Crossing Those State Lines

My plan was to record crossing each state line as we went from Louisiana to Florida. So, that would have been Mississippi and then Alabama and then Florida.  It takes me longer to get from my home in Pasadena, Texas, to the closest state line than it took us to get across the parts of Mississippi and Alabama we crossed on I-10.  The next state line just seemed to catch me off guard.  So, this was the best I could do as far as state line signs on the way to Florida. Maybe next time.

In Mississippi, we headed south to Gulfport to travel the coast of the Gulf. Numerous empty beachfront lots for sale mixed in with obvious new construction on other lots was evidence of Hurricane Katrina.  The devastation was still obvious all these years later.  As I saw structures that had obviously weathered the storm, I wondered what kept them safe while structures on either side were wiped out.  You know me by now, I always wonder at those dynamics of life that leave one person, structure, whatever, still standing while everyone or everything else is devastated.  Things that make you go Hmm.

We rolled the windows down, I felt the wind in my hair, and I watched the Mississippi and Alabama Gulf of Mexico beaches roll by outside the passenger side window of the car.  I had always heard that the water east of the Mississippi River was clear but it looked pretty much like the water in Galveston.  Alas, another disillusionment (just kidding).  I didn’t take it that seriously.

Finally, we reached Florida.  YIPPEE!!

New Orleans P.S.

These are just some pics I took in New Orleans--a little of this and a little of that.  They make me want to break the paint and canvas and see what happens.  Maybe I will.

Ready for dinner service.

Who wouldn't feel pretty in these
colorful skirts?

Antique cast iron downspout.
How many gallons of rainwater have passed
through here?

Front row seat overlooking
Bourbon Street.

If only these brick could talk.

Napoleon never made it to Louisiana but
his house still stands.

 

Painted house number in mosaic on
door stoop.

Our little soldier with a big soldier.

New Orleans - Almost Slidell

After an afternoon in the Quarter, we headed for the motel for the night.  We were a little dismayed when we drove up but, all in all, it was a good motel true to their statement.

Dinner wasn’t of the same caliber as lunch had been but it was fresh and hot and welcomed by all.

Watching this episode of Star Trek in the motel, I've got to wonder how this man came to wear this outfit.  I mean, it's silver lame with lace and a necklace, for goodness' sake.  Several scenarios come to mind.  The designer is secretly outing this guy.  This is payback from a gay designer who was slighted by this he-man type.  Someone had a bet that they could get a man in drag on a Star Trek episode in the 70s.  Any ideas?

After a good night’s rest, we were ready to set out for breakfast the next morning on Father’s Day 2014.  GPS directed us to a Shoney’s in Slidell (that’s sly-DELL, Siri).  Arrival at destination 20 minutes later revealed a sign that said it was closed for remodeling.  A quick call to the local Cracker Barrel and we found that they only had a 15-minute wait even on Father’s Day.  A 5-minute drive proved they were lying as we saw the line extending out into the parking lot.  What to do, what to do.  Trusty modern technology found The Big Easy Diner another 5 minutes away with no wait if we hurried up.

Most people show you their plates full of the food but I was so hungry by the time we found a restaurant that was open and could seat us that I didn’t have time to take a picture of it.  You’ll have to take my word for the presentation.  I think you can see by the way I decimated this plate that it was good food.  Yep, 2 eggs over easy, crispy corned beef hash patties, creamy Southern grits like I’ve never tasted before and a biscuit worthy of my grandmother’s reputation.  Yummy!!

Honey Rose, the Horse

After we left the Mississippi River, we decided to take a carriage ride.  I’ve never been on one of these carriage rides because I’ve always balked at the prices charged.  However, we were on vacation and my feet were telling me they would welcome a rest.  Riding through the Quarter would allow me to see much more of it than walking.

I'm okay,, really -- Alicia

Alicia had to be hoisted onto the carriage because she’s always wanted her feet planted firmly on solid ground.  Once she was installed on the bench, she reassured us in her classic way, “I’m okay, really.” 




Jose got to ride up front with the driver and challenged the man’s patience as he asked questions not about the history of the Quarter but about the horsewhip that was in the front seat of the carriage.  The driver artfully dodged the obvious answer, “It’s for whipping the horse when she won’t go fast enough” with evasive answers like, “It’s just something I need to use sometimes.”  They had three exchanges about the horsewhip and each time I could see the driver struggling with how to word his answer so as to sidestep the real use of the whip but still give a credible-sounding answer.  It was quite interesting.

Honey Rose, the horse, was a rather sad-looking specimen of a horse.  Her dispirited gait made me a little tired.  Between the driver’s heavy Cajun accent and his dentally-challenged condition, we didn’t benefit much from his speeches about the history of the Quarter.  He was diligent about reciting his information and he was well-dressed.  He knew lots of other folks along the way that looked right at home in the Quarter—obviously Quarter denizens.  Again, I found myself wondering about alternate lifestyles.  What must it be like to work in this environment, day in and day out?

Turning onto Bourbon Street, our senses were assaulted by the sights, sounds and, oh, yes, smells of that part of the Quarter.  The vibe there was so different than it was just a few streets away at Jackson Square.  I was reminded of the first time I was on Bourbon Street.  I was 16 and my family was visiting New Orleans as a day stop on a trip we were taking to the East Coast.  I remember the energy level being high as we walked along the street in the sweltering heat of a New Orleans summer.  I saw a cluster of people outside an open door to one of the establishments.  I felt the cool air coming through the open door and joined at the back of the crowd to get some relief from the heat.  Over the heads and shoulders of the people in front of me (mostly men) I could see into the darkened room.  The scene burned into my young, sensitive brain was in varying shades of red.  There, on stage, was a dancing woman actually TAKING OFF HER CLOTHES.  This would have been about 1966 so I don’t know how much of her clothing she would ultimately remove but she was far less clothed than any woman I had ever seen in public or anywhere else, for that matter.  My dad noticed I had stopped and, when he followed my gaze, he quickly pulled me away from the crowd and we continued our trek.  Surely those were some of those “sinners” that they preached about in church on Sundays.

Honey Rose languidly brought us back to the point of origin and we alit from the carriage.  I hope life as a carriage horse isn’t really as bad as the animal rights folks paint it but I have a feeling it’s not all that great.

The Mighty Mississippi

I've already shared my feelings for this grand waterway.  It's muddy and ugly but it's powerful and has such a history.  The largest body of water I've ever lived near is a drainage ditch.  I always wonder what it would be like to live near a big body of water, day in and day out.  Living in such a place must form those who live there in a different way than those of us who live land-locked.  Duh, right?  Anyway, it makes the dreamer in me start to wonder what it must mean to have the energy of moving water available on a daily basis.  Maybe my spirit is too sensitive to handle that much exposure.  Maybe it takes a special spirit to either be more immune to the power of that energy or be able to handle it.  In any case, here's our time spent looking at the Mighty Mississippi.  Roll on, river, roll on.

Auntie Amber with Jose.

Armando "Tom Sawyer" Guevara

One last pic from the river bank
Anna and Amber

Huck Finn and Tom Sawyee

Photo Op #2 - Gimme a Kiss

Gimme a kiss- 1st request

Gimme a kiss - 2nd request

Gimme a kiss - 3rd request

I don't know who I thought he was asking!

Grandpa, Grandma, Grandkid

Jackson Square

I almost had a reading by one of the Tarot card readers but decided not to.  Maybe next time.  People watching, art watching, burning off calories from the massive lunch--I enjoyed Jackson Square.  

Amber, Alicia, Armando, Jose, Anna

Alicia's comment, "I am not an alligator."

Photo Op #1 - Strike a Pose

Hey, fellas, stand in front of this window.

Y'all don't look too happy.

Come on, you can at least smile.

Better but let's see some life.

Come on.  You can do it..

Strike a pose.

That's what I'm saying.

Now we're talking.

NOLA, Naw-Leans, The Big Easy

Whatever you call it, it's AMAZING.  When I stepped foot into the French Quarter for the first time as an adult 10 years ago, I felt the history of this place wash over me like the ripples radiating from a stone dropped in a quiet lake.  As I walked the slate sidewalks, I thought of how many thousands, hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of feet had walked in this same space, perhaps on these same tiles.  Blew my mind.

After eating that fabulous food at Pierre Maspero's, we struck out through the Quarter. This place assaults the senses.  The sound of the wedding parade marching down the streets outside the restaurant.  The colorful scenes everywhere you look.  People from absolutely EVERY socioeconomic level in this country.  Narrow streets where cars fight with horse-drawn carriages and pedestrians to make headway.  Those poor UPS and FedEx drivers haven't got a chance.  I won't even mention the smells because, other than an occasional olfactory glimpse of food, the fragrances wafting their way through these streets aren't anywhere near delightful.  But that doesn't seem to diminish the attraction of this unique place.

Pierre Maspero's - Cuisine Extraordinaire (that's French)

Our first stop in the Quarter was Pierre Maspero's at the insistence of Anna and Amber.  They were spot on with this suggestion.  The pic to the left was just the beginning of a food orgy that left us very happy.  BBQ shrimp (pictured), crab cakes, jambalaya, etouffee, fried shrimp, bread pudding and cheesecake..  I think I may have even left something out.  I've never seen such plump shrimp in all my years of eating shrimp in Houston.  The bread pudding was almost a spiritual experience.  Nuf said.

Lunch with the Blues Brothers.

One straw wasn't enough for Alicia.

Swamp Man

The closest Armando had ever come to a swamp was some reality show about the folks that live there.  So, we pulled over on the shoulder of I-10 in Louisiana and he ventured into a swamp.











This is him fighting off the insects that quickly found this human intruder in their domain. He got his fill of that pretty fast.