edges or into waterfalls all because they wanted the perfect selfie. Our guide had to tell countless people not to stray off the path because of how unsafe it was. NO ONE listened. Look, don’t be an idiot and better yet, don’t be a selfish idiot. 

I’m not saying don’t take photos and I’m not even saying don’t pose 100 times to get your perfect shot or spend hours editing your photos because it’s your prerogative to do so. Just don’t be inconsiderate to others around you. I visited Petra in November of last year and this was their busiest November in history. According to The Jordan Times, tourism has risen by 49% compared to the same time last year. Petra received over 100,000 visitors in the month of November alone. Largely, in my opinion, due to the power of Instagram. 

Now, there’s many who take this kind of faux intellectual high ground and say that travel shouldn’t be about taking countless photos and parading it on social media but (and I know it sounds like I’m taking a cop out) there has to be a middle ground. 

Here’s a quote from an article in Condé Nast Traveller by David Annand called ‘How Instagram Is Ruining Travel’: 

At its best, travel is about curiosity, outwardness, a search for authentic encounters with the other. Photography was once a medium that enabled this: with its premium on stopping, framing, thinking, it encouraged seeing as opposed to merely looking. Lately, however, we seem to have stopped using photography like this. We’ve turned the camera around, focusing not out, but in. Photography no longer encourages seeing; it simply encourages projecting, turning the world’s great vistas into mere backdrops for the self.

David Annand, ‘How Instagram Is Ruining Travel’, Condé Nast

‘Encourage seeing as opposed to merely looking?’ Sorry hun but what? His pretentious prose is as equally unrelatable as the bouji lifestyles portrayed by the influencers he hates on. The general public aren’t as gullible or stupid as they are made out to be. Of course, people understand Instagram photos are edited, travel photos are more so works of art than they are representative of reality but the fact is I quite enjoy scrolling through my feed and looking at nice pictures whilst heavily aware my eyes probs won’t see the exact same thing in real life. 

Sure, I have my own view on what you should be getting out of travel but that’s personal to me. I can’t tell you what travelling is about but be considerate when doing so. Have fun trying to take the perfect pic for Insta but as a general rule of thumb, just don’t be a dick to those around you. 

In a bit xo

Lil ol’ me up high away from being rude to others

Why does her father look like a Disney villain who’s going to kill her?

Hiked for 45 minutes through camel shit for you all xoxo
This is the monastery.

Insta try-hard but tell me this isn’t a cool pic?

Find The Hidden Chapel At The Top Of This Mountain

You ever heard of my g, Moses? Ever wanted to climb to the place where he received the Ten Commandments from God? Ever wanted to see THE Burning Bush as described in the holy book? Nah me neither but here’s a hike you can do that is a little off the grid and not as basic as my short stint in Yosemite.

So, where/what am I talking about? In the depths of the Egyptian desert is a place called Saint Catherine’s Monastery; this monastery lies at the bottom of a mountain called, Mount Sinai or to locals, ‘Gebel Musa’ (Mount Moses). Bare tourists flock to the site on pilgrimage but I know you’re all in it for the Insta so here’s how to ‘do’ Mount Sinai right.

St Catherine’s Monastery is located slap bang in the centre of a region called the Sinai. A region often overlooked by the Egyptian government and not ventured to by many tourists due to its unsafe narrative. Since the revolution in 2011, Egypt’s tourism has dropped significantly and unfortunately, the Sinai isn’t an area where political turmoil has ceased.

However, the trouble is closely contained in the northern part of the area so you will actually be fine visiting. It’s for the GRAM C’MON LOSERS.

The British Government advises all but essential travel to the area in which the monastery is located. You just have to ask yourself one question: Is my blog essential? Obvs.

Lol British Government travel advice – what do they know?

Nah, but seriously, this means that most travel insurers won’t cover you so you know, be careful, don’t break a leg on the mountain, don’t get bamboozled by a camel etc.

Ok, on to the hike. Where should you stay? There are a couple of hotels (if you can call them that) near the monastery but after reading the reviews I decided not to put my body through that. One review said they had to sleep in their dirty clothes from the hike because the beds were that dirty. Niiiiiicee.

No filter I swear, Dahab is peng

So, stay in the nearby cities of Dahab or Sharm El Sheikh. If you went on a package beach holiday with your family in between the years of 2000 and 2011, you probably went to Sharm El Sheikh, or it was a strong option. It’s a beautiful beach town. Both are world renowned for their diving spots and landscapes. Kill two birds with one stone and have a nice resort to come back to after the hike.

The hotels will run tours to St Catherine’s but will rip you off. APPARENTLY, the ‘done’ thing is to start climbing at 12 (midnight) in order to catch the sunrise at the top at 5am/6am. Don’t do that.

Ask the hotel for a taxi to take you and pay for a mountain guide when you get there. Isn’t part of the enjoyment of hiking getting to see where you’re going? Also, wouldn’t you rather SEE the camel shit you’re stepping in?

Anyway, if you go any time other than Summer then you’ll be able to climb in the day. It’s not that high up and if you’re relatively alright health-wise, it won’t take you that long. Fun fact: It’s 3,750 steps up. HA HA grant me the sweet release of death now.

There are two routes up the mountain. Numero 1: The ‘Camel Path’; this takes 2-3 hours one way and is longer and shallower than the other route, which brings me onto numero 2: The ‘Steps of Penitence’; this bad boy is 1.5-2 hours one way and is more direct. FYI because numero 2 is only available to climb during the day and is a little harder, you won’t see any tourists.

Once you reach the top you’ll be greeted by a chapel built in 1934 on the ruins of a 16th century church but who cares about that right? You’ll be standing in the EXACT spot where Moses received the 10 commandments after spending 40 days and 40 nights in the desert. The EXACT spot. I’m calling bullshit but fair.

When you come back down, you’ll be able to visit the monastery (the actual attraction), a UNESCO World Heritage site – am I impressing you yet ehhh?  Well, actually, you might be able to, you might not be able to. The monastery is closed for most of the time, open from 9am-12pm on most days and only open for 1 hour on Fridays and Sundays. BUT, bribe the doorman who looks like a villain from a Disney film and you’ll get exclusive access.

I know I shouldn’t be promoting the whole bribing thing but a priest’s gotta eat too.

The monastery was built between 548 and 565, it’s one of the oldest in the world and has the oldest operating library in the world. Prior to the British Library it was home to one of the four great manuscripts that contained the entire text of the Bible.

I’m not gonna bore you with the rest of the history of the place, you can Google it or message me if you’re interested in that BUT if you are interested in doing something a little different, going somewhere a little different and experiencing something a little different, then please, go.

Egypt has so much to offer and it would be a shame if my Insta game wasn’t rivalled by at least one of you xo

Guide used: Ashraf – GREAT GUY, became my insta boyfriend for the afternoon. If you’re planning on going, message me for his deets.

View from the top

THE Burning Bush

Clock that sweat patch bitches

L.A.: My Tinder Nightmare

Los Angeles, what a big friendly giant. Sort of but actually, not really. One thing is correct in that sentence, it was big. After my experience, friendly? Not so much.

First things first, people drive like arseholes in LA. Lost a coin toss and had to do the first drive in the rental car. Imagine never having driven an automatic 4×4 down a freeway in the pitch black– HA! I got proper stressed out and had to pull over because I thought I was going to chunder.

Covering the car up cos it’s so shit

Many other things have made me want to chunder on this trip, including the smell of our air bnb, which smelled like cat piss or cat food, who knows. Maybe don’t stay in Korea Town kids.

L.A. with its vast expanse excited us. We spent the night in our shitty kitty litter flat and were ready to face a day of sightseeing. So, what did we do? See the Hollywood sign of course. Or, try and see the Hollywood sign… multiple times… 3 times to be exact. We drove around the hills for ages looking for the trails. To be fair, we got a great pic with the sign and no one else was around (see below) so go exploring kids. Don’t be afraid to get out there and get lost.

1st attempt wasn’t bad right?

Now, if you’ve made it this far you’re probably wondering about this tinder nightmare. You’ve opened this blog for one reason only and it’s that. So, let me set the scene. It’s a Thursday night, you’re in L.A., you’re loving life after having just eaten the best Korean bbq. You spent last night in a bar that was far too edgy for you and that you were far too drunk for. You want to experience what Korea Town’s night life has to offer (the natural choice of course). What do you do? You get on tinder and ask for recommendations.

The food was AMAZING

We all agreed at the start of the trip to swipe right for most people in order to get good ‘local’ recommendations. And, it worked! For the most part…

Back to Korea town, a man messaged me on Instagram, who I could only guess found me on Tinder. I responded asking for the best unknown spot to go out to in LA. He suggested going to a speakeasy called Break Room 86 in Korea Town. Perfect, right?

No. Really, no. After drinking a solitary beer each whilst a 40 year old man tried to hit on KJ, we decided to check out Break Room. When we arrived they checked our Ids round the back of what looked like a pub’s kitchen fire door and told us to go to a woman standing just behind the door’s opening.

She took us down a corridor with lockers on either side, chairs, other random shit until we got to a vending machine. She opened the vending machine and it turned out to be a door! We walked through the door and were greeted with a swanky bar. Retro decor in the cool way, not the try hard way. A live band began to play later in the night, an ice cream van was outside and a telephone box had a secret doorway to a karaoke room!

Secret doorway

I thought wow, what a great recommendation so I messaged the man back saying ‘Break Room, cool vibe, you were right’. He then replied asking if I was there. I did not reply. He then sent me a message saying ‘Yeah I’m here, where you at?’ This is when I began to shit myself.

There we were, happily smiling the night away, playing some arcade games when the Tinder man walked in. I swiftly turned my head and pretended I was engrossed in Miss Pac-Man. I don’t know why I thought this but I thought oh, it’s fine I’ll just spend the night dodging him. That was so dumb. The venue was super small and intimate.

The time came, I bumped into him ffs. Had to go through the niceties of saying hello, how are you etc. As soon as that was over I turned straight back around to KJ, Jack and Georgia and started dancing. He stood behind us the whole time. Oh, also, can we just clarify something, HE CAME ON HIS OWN. Whilst we were LOVING the band, some of us a little too much, we had to leave.

We snuck out through the back. We’d just had a lovely night together aside from the stalker, everything was fine right? NO, again, no. While your princess (me) was asleep the tinder man sent me these messages…

HE TRIED TO VIDEO CALL ME 25 times. Needless to say I went for that block. Be careful gals. Get those glorious recommendations but do a thorough look through a profile before replying.

Ahhhhh it’s all funny isn’t it or is that borderline psycho?

If you thought that was weird, check back here for a blog on San Francisco soon because THAT was even weirder.

Jack enjoying the ol’ gamesssss

80s rock band we all wanted to “f@#!”

Living it up large on Venice Beach

Blu Jam Café (another Tinder recommendation but from a normal man)

Next stop ——-> San Francisco, California

Keep updated on the journey on Insta

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New Orleans: Nashville but on meth

NEW ORLEANS, my my myyyyyy, this city is crazy. If I thought Nashville was mad, then this is like Nashville but on meth. If New Orleans was a person it would be that guy in every friendship group who takes it way too far on every night out and who you are low key worried about becoming a serious drug addict or alcoholic. So, you know… the fun one.

Bourbon Street is the infamous strip in NOLA and it’s kind of dirty but in a good way. You’ll see people pouring out of bars at all hours, women (old women) regularly getting their nipples out in exchange for beaded necklaces and you’ll even hear the sweet sounds of jazz music in the midst of the dirtiness.

Let’s get away from the city for a minute. Really do consider getting a tour out of the city whether that be taking a swamp tour or visiting a plantation. I was lucky enough to visit Oak Alley Plantation and was the youngest person on the tour. All in, it was $65 for transport there and back as well as a tour of the house. If you’ve got a good tour guide you’ll even get a short history lesson on the hour or so journey there.

So insta blogger innit

When we got back into the city, we bought a bottle of SoCo and headed for the bars. First one we spotted, ‘Bourbon Cowboy’; it had a mechanical bull so of course that was the first port of call. Rode the bull didn’t I?! Once the novelty of the bull had worn off and bald, military man Ray from Texas started to get a little TOO friendly, we moved on.

Living my best life

Next bar was the home of HUGE ASS BEERS and course we got one. Did I spill mine all over someone on the street from the balcony? Course I did. Turns out, my faux pas did not go unnoticed and the man stormed into the bar, up the stairs and tried to start a fight with my pal Seán. After countless attempts to tell him it was my fault, Blake Ward (so American) would not listen. Imagine an over privileged but really good looking frat boy, yeah… that. Escaping a punch in the face, we ended the night with a pizza from a woman who’s knowledge on local meth dealers could not be rivalled.

The following evening we decided to be a little more cultured and try some of the local cuisine. Draygos in the Hilton was recommended to us and albeit a little pricey, once seeing countless lobster dishes on the menu, I decided that was DEFFO a bit of me. For dessert we headed down to Cafe de Monde to try the infamous beignets and they did not disappoint fellas.

Lobster, oysters, mushrooms, pasta, JESUS

New Orleans is famous for two major things, its food and its music. We couldn’t leave without experiencing some traditional jazz so decided to get in line for Preservation Hall. Preservation Hall is a small intimate venue that was established in 1961 There’s no air conditioning so get ready for some serious bum juice. There’s no photography or recording allowed and there’s no microphone. What there is of course is great jazz music. It feels authentic because it is. At $20 a ticket, it’s worth it.

The hall is just off Bourbon Street so if you thought you were in for a relaxing evening of jazz, think again. As soon as you step out of the building you are once again reminded that you are in the mental district.

A night out on Bourbon Street is like if someone got every single hen party and stag do, every single lads and gals night out, every single addict and vomited them onto the street. Rules don’t seem to apply and you’ll end up appreciating the crazy things in life.

New Orleans is full of characters and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I saw a man go into the hotel swimming pool with a shower cap on. I saw another man sitting in only his dressing gown outside the Ritz smoking a cig and I saw some old woman, (who I’m going to say was at least 80) ride down Bourbon Street in a people bike wearing nothing but a bra and skirt blasting out ‘Move Bitch Get Out the Way’.

New Orleans, you were jokes but I think I would die there amongst all the craziness if you hosted me for more than a weekend.

Next stop ———> Los Angeles, California

Beignet at Cafe du Monde

Try some Alligator Bites, surprisingly nice

Check out Frenchman Street and find some artsy markets along the way

Nashville: Cowboy Maga

If you’re like me and not super knowledgeable on the topic of the South then you’ll associate Nashville with great country music, hot chicken and dreamboat accents. After reading this, you’ll still associate it with all of those things because it was exactly like that.

I got a flight from New York and as soon as I entered the terminal I could feel I was in the South. Probably because they had country music blaring out. Anyway, I stepped out of the airport to be greeted by Jennifer driving my Uber. Jennifer, lovely name, lovely lady but also bat shit crazy. My Uber driver was either completely trashed or absolutely bolted. She was flailing her arms everywhere, head moving frantically from side to side, eyes darting whilst telling us how much she loved Princess Diana and hated Camilla — (read in deep southern accent) “Oh we all lurrvveee Diana; we hate Camilla, she can go dieeeee”. Ok, hun? Still trying to decide whether her being binned was funny or not; I’ve come to the conclusion it’s all just banter innit.

After not dying on the journey, we checked into our hostel. My man Ted gave us a little tour round the place and reminded us of the ‘no hard liquor’ rule. I met some great people in this hostel, it was really close to the main strip and wasn’t super spenny (details at the bottom). We met a low-key country music producer and violin prodigy as well as a singer who had just decided to stay in the hostel because it was “more fun”. Aside from them, you’ll probably bump into LOADS of English people if you go during the summer as they’ve all just flooded from summer camps. You just can’t leave the English behind… shoutout to my boy Max.

Although the hostel wasn’t too spenny, going out definitely was. The plus side is that almost every bar along Broadway (main street in Downtown) is open every day of the week til late and has a live band. There’s no cover charge for watching artists you’d normally pay for anywhere else in the world. The only down thing is that it means drinks are pricey. The bands take requests if you tip them and will interact with the customers. Ever listened to a country song ironically at pres? Think of how everyone goes mental for it and times that by 100. It’s a fun vibe, a mix between an authentic American city and a strip on a lads holiday.

Luke Bryan’s Bar (Huntin’, Fishin’, Lovin’ Everyday – that guy)

That’s not to say that every bar pounds out the same thing because they’re all different and there’s something for everyone. Choose between learning to line dance, attempting karaoke in the ‘Music City’ of America or dancing on the bar at Coyote Ugly. Ticked something of my bucket list with that last one for 20 seconds of fame on the bar before being told I couldn’t do that… and then realising I’d left my credit card in another bar… the good times just kept on flowing. Ultimately, the going out scene in Nashville was like Cowboy Maga (N.B. Seán came up with this and wants credit, write your own blog lil bitch).

Prime example of a Maga Cowboy

If you’re not into going out and getting drunk, don’t go to Nashville. Ahhh, I’m being superficial but also not, don’t go. Sure, there are things to do in the day but the main attraction is the amazing music. If you’re into country music then check out the Johnny Cash museum; read his personal letters, listen to his songs and watch clips of his movies. At $20 a ticket I wouldn’t recommend going unless you REALLY like Johnny Cash. Alternatively you can go and visit the Parthenon in Centennial Park, a replica of the one in Greece or maybe you could just go to Greece? On the plus side their food is just as big as the music. Try their hot chicken and for the best mac ‘n cheese eat at The Stillery.

The Parthenon

Mac n’ cheese at The Stillery

Go to Nashville for the music, good food and people. You’ll be surprised at how into country music you’ll get. It’s an infectious atmosphere filled with carefree, outgoing and friendly people.

A word to describe Nashville? Fun. Two words? Guiltless fun.

*Hostel: Nashville Downtown Hostel, 177 1st Avenue North

Next stop —-> Memphis, Tennessee

Buy 1 pair and get 2 free – great deal fellas

Not quite Coyote Ugly but no one got a pic so enjoy this other cute one of me

Diabetes in a photo