Five days into my trip to Nashville, Tennessee, I griped that I’d stopped counting the times I’d heard the song “Man of Constant Sorrow,” the Soggy Bottom Boys’ hit from 2000’s “O Brother, Where Art Thou” soundtrack.

But it was a mild and half-hearted complaint, for as I discovered on a recent trip to Tennessee capital, Nashville is an affable destination for 40-something nerdy Black women like me, my OB-GYN doctor friend and a pal finishing up her Ph.D.

Nashville is a favorite spot for bachelorette parties, and those group pedal-your-own-party vehicles routinely work their way through the Gulch downtown district. But we were looking for a less raucous visit. I appointed myself trip activities director and generated an itinerary that had as many elements of a pleasureable, bougie Black-woman stay as possible without overscheduling: special dinners and lots of food, a touch of history and art, a unique spa experience, retail therapy and truly happy happy hours. Here are my strategies for a stimulating trip and the best of what we found:

Find your “mullet hotel”

We dropped our luggage at the W Hotel, a newish property on 12th Avenue in the Gulch. Nashville’s downtown hotel prices can give New York lodgings a run for their money, but the W is worth it. It’s what I call a mullet hotel: business in the front and party in the back. The reality is that the pandemic means we can take our work anywhere, and many of us do. The lobby is a study in sleek shades of black and brown, and for those who just can’t quit our computers, there’s also a handsome lounge called The Den, a spacious glass-walled room, a terrarium of sorts for workers who need to do a quickie Zoom call. Enter the hotel elevator, and the floor mats say good morning, afternoon or evening, based on time of day. A second-floor, 24-hour pool is a welcome and not-too-busy alternative to the swanky pool at the nearby Westin (that pool, if you are impressed by such things, is a tank perched on the edge of the 27th floor. Its clear glass outer wall makes it appear that you’re swimming off the precipice. But, alas, it’s for guests only.). Suites at the W can come with separate porcelain soaking tubs, and all hotel phones have a “Whatever” button, answered promptly by staff who will tend to whatever request you make. It occurred to me that such a button might embolden guests and reinforce the ridiculous adage that the “customer is always right.” But I was impressed that a request for an in-room microwave resulted in delivery in 10 minutes flat. We appreciated the presence of diverse and gender-fluid front-of-house staff.

Cultivate the art of Black brunch

By the time we dropped off our bags, it was 11 a.m., on Sunday, also known as the witching hour for brunch. We took ourselves with a quickness to Riddim and Spice Caribbean restaurant, near Meharry Medical College, where we had a lamb scramble, roti with curry and cabbage, and plantain French toast. By noon, millennials packed the restaurant, and libations were flowing freely. There’s no outdoor seating, and tables are tight; we left as business picked up because, let’s face facts, it’s still a pandemic. Back in the Gulch, Marsh House in the Thompson Hotel has a weekday brunch, and I am emphatically here for that (shouldn’t it be a right?). We had a top-notch BLT, an herbaceous compressed-melon salad, and a bracing, yet citrusy One Eyed Jack in very designerly digs.

Be Black and proud — and present — at historic sites about slavery

As painful as it may be, I believe it’s utterly necessary that Black people visit historic plantations and other sites of slavery. One, because our ancestors built those sites — and this country. Two, because we need to see if these sites are perpetuating bogus facts (Lost Cause narratives that minimize enslavement) and doing justice to our history. On the way back from Cheekwood, we made an impromptu visit to Belle Meade Historic Site and Winery, a sprawling once-600-acre plantation that thrived off horse breeding and the labor of more than 130 enslaved people in 1860.

At Belle Meade, you can see the big house, of course, and an intact slave quarters that was relocated from another site. I bought a $28 ticket for the “Journey to Jubilee” tour, which concentrates on slavery and freedom on the grounds (and, yes, I balk at the ticket price. I also believe that Black people should have free admission to such sites in perpetuity. Seriously). I always steel myself for such tours — I’ve been to properties where enslaved people were called servants, not discussed at all, or described as happy co-residents. But I was pleasantly surprised by our guide, Jeff, who carefully teased out complex issues. I felt niggling discomfort at the tour ending at a winery, but I sipped the sweet blackberry wine and toasted Susanna Carter, who tended house at Belle Meade in slavery and after emancipation; she purportedly made a blackberry wine like the one sold on the premises.

New-Agey in Nashville

It’s not a vacation until I fit in some unconventional relaxation. A random online search pointed me to Sound + Soul, a sound bath ($20) organized by healer Tonisha “Toni” Gordon of Tonic Treks. Once we got comfortable on yoga mats (bring pillows or whatever makes you comfortable), she played crystal “singing bowls,” which emit a variety of rich vibrations and noises, and shared soothing affirmations. I got a chance to play the bowls after the sound bath — so named because the sound washes over you — and feel their power. And since the sound bath was at Ce Gallery on Houston Street, we got to relax under a painting of Black Panther Huey Newton looking on from beyond. You can schedule private sound baths with Gordon.

A happy hour every day

Nashville abounds with happy hours. Among our favorites: Germantown’s Butchertown Hall for elevated nachos, craft beer, outdoor seating, and crisp white decor inside that will be duplicated in my home bathroom; Lyra, for Middle Eastern eats; and Red Perch for its fish, chips, and a pint for less than $20. And though “happy hour” is technically all day, the East Nashville taproom of Southern Grist Brewery, got our attention with its sour ales and unusually fruity brews.

WWGG (Where would Gatsby go)?

And on the matter of history, we took a ride out to , a sprawling 1930s estate now transformed into a manor with lush botanical gardens (it’s a steepish climb from ticket booth to the mansion, so don’t be shy about hitching a ride on one of the property’s golf carts). We bought tickets to see “” by the Chicago collective Luftwerk; it’s on display until September 4. You can’t miss how the portico on the mansion’s east end becomes a study in blue and the sky, and the collective’s experiments with color and movement both inside and outside the building make trippy and imminently Instagrammable photo opportunities. And if free art is more your thing, Nashville is a city of murals. My fave is of legendary guitarist Jimi Hendrix, who moved to the city in 1962.

Not just country music

One of Nashville’s newest and most entertaining museums is the National Museum of African American Music. Highly interactive, the museum has something for all ages as it tours through the indigenous art forms of Black America from blues, gospel, country (yes, country isn’t just for white people), and hip hop. I do love a museum with a playlist. This is a Nashville must-see.

Hot sauna summer

Perhaps my favorite stop in Nashville is Holiday Salon & Bathhouse. You can do as the Finns do in their saunas: swelter in the steam room, soak in the warm pool, sweat in the sauna, and then shock your system with a cold shower. Alternating body temperature is supposed to be helpful and is time-honored practice in many cultures. You get the spa area to yourself for a ridiculously cheap $100 per hour for two people (additional guests cost extra). But trust me; bring your bathing suit and book two hours. A hidden secret of Nashville (almost literally, it’s in a mostly empty building that might double for a “Saw” set if it weren’t so clean and modern, but press on. It’s worth it). I also had a hot stone massage with a mud scrub at O.liv Body Bar, Tennessee’s only spa to have a room for mud-based treatments. One nice feature there: You get to mix your own essential oil at a body bar. Mine was lemongrass and basil; I smelled like Thai food after massage therapist Johnna pounded and kneaded the stress out of my rhomboids.

Explore the origins of hot chicken

Nashville is the birthplace of hot chicken, which seems to be on every menu and has sparked seemingly scores of franchises, restaurants with no connection to Tennessee, and imitators (I have feelings about just how quickly hot chicken is being dissociated from its origins in Black Nashville). You can’t leave Nashville without singeing your lips with hot chicken at least once. You can pay tribute to where it all started, with Prince’s, or you can try newer, more updated versions like 400 Degrees (and might I point out these businesses are owned and operated by Black women, always a bonus point in my book). Eat the hottest at your own peril.

Pursue the sweet(s) life

Pastry chef Rebekah Turshen hipped me to some sweet destinations and makers (check out her creations at City House — the things the woman can do with cornmeal and sugar!). I had a delightful Sunday morning stop at Dozen Bakery, where I upended my low-carb diet with a savory zucchini galette, tomato bread, and a peanut butter cookie. Diets are not for travel. She also reminded me of ice cream maker, Lokelani Alabanza, whose Saturated Ice Cream makes frozen delights inspired by vintage cookbooks, African-American history, her own adventurous palette, and some infused with CBD. Follow her on Instagram to figure out what creative flavor is on offer now, and support another Black-owned business.

Shopping

On a lark, we decided to drop in at L&L Market, a small assortment of upscale, but not entirely out-of-reach retailers. We bought gourmet popcorn, instant elote seasoning at a spice shop, and handwrapped rings made by women metalsmiths. I plotted how to get a customized, handwoven Nicaragua-made chair from Masaya & Co. Next visit, I’d do more than simply watch the food go by at Culture + Co, a wine-charcuterie-cheese experience that uses a conveyor belt to tantalize and deliver small plates of snacking olives, fruit and cheese and more.

Get crafty

Vacations are not made for only stuffing your face, and we checked in the next day at Hatch Show Print for a little creative inspiration. is the nation’s oldest continuously operating letterpress printer. The method uses woodblocks of letters and symbols that have to be painstaking arranged by hand, then inked, and pressed in antiquated printers cranked by elbow grease. The technique produces a distinctive look, which you’ve probably seen on classic music posters. For 20 bucks, you can take an hourlong tour of Hatch’s premises, try your hand at printing a simple flier, and leave with a piece of printing history. Performers such as B.B. King, Willie Nelson, Dolly Parton, Lizzo and Steve Harvey have availed themselves of Hatch’s services, among thousands of others.

Eat at the chef’s counter

I always enjoy seeing how chefs work together because when it works well, it’s a symphony. We reserved seats at the counter at Etch, one of Nashville’s longest running restaurants helmed by a woman chef. Neither the food nor the subtle drama of seeing line cooks construct towering tofu entrees disappointed.

Visit micro-bookstores

I judge cities, in part, by their bookstores. And I have a particular fondness for really small bookstores, because when space is at a premium, booksellers drill down due to necessity and purchase the most interesting books. My favorite Nashville bookstore is also its newest:the quirky and charming Novelette, which opened in June. It’s barely the size of my den and dining room, but it packs fun and literary heft into its cheery space with bright pink and green bookshelves. The table that faces you upon entering brims with a superbly curated selection of new and recent releases, many by writers of color. Equally interesting are small sections on graphic novels and gender and sexuality. And barely a mile away is another “microbookshop,” as I like to call them: The Bookshop, which has a lovely and extensive selection of food books and is adjacent to a coffee shop.