I Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans

Bye.

Bye to the waitress at Muriel's who laughed with me about people who claim to be allergic to black pepper; to the man in line at Rouse's Grocery who told us about carrying an AK-47 in the Ninth Ward after Katrina; to the cabbie who laughed and laughed and told us "eat? You gone gain fi' hunnerd pounds, you eat so good in this town"; to our hosts, who care so much about their 1830s Creole home, and about all the history in the French Quarter; to the man standing next to our courtyard yesterday at noon, laughing and naked from the waist down; to Dan and Forrest and John, the Habitat guys, who smiled and cheered us on even when we measured wrong; to the Vietnamese waiter at Cafe du Monde, who offered to bring us coffee and beignet so we didn't have to wait in line; to Wally, who spoke so kindly to the volunteers as he was handed wine and bread and the key to his new Ninth Ward home; to the little girl in glasses and crinoline who handed me a flower from her horse-drawn carriage; to so many, many more.

Bye, y'all.

Lawd, Lawd, Lawd

New Orleans, at last

What you see in the photo is a from-the-car shot while we were driving into NOLA -- it's the bayou, and we were driving along an interstate highway that, for miles and miles, was set on pilings. It's a wet place!

We've had coffee at Cafe du Monde (bought some coffee and beignet mix to bring home, Max and Olivia!), visited the Absinthe Museum (got you a postcard, Kristen!), went for a riverboat ride down the Mississippi, listened to jazz on Bourbon Street, and watched "All About Eve" projected onto the side of the Clover Grill while drinking beer on the sidewalk. Clover Grill burgers! Fried under a hub cap! Awesome!

Tomorrow is Habitat day, as is Thursday; hope to have photos of our work there. Just had a lovely chat with one of our hosts, who told us a bit about life after Katrina: no mail service for over a year, an hour's drive to buy groceries, a three-day wait to have a prescription filled. And they were lucky: the French Quarter was the "sliver on the river" that wasn't terribly damaged by Katrina or by the subsequent levee failures, and their cleanup was minimal. For the rest of the city -- 80% of which was under water -- there was a lot of work, which continues today, nearly five years later.

As I said, it's a wet place.

Kentucky: Beauty, Wealth, Horses

Today we traveled from Medina, Ohio, to Bowling Green, Kentucky, where we're staying the night. En route we stopped at the Kentucky Horse Park -- great place to see, with rolling Kentucky hills and verdant Kentucky fields and strapping Kentucky horses. Lovely -- we even saw an extravagant, decadent "castle" house -- yes, we're certain it was a private home -- set in acres of perfect lawn, with turrets and stone walls and everything. It wasn't a pretend-castle; it was, actually, a castle, and it made us gasp at the incredible wealth.

But while it's pretty to look at, we're not getting the sense that we're really seeing America. We're realizing that, in our efforts to be cost-effective and expedient in our journey to NOLA, we chose to travel only by the interstate highway system. Fine, but the problem is that we see only the following things:

a) Cracker Barrel
b) McDonald's
c) Bob Evans
d) Various mom and pop gas stations
e) Rarely, a Castle-House or otherwise postcard-perfect scene

In other words, there's very little opportunity to actually see how people are: what bars they like, their homes, hear what they think. The people we meet are wonderfully nice: genuine, kind, friendly. But when they're bringing your food and wishing y'all a nice day, now, there's just no chance to get to know them, even a little.

Next trip, we would eschew (and how many times have you used THAT word, folks?) the interstates in favour of the off-the-beaten track routes. Slower, and more expensive, but I think we'd get more of a real American Road Trip out of our American Road Trip.

P.S.: Kenton adds: "although we're not seeing ALL of America, we are, in fact, seeing at least a part of it." He's right: yeah, there's loads of fast food joints and private booze establishments and more State Troopers than I've ever seen in an episode of C*H*I*P*s, but there are also, consistently, sweet and friendly people. They work in these places -- and yet they smile and are kind and warm to us. Thanks to them.

I've Learned Something Today.

Lesson #1: Do NOT Try to Take Cuban Cigars Over the U.S. Border.

Border Guard: "Hello, folks. Do you have any firearms, alcohol, or tobacco products?"

Kenton: "Nn --"

Teresa: "Oh -- yes, we do! We have those cigars. Those ones we got in Cuba, you remember --"

B.G.: "Okay, where'd you get the cigars?"

Kenton: "Ah ..."

Teresa: "Cuba. We got them in Cuba, when we were in Cuba last year."

B.G.: (Sighing) Okay, sir, give me you keys. Let's take a look to see if they're REALLY CUBAN CIGARS."

... few minutes wait, during which K.andT. are thinking "honesty is the best policy! I'm sure we'll be on our way shortly."

B.G.: "Put your four-ways on, drive over there, park, and go into that building."

... oh ... dear ...

Later, after a twenty-minute wait:

New Border Guard: "So what are you trying to bring into the U.S. today?"

Kenton: "Cigars. Cuban cigars."

N.B.G'.: "Are you SURE they Cuban?"

Teresa: "Oh, yes. We bought them in Cuba."

N.B.G.: "You realize there's an embargo against anything Cuban coming into the U.S.?"

Kenton: "Um..."

N.B.G.: "Okay, give me your keys, we'll take a look."

At this point, Kenton is starting to think about things ... like how we've just insisted that yes, we are attempting to bring in illegal contraband to the United States. Oh, yes, absolutely, those are cuban cigars. No doubt in our minds, officer. Then Kenton starts to realize that this could involve a fine. Yeah, probably a fine. At least. Not to mention no more cigars, and jeez hopefully we won't have to go into that little locked room over there.

Finally, the N.B.G. returns from their strip-search of our car.

N.B.G. "How long you been a firefighter?"

Kenton: "About ten years."

N.B.G.: "Couldn't pass the intelligence test to be a police officer, huh?" (Ha ha ha, and we heartily joined in. Ha ha ha, no sir, that's for sure, boy howdy are we dumb, ha ha)

And then, a miracle:

N.B.G.: "Here are your passports --"

K/T: "Thank you! Oh, thank you, we really --"

N.B.G.: "-- and here are you cigars. They're Dominicans, by the way -- you were ripped off. Have a good trip."

Ha ha ha, ho ho, and we thanked them profusely as we scampered back to our car. Thank God we had the firefighter license plate -- as Kenton said, "That damn thing's paid for itself."

And ... we're off!

Bye, y'all! Maybe you'll see us here, in Jackson Square.

Our Habitat for Humanity Assignment

We just received our Habitat for Humanity assignment: we're to meet at 4805 Flake Avenue in New Orleans. So I Google-Earthed the address, and here's what I found ...

The image on the left is from August of 2005 -- guess what had just happened.

The image below that is from May of 2006.

Hopefully, we'll see that there's been a lot of work done when we arrive ... sure hope so, anyway.