I had the opportunity to visit the Big Easy for a few days this past week. My first trip to the south. It was a random choice, like most vacations I take. This time though...it was a girly trip. No boys. And can you guess where the girls hung out??..... the swamp....with the gators. We fed them and held them . It was just like the Pirates of the Caribbean only in the daylight, but plenty creepy to tide me over for a while. The swamp was just how one would imagine with rickety shacks, moss, cypress tress, snakes and gators galore.
I also spent a little time at a Plantation called Oak Alley. The picture below is the row of trees leading up to the house. I have adored "Gone with the Wind" since I was a wee one and this was the most opulent and grandeur home I had ever visited. Not because of the house itself, but because of its grounds. The only regret I had while visiting was that my mom wasn't there with me. I know she would have adored it just as much as I did and I know she would have been thinking about Rhett Butler the whole time too.
The city of New Orleans was a bit indescribable....but I'll try. It's hot and humid and muggy, and for a Wyoming girl with frizzy unruly hair, it was impossible to be pretty. I have a new respect for southern bells and their beauty..or their ability to stay dry in the humid air. The humidity brings a certain feel to the whole city though. The music flows as fast and as hard as the Mississippi, and the jazz is haunty. It's upbeat in sad way. It's a bold and audacious town. Unapologetic for it's brash behaviors. Bourbon street is like none other I've seen and I'm glad to say I witnessed it with my own two eyes. It's primarily a Catholic region which is something that surprised me. They do not have southern accents...they speak with somewhat of a Brooklyn/ Creole accent instead which also surprised me. A good number of the tourists had southern drawls though. There were art galleries on every corner and everything is displayed with pride in its beauty, no matter what that definition of beauty might be. Superstition is a pastime and adds to the mysteriousness of the city.
The town has really come together to rebuild itself. We saw a little of the damage that was done. We did not visit the 9th ward though. Some of the stories we heard were horrific, but it's getting better. It will just take time.