1/31/18. The toe of the boot....

Drove to the Levee but the levee was dry...

Ever look at a map of Louisiana and wonder what’s at the toe of the boot? Yesterday Sarah, Steve, Laurie, Herman, and I drove south along the Mississippi River. The city morphed to industrial outskirts then changed to rural farmland intermixed with swamp. Warehouses and heavy equipment services for the oil companies. Parking lots full of trucks parked next to helicopter staging areas for the offshore derricks. Semi trucks loaded with lengths of pipe and iron christmas trees. Pastures of cows on the right. The levee on the left with superstructures of  oil tankers just visible above. Homes lifted high on stilts against future flooding. Stopped at a produce market to buy pecans but the harvest delayed due to cold. Little old Cajun lady suggests lunch at Venice Marina. Throws in information about the best place to watch the parades in New Orleans as lagniappe. Bought a jar of Mawhaw jelly. Took pictures at the sign proclaiming the end of the road. The town of Pilot further south but would need a boat to get there. Off season at the marina with shrimp boats gently bobbing and signs advertising fishing charters. Lunch of oyster poboys and gumbo. Stops on the roadside to watch rare bright red spoonbill flamingoes feed in the reeds. Popped a crown off one of my molars! Home in time to walk along the levee to watch the red blue moon rise above the city. Did not get up to see the eclipse at 5am.

Found a local dentist on Google today to glue me back together. Fifty bucks and more advise as to where to watch parades. A beautiful day so strolled thru Audubon Park. Circumnavigating the zoo we sat by the river watching barges and tankers ply the river. Home in time to climb the levee to watch the sunset turn the sky red silhouetting the city. Dinner of shrimp and hot sausage over cheese grits. Watched a local mom teaching her excited and proud son to ride his bike for the first time “without my training wheels”. 

First parade...

Bienville’s Wet Dream....

Went to our first Carnival parade last night. Rain stopped around 5. The Krewe du Vieux rolled at 7. Sarah and I caught the ferry in a fog that obscured the lights of the city hopefully forcing the captain to use technology beyond sounds of unseen wakes and the occasional fog horn. We followed the other tourists to join the hordes lining Dumane St. The Krewe newsletter, “Le Monde de Merde” describes the parade: “Bienville had a dream. Jean-Baptiste LeMoyne, Sierra de Bienville, dreamed of founding a great eternal city of gleaming buildings, educated people, thriving commerce, robust institutions—a true world capital. Three hundred years later, that dream is more like a lurid nocturnal fantasy, full of erotic rhythms and characters, melodies and mysteries, aromas and enchantments. Though it may be a pit of dysfunction decay, inequity and a thousand wasted opportunities, a muddy swampy, littered patch of beleaguered semi-high ground, New Orleans is also a rare gem, a deeply fragrant flower, a saxophone solo soaring over a soulful backbeat, a passionate mistress to all who love her so deeply. Bienville’s dream may have been all wet, but yet it flickers on.” Pre-warned by locals that this parade will be “raunchy” is not only accurate but an orgasmic understatement. Focusing on the ever present dysfunctional water and sewer system, I won’t bore you with the satirical illustrations provided by floats and marchers alike as they attempt to communicate the pathology of ineffective pumping action, directed at gaping holes in the landscape, with perpetual wet spots being displayed for all to scream, moan, or gush over. This parade makes the Rickies at the old Eugene Celebration parade look like the Monday morning march on Buckskin Bill’s Storyland, and oooweee, it was fun! 

Arriving quite early and quite thirsty, I made a quick procurement of a pint of Ezera at the little bodega around the corner and sipping from the brown paper bag we made new friends from Massachusetts, England, and Australia. As well as a gentlemen form N.O dispensing history, cups and libations to anyone holding out their hand. Finally, with the drums and horns of the marching band getting louder and blue lights on the police motorcycles reflecting off the balconies, our excitement builds. Floats pulled by mules or human participants we are awed by the graphic depictions as marchers in period costumes of white powder wigs and colonial undergarments or genitalia hidden in pizza boxes (!?) handed out tokens of wooden nickels redeemable for “one free ride”, beads, bottle caps with KDV glittered on as their official doubloon, or even pickles. 

After the last float, we disperse with the rest of the crowd to wander the Quarter for a while joining the revealers hooting and hollering in the shadows and still make the ferry just in time as the last boat sails for the west side. 

1/27/18 Rain...

1/27/18 Rain...

Awoke this morning to overcast gray sky. With no agenda scheduled for the day I allowed Sarah and Herman to sleep in. The rain started before noon. Sarah finely up we walked the 2 blocks to the Dry Dock Cafe across the street from the ferry. A catfish poboy for me satisfied my fried fish craving and shrimp bisque for Sarah was the perfect “breakfast” soup to start her day. We leisurely enjoyed our meal watching tourist from across the river experience the Algiers alternative to New Orleans and patiently tolerate the waiter work on his crossword puzzle. By the time we got back home, it’s raining hard with punctuation of lightening and thunder. Sarah returning to bed to read. Me and Herman lazy on the couch to nap. Awake now we listen to the cacophony of water flowing off roofs thru rusted out downspouts. 

Last night we enjoyed local entertainment and a slice of life at Bullet’s Sports Bar. Joining our friends, Steve and Laurie for dinner at their place I’m glad we had the forethought to nap earlier in the afternoon. Music always starts late in this town. Bullet’s, in the Treme district, is a predominantly African-American dive bar that has live music 3 nights a week. Last night it was an all woman drum and brass band including a trumpet player who was part of the cast in the HBO “Treme” series. Seems like everyone knew everyone. Even Steve, who had been there once before, was warmly greeted with a kiss on the cheek and a welcome from the very energetic waitress, Kendra. Abita beer all around for us but I would have liked to “do it” the way some of the other tables did it with a plastic bucket of ice, set-ups of coke or ginger ale, and a pint bottle of Hennessy or Jack from the bar. The band kicked off around 10 with loud, passionate sounds instantly moving folks to the center of the room to dance and sway. Finally wearing out our earplugs and messing with our circadian rhythm we pushed our way out after each getting a sweaty hug and kiss from a very busy Kendra. 

Thursday was an errand day: return broken green, yellow and purple sting of lights to the Mardi Gras store, get gas, add to our growing cache of groceries. Finding ourselves near the expansive City Park we wandered the manicured grounds, letting Herman play with a 120 lbs Great Dane puppy (raising his cute factor. As if he needs that!), and strolled thru the very impressive sculpture garden at times questioning the definition of “art”. 

Think I’ll take another nap before we head out to watch the Krewe of Vieux roll in the French Quarter tonight. 

We’re beat and my feet hurt...

1/23/18  A day of rest

Today is a designated down day. We have to keep telling ourselves we don’t have to do everything during the first week. Slept in till 10ish. Herman and I out for our usual morning levee walk. A little cooler today. Watched the Norwegian Princess make a laborious u-turn just short of the bridge (too big to go under!) to head out to the Gulf. Brunch of leftover leftover red beans and rice with a link of crawfish andouille sausage chopped in and topped with a fried egg. Toast and locally made raspberry preserves. A slice of Rouse’s grocery king cake for desert. The 3rd cake we’ve sampled and the best so far!

Last night a romp in the Quarter. Took the ferry over to met our friends Steve and Laurie for cocktails at the Carousel Lounge in the Hotel Monteleone. The lounge is dominated by a revolving bar with all the appearances of a carnival carousel except horses are replaced with barstools and carnie staff is replaced by tux vested bartenders making Vieux Carres’s (invented in this bar) as fast as they can for the revealers of tourists, conventioneers (Budweiser in town), cruise passengers, and semi-locals like ourselves. Been walking for 2 days, my feet are killing me and now I still have to literally walk in circles to keep up with the seated ladies! Next a stroll to Frenchman St to catch a set of the Royal Roses at the Masion. Drums, guitar, and tuba with sax, trumpet and clarinet (young woman had small role on HBO’s Treme) seated in front. They were great playing old jazz with a little Dixieland thrown in for the tourists. A walk back thru the Quarter dodging police zipping around in golf carts (complete with blue light flashing) and across the front of St. Louis Cathedral past candle (and phone) lit psychic readers and  skateboarders hopping the steps in the dark brought us to the Redfish Grill for dinner. A new establishment since Katrina it has developed quite a following. My wood grilled redfish and sautéed gulf shrimp with Tasso and roasted mushroom pontabla potatoes and lemon butter sauce was cooked to protection with just enough spice to let me know it was there. Sarah’s fried catfish smothered in crawfish étouffée (her fav) must have been acceptable since she didn’t offer her usual share! After hugs and “goodbyes” to our friends, we watch a gentleman casually switch out his license plate as we await out Uber on Canal St. A quick and easy ride home put us in bed by midnight feeling almost like adults staying out so late.

Streetcar adventures

1/21/18  Streetcar named.....lost

Today was fun. Just so everyone can rest easy (and I don’t even know if I’ve talked about this yet) our water is running and we dodged the bullet of broken pipes. Plumbers are busy in the neighborhood. Folks on the east bank are still told to boil water but they don’t seem to care. Between the lax laws about drinking (togo cups at all the doors), questionable need to close establishments due to health concerns (boil the damn water), no level sidewalk anywhere (never mind ADA), and parades can spontaneously materialize at any time blocking traffic until over (motorist seeming to take this in stride) this is one laid back city.

Per our usual morning routine, Herman and I go walking on the levee two blocks from the house. Usually alone, I let him run free while I saunter watching the barges and cruise ships jockey for position on the river. Of course, all new to him, Herman runs along until a scent catches his nose. It’s a good four steps before his back end has figured out his front end has made a hard right! As a wingman, he is failing me as a babe magnet but we know the names of every dog in a 4 block area.

Sarah and I went into town today. Caught the pedestrian ferry to the base of Canal St. A 5 min ride for $1 reduced fare since we are old.  Thought we’d take the streetcar to the end of the line. Easy to catch the Canal St line. At 40 cents (again for being old!) pretty reasonable but we opted for the $3 all day pass. Just flashing the pass is much more convenient than juggling exact change. Folks with Nebraska t-shirts and fanny packs asking me directions. Do I LOOK like a local?? With no agenda and no where to be until March, I can easily lean against a street lamp looking cool. Then, trying to get off the streetcar, the doors won’t open. Am advised by someone more local than me to wait till the light comes on over the door. 

We decide to check out the Southern Food and Beverage Museum. It just happens that one of NO’s premier restaurants, Toutes, shares the same building. Well, it was time for brunch anyway. Mimosas accompanying biscuits with crab roe butter and grilled head-on gulf shrimp over andouille grits and smothered with tomato salsa was just what was needed after a hard streetcar ride and to fortify ourselves for the museum. 

Yesterday was fun too! We forgo the kids’ parade in Algiers to participate as we thought was necessary, The Women’s March. Joining throngs of women, and men, and a lot of kids we listened to speeches from a variety of female political figures: the mayor, the first woman to hold this position, has yet to be inaugurated pending investigation re inappropriate use of funds (hey, this is still Louisiana!), and a female head of NO health and welfare department, the first transgender woman to hold public office. The 3 mile march wove us into the French Quarter at which point Sarah and I peeled off to get hydrated at Crescent Brewery and sample their savory crawfish cheesecake. Politics, booze and food. Only in New Orleans.  

1/18/18 Isolated on the West Bank....

Congregation Coffee Roasters just up the street. City still frozen but a glorious bright blue bird egg sky morning. All interstates still closed, ferry still closed. Car doors frozen closed. Totally isolated on the West Bank. At least we don’t have to boil water as they are suggesting for folks on the east side. Apparently with all the broken water pipes and people running water all night to keep pipes from freezing there isn’t enough water pressure at the treatment plants to assure adequate protection. Thankfully we made grocery shopping as priority the first day and there’s plenty of partially used variety of dried beans and pasta left from previous renters. Folks a little ignorant about freezing weather here. Conversation in the coffee shop is about how “some people” have houses that are insulated and one of the workers here cracked her windshield this morning by pouring hot water on it to de-ice! 

I suspect we will again hang low today exploring the neighborhood and checking out the few eating and drinking establishments near by. (All the while trying to avoid broken hips!) If the ferry starts running again we might go into the French Quarter. Otherwise, it’s curl up on the couch with the dog and get imaginative for dinner. Herman and I do enjoy our walks. The levee is one block behind our place so we march up there to watch the barges cruise by on the river, marvel at the N.O skyline and supervise the maritime works in the dry dock as they re-outfit a bright red tug boat. Of course, H has to stop and smell everything and is learning to be cautious stepping onto ice. He fell thru this morning. Thankfully it was just a puddle so he got wet only up to his knees!

Go to N.O they said......

1/17/18  Brrrrrr......

Go to New Orleans, they said. It’ll be warm, they said!!

Twenty degrees and woke up to snow on the ground. Not like snow we know but enough to paralyze this whole town. Schools closed. Roads closed. Now sunny and bright but still cold and iced. Sarah and I decide not to drive anywhere. Not so much due to the weather and road conditions but locals inability to function in these conditions. Finally stir crazy reading discarded magazines and travel brochures we walked the block and a half to the Crown & Anchor English Pub. Entering thru the blue Tardis police box we are greeted warmly by the bar keep and informed there is no draft, no cocktails involving water, and no bathrooms. Pipes are frozen! Just like ours!! Well, we do have cold water but not hot. Kept the faucets dripping all night. We can live with that. And we have heat altho Herman has stayed in his jacket, which he usually hates and squirms out of, all night and today. 

Went to Mardi Gras World yesterday. The primary creators and fabricators of the Carnival floats, their cavernous warehouse is packed with styrofoam and papier-mâché larger than life characters of every imaginative creature. There’s 15 foot tall pirates, voluptuous dancing girls, King Kong and family, bats, birds, snakes, Bart Simpson and family, and semi-truck size floats decked out in plywood flowers being prepped to roll for upcoming parades. Taken for granted all my life that these floats just “got made” it never occurred to me the artistic and obsessive process involved. Blane Kern’s company also makes figurines and landscapes for Disney, Universal Studios, many of the casinos, advertising (the Chick-a-filet cows!), and anything else limited only by imagination or finances. 

Arrive NOLA

1/15/17  Arrived NOLA

First phase of our trip is done. Arrived in New Orleans yesterday and moved in to our lovely abode on Bouny St in Algiers. Across the mighty Mississippi River from New Orleans proper we are a $1 pedestrian ferry ride from the base of Canal St near the French Quarter. Algiers, the second oldest neighborhood in N.O, it has shown a slow economic growth over the decades (centuries?) but is now enjoying a certain popularity (read “gentrification”). Racially diverse with areas of continued segregation there is limited infrastructure in the immediate area. Other than a couple of bars, 2 coffee shops and a few 7-11 type stores there are few options for shopping. Today, we’ll meet friends in town and make a grocery run as a priority. 

Home is an older, well kept “shotgun”. Double barrel shotgun actually; a duplex. Given that real estate has always been a premium in this area, many of the houses are built on very narrow parcels. Shotgun describes the fact that one can shoot a shotgun thru the front door with the bullets going thru every room till exiting out the back. Living room on the street (this one closed off as private), followed by bedroom with small bath off to the side, sitting/dining room, then kitchen, and finally back mud/utility room. We also have a small 12 x 12 fenced in patio in the back. Decorated with numerous black and white photos in black frames, folk art of stylized  creatures, and the ubiquitous Mardi Gras beads there is a definite funkiness with a bit of a voodoo flair. Fully furnished and a fully appointed kitchen, this will be just fine for the next 4 weeks. Herman is already quite comfortable on the couch!

Going back....

Lafayette, LA 1/12/18

Today is a sad day. Bill Black, known thruout the Baton Rouge TV viewing area as Buckskin Bill died today. I spent most of my youthful mornings watching The Buckskin Bill show. I would join Buckskin every Monday with the Monday morning march using whatever was available as a baton then settled in to watch the Little Rascals and Bill’s antics with a wooden marionette,  Senor Puppet. A more popular personality than any celebrity in any parade, Buckskin Bill ended every show with “Remember Baton Rouge needs a zoo” and “You are never completely dressed until you put on a smile” and thanks to the penny drive thousands of children donated $6000 to purchase two elephants, Penny and Penny 2, for the new BR zoo. Buckskin Bill now forever in Storyland.

Other than the rush into nostalgia with the TV commemoration for Buckskin, there is little personal reflection for me in this town. They say “you can never go back” and that is certainly the case here in Lafayette. Graduating nursing school at USL (University of Southwestern La) now called UL of Lafayette and driving around a city changed by 40 years of history, this is a town I don’t recognize. Thank goodness Siri knows her way around. And the food! The food has not changed. Roast beef poboy for me and catfish for Sarah for lunch and the best 7-course Cajun dinner ever: a pound of boudin and a 6-pack. 

Drowning in east Texas....

OMG!!!!!  Left Austin early to overcast skies. By the time we got to Houston it was pouring down rain. I mean visibility about 75 yards! Trucks throwing blinding wakes at 60 MPH. White knuckled hands cramping on the wheel. Sarah too nervous to watch trying to knit. The dog sleeping obliviously. Hoping to blast to Lafayette to meet up with our friends, Steve and Laurie but bailed in Orange, Tx just west of the La border. Peeled my hands off the steering wheel and booked a room at Motel 6, the fourth place we tried to allow poor Herman. Assured the comfort of the wife and the dog then back out to hunt down vittles. A 9 piece chicken dinner from Church’s, a couple of bananas and yogurt for b’fast and a quick run into Red’s Liquor store for a fifth of Jim Beam. Now, belly full, dog gone to bed, two fingers bourbon down, and Sarah and I binge watching news. (Making my blood pressure go higher than the drive!!)

Had a wonderful visit in Austin albeit brief. Stopped in Bastrop about 15 miles out of town for breakfast. Maxine’s dinner for eggs, sausage, biscuits and grits. Refreshing to be served by tatted pierced  polite and friendly folks in an assumed redneck conservative environment. Having fantasies of this being our winter sojourn next winter. But have had that fantasy before and will likely have it many more times before this trip is over. 

Austin, Texas

Wed 1/10/17  Austin, Texas

Arrived here yesterday, driving I-10 (speed limit 80!), exchanging desert for Texas hill country. Moisture in the air! Siri led us straight to my old college friend, Gene. Plagued with debilitating allergies this time of year, Herman isn’t welcomed, so lodging procured at McKenney State Park on the edge of town. Well maintained complex populated with oaks and, er, trees; cheap and quite comfy..........Darren and his partner, the camp hosts, just drove by in their little green golf cart to say “howdy”. From Bend they have been traveling around, hosting, at various parks. Stood in the street, drinking coffee and talking weather, park accommodations from here to southern Calif., pros/cons of traveling armed, and beer. 

To Gene’s for b’fast. (Herman cloistered in the car. New temporary name: Anna for anaphylaxis). Almost 65 yrs old and the girl doesn’t know how to make an over easy egg?! I gave lessons and had her flipping 2 eggs at once with nary a broken yoke. She was so excited and can’t wait to show her husband. Two hour breakfast and a load of laundry doesn’t near cover the 40 years of reminiscing. Plans for genuine Tex-Mex tonight.

Dinner last night with Gene and Jim at Threadgill’s, an Austin institution. For me, a big pile of fried chicken livers, fried okra and a mess of collards took me back to my college days visiting here. I remember 8 deep at the bar waiting for a table. Last night apparently a slow Tues. Pictures of the old Armadillo World Headquarters music hall along with rock and blues legends lining the walls.

Points south....

Ok, ok, ok......I told folks I would “try” to post, so here......

Sunday, 1/7/28.......Picacho Peak State Park. About 30 miles west of Tucson. Drifted in just at dusk.  Red sky quickly fading to gray. Then black. Very very black! Tent set up with the waning light. Dinner of ham (left over from lunch) burritos by glow of head lights. Jewels of moving lights stretching along I-10 west and east. The hum of trucks to serenade as we do chores (my writing. Sarah organizing something yet again!). Herman patiently waiting by the the tent door until allowed in to go to bed. Damn dog’s been sleeping in the car all day and still can’t get into his tent bed fast enough!

Today drove from Anza Borrego Desert State Park 150 miles east of San Diego. Tamarac Campground with the only available shade (imported tamarack trees) and no potable water. Coming from a land where water routinely falls from the sky, one has to adapt a new mind set in the desert. Don’t expect readily available water and certainly don’t expect it to be free! We plan our day where we can obtain water and adjust our activity accordingly. Oh, and after the first day, we remember to water the dog! Snipits: a dozen hot sports cars racing past the campground at 7am; big horn sheep on the hill; morning coffee clutch of the guys lined up in formation with their dusty golf carts at Ironwood Resort bitching about cholesterol and salt restrictions; shopping at Walmart, the traveler’s oasis, hit and run rear ended on freeway in San Diego at rush hour (no apparent damage but pissed me off!)

Awakened at 6am to the most spectacular red and blue sky backlighting 15 foot saguaro cacti. The air cool and winds now calm. Fuel about gone for the stove so only a cup of lukewarm coffee before hitting the road east.

The ordered chaos from the Tetris School of car packing has deteriorated into the reality of willy-nilly! Easy access to luggage is now accomplished by not even bothering to zip bags closed. Torn maps of Calif are now at the bottom of the pile, overlaid by Arizona and New Mexico. Charging cables snaking here and there searching for hungry batteries. Devises 

tucked into nooks and crannies. Chip bags and empty coffee cups migrating around and warm coats still pilled on the floor of the back seat, obviously no longer needed. Herman riding copilot on top of his kennel bored with head hanging down in pretty good imitation of Snoopy on his dog house. Search of local radio stations for NPR reveals right wing talk show or Mexican music. We settle on Mexican. 

Trying to coordinate and time our arrival in Austin tomorrow for the convenience of our friend and host, Gene, we get a room at the Super 8 in Van Horn, Texas. Should actually be able to get up and moving at dawn rather than breaking camp for an hour. McDonalds right next door for breakfast. Dinner tonight cleared out our larder of left over ham, wilted lettuce, questionable cheese, and instant microwaved mashed potatoes. Oh, and finishing off the Jim Beam. Sarah now over her panic about loosing her checkbook. Pulled every piece of luggage and assorted boxes and bags out of the car, emptied the contents, cussed and moaned...then found it in her purse. Yep, Jim Beam’s about gone!