Austin

March 29, 2018

Austin, the capital of the Lone Star State is a booming area known for its music and food scene. Except for driving through Texas and flying in and out of DFW dozens of times, Jenny and I haven’t been here (Billy of course has many times), so we chose Austin as another one of our long weekend, get-to-know-the-US, destinations. Up until the day we arrived, Austin had seen a deluge of rain, up to 5 inches in 24 hours, but the weather had moved on for our arrival. We awoke to bluebird skies, dry air with a slight chill in the air and a steady breeze-our favorite conditions. Our hotel is located on the banks of the Colorado River and Lady Bird Lake, so we walked along the foot trail and crossed the River to the downtown area to go have breakfast at a spot Billy had selected.

The food was fine, nothing to write home about but it filled our hungry that bellies that never had dinner the night before! Billy had read that one of the top bike shops in the US was located in Austin and was just a short jaunt from where we had breakfast, so after paying homage to a statue of Willie Nelson, we made our way to Mellow Johnny’s Bike Shop.

Mellow Johnny’s was founded by Lance Armstrong, someone I am no fan of. ts name actually a play on the French words “maillot jaune”, meaning “yellow jersey”; and just an added bit of info the name of the adjoining coffee shop, Juan Pelota, is a play on Spanish words “one ball”. The humor of that is about the only redeeming thing I can say about him! The bike shop was cool, located in a historic warehouse building and Billy and Jenny had fun “shopping”-jenny insisting that Billy buy a jersey instead of a t-shirt. Since we had gone in a completely opposite direction of what I had thought we would do today, I went with it and changed plans. Leaving the bike shop we continued along 6th Avenue, clearly a road meant for those whose sole purpose is to drink the night away bar hopping from one establishment to its neighbor.-not exactly our cup of tea. We arrived at our next destination, Waterloo Records-the best record store in the city. They had a huge selection but most were new, and we were most interested in used. We did manage to pick up a few -Led Zepplin, Bob Marley, Flatt and Scruggs (an old bluegrass duo), a double album of Dick Clark’s classic rock n roll choices and a few other never heard of bands that Jenny bought more for the cover art than any knowledge of the actual music.

We headed out from Waterloo further north and a bit west towards our next destination-Hope Outdoor Gallery. Along the way, we walked through a lovely neighborhood of older elaborate homes on one side and arts and crafts style bungalows on the other. We all said it would be a nice neighborhood to live in if we should ever find ourselves moving to Austin.

Hope Outdoor Gallery is really nothing more now than a tiered graffiti park found on the remnant foundations of a hillside complex of some sort. At one time, it was an actual gallery of murals done by local artists but since the announcement that the walls would be torn down it was left to anybody who has the inclination and the $6.99 to buy a can of spray paint, which by the looks of things appears mandatory to leave it behind when you are done. It was an interesting photo op, and I knew one that both Jenny and Billy would appreciate with their new cameras and for Jenny especially, the Instagram worthy pics!

From the top of the hill, we caught our first glimpse of the capitol building. It looked like quite the edifice from our perch and having heard so much about it, we decided to forgo the plan to Uber back to the hotel to drop off the records which were quite cumbersome and instead walk to the capitol building. We had a nice walk and actually came across our first batch of blue bonnets-so dainty and beautiful. I can only imagine what acres and acres of these azure beauties look like.

The ochre capitol building was really quite a sight, looking something like the nation’s capitol, though actually taller, but with Goddess of Liberty at the apex. We strolled along the grounds, through the park-like setting, admiring the various monuments and statues along the way before deciding it was getting late and we were getting hungry.

A quick review of Trip Advisor and we settled on a restaurant called Eureka, less than a block from the famous Driscoll Hotel. Lunch was quite good, in an industrialized space that seems to be ever popular nowadays. Following lunch, we decided to have dessert at Voodoo Doughnuts (located two doors down). VD is the legend, the shop that pretty much started the donut craze (sort of like the Sprinkles of cupcakes) and a shop Jenny and I have been waiting to try. We entered to find a hefty line but figured we would tough it out. Billy didn’t last long before he headed out the door as the line was about as slow as slow could be and at one point I finally texted Billy and told him to head to the hotel if he wanted and we would meet him there. He assured me he was fine; he was across the street at the Chuggin Monkey having a beer listening to some band killing their version of Dolly Parton’s Jolene-too too funny!

After 25 agonizing minutes, we finally made it to the cashier and ordered four donuts-Mexican chocolate, rainbow sprinkled, Captain Crunch, and the Voodoo Daddy (a donut shaped like a voodoo doll with chocolate frosting and jelly inside with a thin pretzel stick jabbed in its gut-nice!).

The donuts were actually quite good, with the preference going to the simpler of the four we tried. We ranked them third or fourth in our highly scientific, “Best Ever Donut Survey.” After our gluttony almost got the better of us, we went to fetch Billy at the Chuggin Monkey and head to the hotel. The band was ripping when we got there and they were every bit as good as Billy had assured me in his texts.

Of course the walk back included multiple stops for shopping-a very large Patagonia store and a killer Yeti store-with its own bar, were the highlights.

Upon dropping our bags, soothing Jenny’s blistered feet and allowing Billy a nap, we had little time before dinner (yes, another meal!). I left Jenny and Billy to finish their chilaxing and went down to the terrace that overlooks Lady Bird Lake to have a glass of wine and enjoy the absolutely postcard perfect weather Austin was having. After wandering the streets for near to five miles, the time sitting and watching all the kayakers, SUPers, and paddle boaters was enjoyable.

As time was now running short for our 6:15 reservation, we grabbed an electrified six seater golf cart that was out front waiting to take us the mile and a half to the restaurant. We laugh that we haven’t been that ripped off by a taxi since our cab ride in Portugal, and we speak the language-$20 plus tip (the return ride was $7 with Uber)!

Dinner was at a restaurant called Odd Duck, and how did we come up with this place? Well, there’s a story behind it: While waiting in line to buy some water and nuts at one of the kiosks at BWI, a young girl of say 16-18 years had two items. She asked the cashier how much the bag of peanut butter M&Ms were and upon hearing the exorbitant price, she stated she didn’t have enough money and so pushed them aside and paid for the bag of nuts. The gentleman standing in line behind her and in front of me, picked them up and told the cashier he would pay for them for her. The young girl turned and looked at him with an incredulous look, clearly astonished that a total stranger would shell out $8.00 for the snacks and wide-eyed said, “Really? Wow, thank you!” After she walked away I commented to him what a very nice gesture that was, to which he remarked, ”I like helping kids out.” I replied, “It all comes back around one day.” He shook his head and then said, “Yeah, I was poor once too…” When I made my way back to Jenny I told her the story, to which she was in awe I then pointed him out, because as it turned out he was on our flight.

Our numbers for lining up on Southwest were B35 and 36-not great and usually numbers that mean seats together will be found in the very back of the plane. As we boarded and started our way down the aisle, I saw a window and middle seat open at row 15, “Sorry, I’m with my family,” the woman stated. “Uh, yeah, me too,” I thought and refrained from shouting, “That’s not the way it works!” Row 19 the same set up, this time an elderly gentleman says, “This seat is taken for my wife,” pointing towards the door and some not even present on the airplane yet person. Moving along and growing quite irritated to Row 24, a middle and aisle, “My daughter is coming-she’s in the back of the line.” Right, so unfortunately that means she’s behind us and Southwest is an open seating policy…We move on. Row 26, a few from the back, there is the gentleman from earlier, seated on the aisle with the two adjacent seats open. I call to him, acknowledging him aloud to Jenny as, “That nice man that bought the M&Ms for the girl,” and almost imploring I ask, “Are those seats open?” “Of course,” he replies. “That’s twice in one day,” I tell him. “We just got turned down for seats from three other people. It’s gonna come back to you big time!” He was born and raised in Austin, heading home to his family and so I ask him his favorite dining place, “The Odd Duck,” he says, “The menu is a bit out there, but it all works.”

So that is how we end up dining at the Odd Duck and the food? It was delicious our favorites were the jerk quail, redfish ceviche, and the wagyu beef with mushroom croquettes, and the frozen lime margaritas made with mezcal and chiles! So the kind man, I never did get his name, did right by us-twice!

Our first day in Austin was a great success. We only stayed in the downtown area but enjoyed ourselves, as always. We contemplated renting a car tomorrow to go to the hill country but we haven’t even set foot in the ultra hip SoCo neighborhood of Austin, so that’s the plan tomorrow.

March 30, 2018

Today was a very late start-we didn’t make it out the door until 10:30, even though we were all asleep by 9:00 last night. Jenny chose the breakfast spot this morning-Blenders and Bowls, the top spot in Austin to get an Açaí bowl. The bowls were delicious, topped with fresh berries, honey and hemp granola and almost as good as the ones we had for breakfast every morning when we were in LA!

Since the restaurant was on same side of the river that we were on yesterday, and not the side we were exploring today, we decided to take an uber down to the far end of Congress Street and walk back, shopping and eating to our hotel.

Congress Street was hopping by the time we started around 11:30, with people already queued up twenty deep at some of the restaurants. Congress street has a good mix of shops on it, all independent boutiques, many carrying some locally crafted items, and Jenny thought it reminded her of Melrose Ave in Los Angeles but it is nowhere as gritty. I was actually surprised how clean Austin is and how very few homeless people we have seen. Actually, everything about Austin has been surprisingly pleasant. We were all surprised at how green and lush it is. From our ninth floor windows looking out over the verdant rolling hills one could mistake it for New England somewhere. So completely different than the parched landscape of the panhandle, and the area around Dallas.

Upon exiting one of the stores we heard what sounded like a marching band and turned to see two giant bunnies marching down the sidewalk with the band following and a plethora of dogs, many decked out in costumes with coordinated owners. There was a chow dressed as Paddington bear, a bulldog as Slash from Guns N’ Roses, a golden retriever as a lion, a Fench bulldog as Superman and the best of all was the cart with a pair of chihuahuas dressed as WWF wrestlers and their matching owner, oh and miniature horses in costume as well-too funny!

We had planned on having lunch at one of the many food trucks but none of the ones we saw jumped out at us. Then we saw Guero’s Tacos which had been recommended to us but the wait was upwards of half an hour so we settled for lunch at the Standard Cafe (turned out to be more a brunch menu) but was very good nonetheless.

Jenny had read about a donut place that she thought we should go try after lunch so we headed that way. We really enjoyed the walk through this neighborhood west of Congress. The homes were a mixture of arts and crafts bungalows, Victorian, modern, and a few homes that looked like perhaps the same people were still living in them that lived there 50 years ago-a true gem of an area!

The donut place was an old airstream that has been parked in a lot, next to a taco trailer (why didn’t we know about this before?), set up with picnic tables and umbrellas, with lights hanging above-so cute and so Austin. The donut menu was extensive, about 20 to chose from, and all were made to order. So I don’t think I can accurately explain how absolutely sinfully decadent these donuts were, unlike any we have ever had, and they easily knocked Voodoo out of contention for top three and may almost be the best ever-they were that off the charts! I am not even too sure of the ones we ordered but man oh man…heaven on earth!

Of course, we were now stuffed (I was feeling very grateful that I had had a cabbage salad for lunch), but we managed to continue our now slow, waddle back to the hotel.

We stopped at Allen’s boots, one of the most famous booteries in Austin. I just love the smell of leather and wow, was the inventory impressive, as Jenny said, “It certainly blows Allred’s away.”

A few more stops and before we knew it we were back at the hotel. Everyone was ready to take some time off our feet, in some AC, and I had been wrangling with a pounding headache following breakfast, that nothing I took seemed to ease the pain of.

We had been in Texas and had yet to eat Tex-Mex or BBQ, so after some discussion we decided it had to be BBQ for dinner. Franklins has been suggested but they don’t do dinner, so we relied on Trip Advisor to help us out. Black’s BBQ was about half mile away, good solid reviews but didn’t take reservations so figuring we could beat the crowds we headed out but with an initial stop at the Yeti Bar.

Our plan was a good one, but we weren’t the only ones thinking that. When we arrived there was already a queue but since we were there we sent Jenny to grab us a table and we grabbed two beers and waited in line. The restaurant serves cafeteria style, and while the process is a bit slow, it works.

While waiting in line, a younger guy asked Billy if he fishes (I guess the Patagonia fish baseball cap and fly fishing shirt was a bit obvious). One thing led to another and Billy finds out the guy is from Baltimore and of course the inevitable question of where he went to school came up, with the obvious answer of…Gilman. So of course the next logical question to follow was,”Who was your fourth grade teacher?” And while this guy had only attended Gilman for high school, when Billy told him he was Bill Merrick’s son, his response was, “Mr. Merrick is a legend.” I swear we can’t go anywhere without running into someone from Gilman. So much so that when we got to the table finally I said to Jenny, “Guess what just happened?” and her response,”You met someone from Gilman!”

We enjoyed the walk back along the river stopping to pay homage, this time, to Stevie Ray Vaughn. There was a music festival going on riverside so we danced down the trail on our way to our final stop-the Congress Street Bridge.

The Congress Street Bridge is home to one of the world’s great natural spectacles occurring every dusk from March thru October-1.5 million Mexican free-tailed bats leaving their roost for the evening. We, and a thousand or so other people, watched in awe as these little guys took flight for the night. After about fifteen minutes we called it quits, even though they were still emerging. It is really quite a sight, akin to the swallows returning to their roost on Great Island in the CT River. There is nothing like nature to put on an incredible show!

St. Augustine and Savannah

March 6, 2018

“Unexpected Happenings Bring Unexpected Surprises”

It is always a lesson in flexibility and a challenge to one’s sanity when trying to travel out of New England during the winter, within the constraints of school holidays. Of course, this winter has proven no different. Jenny and I were scheduled to leave for Jacksonville (our gateway to Savannah) on Wednesday afternoon after the school day was over. She was to miss a half day of school on Thursday and that was it. Well, Monday morning we woke up to the news freaking out about the newest nor’easter that would be arriving, dumping up to a foot of snow with the heaviest arriving at, you guessed it, our scheduled departure time. With the apartment already paid for, Mimi scheduled to join us, no other weekends in the foreseeable future to reschedule to, and Southwest basically saying we should reschedule, we did. Unfortunately, the afternoon flight on Tuesday was not available and so it left us with little option than to either cancel on Mimi with no idea when we would see her again and forfeit all our prepaid expenses (I always buy travel insurance for our international trips but hadn’t even thought to do so for this one) or to gamble that the weatherman was actually correct and Jenny would have no school on Wednesday or Thursday due to the snow, leaving her with only one day missed. I took the gamble as even if Essex didn’t get the snow hyped, Hartford was pretty much certain too which would leave us without our flight to Savannah. So far, gamble paid off…snow day Wednesday

I had little time to try and rebook flights, cancel and rebook car reservations, airport hotels, try to add a night to our airbnb and figure out an itinerary for our new found extra day and a half. Once I completed rebooking most of the aforementioned, we set off for Florida, leaving our house at 5:50 in the morning. We landed in Jacksonville at 1:20 and headed for the rental car counter. After having been forced to choose a minivan in my last minute rebooking, we were happy to talk the counter agent into letting us choose a different model for our trip; a sleek Nissan Sentra (or something similar-I don’t really know). We exited the airport and made a beeline for I-95 South (yes south, the opposite direction of Savannah) towards Ormond Beach, our first stop for the day.

Why Ormond Beach you ask, when our trip was to see the sights of Savannah? Well, last month I unexpectedly received an email from a gentleman who is a journalist at the Daytona Beach News-Journal. He found me through my ancestry.com family tree, after looking up my second great grandfather, Florian Alexander Mann,. Florian was the founder of the Halifax Journal, the newspaper that was the precursor to the present day Daytona Beach N-J. The journalist, aka Mark was wondering if he could use the pictures of Florian I had posted and asked if I would consider contacting him. After lengthy discussions with him and subsequently the Halifax Historical Society, scanning and then sending additional photos I had of Ormond Beach taken in the late 1800s, the area had been on my mind.

Ormond is just north of Daytona, sitting along the intercostal waterway, a part of the Halifax River at that point; 75 miles to the south of Jacksonville. Our initial stop was Pinecrest Cemetery, just north of Daytona. The recent discussions and reviewing of my ancestry table had reminded me that I had relatives buried there. We pulled into town and thought perhaps it was a bit of a rough neighborhood as we passed lots of bikers and loads of bars. It wasn’t until we turned down Main Street that we figured out that there was a Harley Davidson rally taking place. Luck was on our side today (both the good and the bad); the good-there was a parking spot right in front of the cemetery entrance, the only parking spot we saw; the bad luck-it was a spot about two feet longer than the length of our car, with a stack of barricades to the front of it and a row of about 20 highly-coveted Harelys lined up behind it AND the owners of all those Harleys were seated directly across the street on the outside patios, drinking beer and looking directly at me. No pressure! Confident in my abilities of parallel parking (I grew up in LA after all),  I put the car in reverse as Jenny hashed out the escape plan should all this motorcycles fall like dominoes. It was a good one but something tells me, we would not have made it very far! Mission accomplished; I turned to the bars and saw that literally everyone had stopped and watched me park. I opened the door, stood up and gave big thumbs up and a smile to match to everybody watching, only to receive slight nods in return-come on guys how about a little something for the effort or at least the balls it took trying!

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The row of Harley’s behind me!

Pinecrest Cemetery is the oldest burial ground in Ormond. I am sure It was lovely at one time with its enormous live oaks and palms, but everything was a little dried up and there was quite a bit of rubbish lying around (it turned out that this was a bit of a derelict area).

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Once in the cemetery, I realized there was no information office to help in locating the gravesites we were looking for. The good news was the cemetery wasn’t really that big so we systematically made our way around until Eureka! (of course it was almost towards the very end). There were the graves of my 2nd and 3rd great grandmothers, two  2nd great aunts along with their husbands and children. Just this summer, I found a photo of my 3rd great grandmother and now I was standing at her final resting place, though it really isn’t very restful along the edge of the fence with all the cars zooming past.

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Thirty five minutes later, we hopped into the car-I waved goodbye to my new found friends, they simply nodded in return, I wished I had had the gumption to peel out just to have a good laugh, but alas, I was not that brave!

Our next stop was a drive through Tomoka State Park, along the Halifax River. Back at the airport in Hartford, I emailed Mark and asked him if he could tell me where he thought some of those 1880s photos were taken. He suggested that they looked as though they were near to present day Tomoka State Park along the Halifax River.

Along the drive, Jenny and I marveled at the changing landscape and just how beautiful and almost mysterious like it was. We marveled how driving down I95, which was only about 2 miles to the west, one would never know that this sort of landscape was actually in Florida. It was truly beautiful with all of the palmettos, palms, and live oaks with their draping Spanish Moss forming thick walls on either side of the road and a heavy canopy overhead.

The word Tomoka had been resonating in my mind since I read Mark’s email; for some reason I knew that word had some association with one of my second great aunts (Florian’s daughters). When we pulled up to the gate at Tomoka State Park, the ranger told us where to go and said at the end of the road there was a statue of Chief Tomokie where we could park and walk. We were running short on time (daylight hours really), so I told Jenny we would just drive through the park, but as we were driving the word statue kept coming into play with the the word Tomoka in my head. The drive through the park, along the white sandy roads and the same mysterious flora was beautiful, Jenny kept hoping we would see an armadillo, while I was hoping for a bear. We arrived at the ridiculously large statue and I noticed there was a plaque so I told Jenny to hang on while I went and read it because I was sure that was the connection I was trying to establish. Alas, no mention on it of any family members, just the name of the artist and the donors. Still, I was certain that there was something there.

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Statue-for perspective the fence around the base is about four feet tall.

Jenny and I decided to take the scenic drive back up to St. Augustine, where I had decided we would stay for the night and so we followed the route suggested by Mark. It was extraordinary lovely, winding through marshes and along river ways, following the Ormond Scenic Bird Watching Route (shout out to you Dickie-you should do it sometime). watching people fish and kayak and just enjoying the beautiful day.  The road eventually ended up following the coastal route along the rugged Atlantic coast right up through various small beach oriented towns eventually ending up in the heart of St Augustine’s historical district. It was at this point that I decided that maybe we should figure out where we would be sleeping for the night (up to this point I had not had an opportunity to secure a room for us for this evening). I asked Jenny to check Trip Advisor and when a room showed up at the Marriott, I gave them a call and was able to book us in at a somewhat discounted, last-minute rate-phew! Sleeping in a minivan would have been one thing, but the Nissan Sentra…I don’t think so!

Upon entering St Augustine we were taken by the sudden transition of funky beachy encapments to a compact urban area, dominated by Spanish style architecture. Heading down the main road into town, standing before us was a beautiful sprawling edifice built in what one, today, would consider the old Hollywood style (but really I think Hollywood copied it from this). It was built in a manner that pointed to you, beckoning you to investigate its origins and purpose. Even in the fading light, we could make out the burnt orange stucco exterior, Spanish tile roof, towering spires, formal gardens, and looming bell towers. Jenny immediately recognized it as Flagler College and after quickly agreeing with her we both stated aloud how absolutely remarkable it was!

I couldn’t get the car parked and us checked in quick enough to start exploring this intriguing area. Both were quick and easy and upon checkin were offered a free appetizer in the bar. Gladly aking them up on their offer, Jenny was tickled to death to see they had beef carpaccio as an option and I was tickled to death to see that they offered a Provencal rosè!

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Dinner, we decide would be less formal and so I left it up to Jenny to find us a place. After a quick scouring of Yelp, she suggested a place called Prohibition Kitchen that was currently receiving rave reviews. We headed out from the hotel into the now darkened streets and commented on how quaint the area seemed. We reached the intersection of St George Street, and were just about to turn when a sign and then its accompanying building caught my eye; Trinity Episcopal Church. I stood staring at it for a minute, wracking my brain trying to place it, when I finally recalled that my great uncle had been married in this church and I had recently (in searching through photos for Mark) had come across a picture he had sent to his parents with the wedding inscription on the back.

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After snapping a few photos, Jenny and I continued on to the restaurant where we proceeded to have a delicious dinner, in a warehouse style space whose character was oozing from its floorboards, accompanied by a wonderful folksy trio playing on stage and fantastic food…que bueno! (remember St Augustine was founded by the Spaniards after all!). While we lingered over a decadent cookies in cream milkshake for dessert, Jenny suggested that we should take a tour of the college campus tomorrow-a prospective student one versus one designed for those merely interested in its history and architecture. A great idea I thought, especially to use for comparison sake to the four other colleges we have already toured.

Upon returning to the hotel, I still could not shake the feeling I had concerning one of my second great aunts and Tomoka. I pulled out my computer and starting Googling the names of my aunts and Tomoka until BINGO, I got the hit I was looking for. One of my 2nd great aunts had written a book entitled, “Florida Under Four Flags,” apparently it was part of the inspiration for  the artist’s massive sculpural undertaking. Thank God for Google, otherwise I would have hardly slept a wink!

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For a totally unplanned and unexpected day, Jenny and I had a lot of fun. Billy had decided earlier on that he was not going to join us on this trip and with all the changes and hassles, it probably worked out for the best that he didn’t, though we once again missed him on one of our adventures. As of this writing, he is home with our four-legged girls riding out the nor’easter, and once again (only four days later) without power!

March 7, 2018

“Ticks Can Actually Be a Good Thing”

With a 9:15 college tour start time, Jenny and I were up and out the door by 8:00, headed to a breakfast place Jenny had found on line. Breakfast is Jenny’s favorite meal to eat out, so she always likes finding restaurants that are highly rated. Maple Street Biscuit Company was just a few doors down from our starting location and directly across the street from Flagler. As one could imagine from the name, the menu is heavily centered on biscuits, in fact all of their menu items come on top of their homemade flaky disks. Jenny ordered one with pecan smoked bacon, cheese and egg with a side of sausage gravy and I had one with a fried goat cheese medallion, and chicken smothered in a house made pepper jelly-both knock your socks off delicious! One thing we loved about the restaurant was the way they let you know your order was up. Each day, they have a new question they ask and your answer is what they holler out to let you know your order is ready. Today’s question was, “What one thing would you take with you if you were stranded on a desert island?” Not realizing I was answering for both of us, I responded quickly with, “A bottle of wine.” Needless to say Jenny was not amused, but the others diners certainly were when the kitchen called out, “Order up for a bottle of wine!” Hey, I certainly thought it was better than the other answers we heard called out-“Biscuits” (OK kiss asses) and “Computer” (really?).

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Last night when we pulled in and Jenny immediately recognized the building as Flagler College I wasn’t surprised by that (though Billy said he had never even heard of it before). Flagler is consistently rated as one of the top three most beautiful college campuses in the world by various publications. High on Jenny’s priority list for where she will attend college is that it must be aesthetically pleasing, so she had seen it many times before during her searches for the most beautiful college campuses. However, she had never considered it because it was below the Mason-Dixon Line (and that is really more the defining line of the extreme heat she wants to avoid, more than anything else).

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We met with the admissions counselor who went over the basics with Jenny, via a slide show presentation; and so the boxes began being ticked: average incoming freshman GPA and SAT scores-tick, 20% of the student body volunteers in the community (many with local animal shelters)-tick, international studies majors are required to do a study abroad program-tick, gap years are recognized-tick, time should be enjoyed going to the beach and surfing, versus trying to overload yourself with academics-tick! After about a half hour with the admissions counselor, we met up with our student tour ambassador, Dominique (ironic right), to start the tour of the campus.

Flagler College began its life as the Ponce de Leon Hotel, really a resort, built in the Spanish Renaissance style in 1885 by Henry Flagler, a railroad magnate. Since it began its life as a resort, it was built to the finest standards and luxuries so one can imagine how lovely it must be on the inside, however we were not prepared.

As we walked from the meeting place to the back side of the main campus building, we came into the area where the students hang out the most. A beautiful outside area with seating and courtyards, grassy areas and a beautiful gazebo with tall palm trees and flower gardens-tick. Dominique was telling us that this is where they do the de-stressing days before exam week-they set up bounce houses, bring in therapy dogs, have yoga activities, etc-tick! We looked in on the art studios, science labs, mailroom, medical clinic, etc. Dominique told us how the professors are awesome, that they all want you to succeed, their doors are mandated to be open for at least two hours every day for students to call on them, many usually give out their numbers so you can contact them if you are having a hard time with material and most give you bonuses on assignments for going to the Student Resource Center to have your work checked and get some extra help before turning in your assignments-tick, tick, tick!

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We then headed into the building that houses the freshman girls dorms and the dining hall-as I said, we were not prepared. The doors open up onto a four story rotunda, marble floors, and mural painted ceilings by known artists. There was a grand central staircase that lead to a landing with another set of staircases going off to either side leading up to the dorms. Straight ahead was the dining hall a room straight out of a Harry Potter set with its Tiffany windows, soaring ceiling and selection of foods that seems to satisfy every craving. Oh and you can dine there without any limits-tick, tick and tick again! It was truly spectacular!

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The last area we saw was where they have beach volleyball, the swimming pool (strictly for recreational use), gym and the student center with its Chick-fil-a and Starbucks-tick, tick tick! Oh and Dominique thinks they have a sailing club but if not, no problem, you only need six people to start a club-tick!

It was a highly unexpected and very successful tour. I think it could be a top contender…Mason-Dixon Line be damned!

After our tour, we walked around the town some more to get a better feeling for it. The one concern Jenny has, is that it is very touristy, but it is charming and there are fabulous restaurants, great music venues, and cute shops. For being the oldest town in America, it has held up just fine. We stopped in the college store to get a sweatshirt-I told Jenny she has to get a piece of clothing from each college we visit that she thinks may have potential, and after hearing back from the colleges and she makes her decision, she has to let us know by coming downstairs wearing the clothing from the college she chooses. The girl working there was so nice, a student at Flagler, and added great tidbits of information to what we had already learned. If everyone is as nice as the people we have met today, it is one more box-tick!

Lunch was at a restaurant suggested by the counselor and he did all right by us. The food was awesome. Jenny said it was the best salad she has ever eaten, a cornbread panzanella, while my jar of pickled Florida shrimp was equally as tasty! Over lunch Jenny mentioned how odd it was that had we not changed our plans for the snowstorm, we would not have come to St. Augustine and she would never have toured Flagler because it was off her radar. Things happen for a reason, I told her.

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Before leaving town, I wanted to stop by the Cathedral to light a candle for my father and stop by the little Episcopal church we saw last night because in thinking about it last evening, I came to remember that not only was my 2nd great Uncle married there, but my great grandparents were too in 1900!

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(Top two photos are the cathedral, the bottom is the inside of the little church)

Our drive up to Savannah was pretty uneventful. I had originally planned on driving to Jekyll Island and Sea Island to show Jenny where we had spent some time with Billy’s grandmother Bru, for two lovely March vacations but we didn’t have time.

We pulled into Savannah, unloaded, and moved in to the airbnb that would be our home for the next four nights. I had had a few concerns about it just from the photos that were on line but more from the lack of reviews it had, but it turned out to be fantastic. It is located in the old YWCA building, with the original basketball court floors. It is an awesome two bedroom two bathroom apartment, charmingly decorated with old lockers as a nod to its previous life, and a completely modern kitchen. A true find and a steal for what we would have paid for a hotel room. We really love it!

As Mimi had gotten up very early to catch her flight here and Jenny and I had had a full day, we opted for something quick and totally casual for dinner-The Flying Monk Noodle Bar. Dinner was a score as all of our meals were excellent-pho and a fresh coconut to drink for Jenny, Vietnamese spicy lemongrass beef over noodles for me, and a duck noodle soup for Mimi.

Of course no evening dining out would be complete without having dessert. Jenny found the place, FreezN, an ice cream parlor that starts with fresh cream, you choose the additions and then it is frozen on the spot with liquid nitrogen. The ice cream man removed his twenty or so rings before beginning the process, “just in case” he said!

It’s so fun to be having a girl’s getaway weekend with Mimi. We are looking forward to tomorrow, to walk, explore and enjoy the city, and spending time in each other’s company.

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And just an update for those who have been asking. The linemen came and cleared the trees on other side of our driveway, opening the road and assuring that the lines were now dead. Billy can now get out of the house. They did not do anything to restore the power as of yet. Some power has begun to be restored in our town and the neighboring towns but they are saying to expect it to be at least a few more days!

And I guess you can assume, the flight Jenny and I were originally scheduled to take on Wednesday afternoon was cancelled. There was no school Wednesday or Thursday, so it looks like my gamble paid off; now let’s just hope that she is not going to be in school until the end of June!

March 8, 2018

“Ticks Can Be Good, Chiggers Are Not”

We started off late this morning because I thought it best to let Jenny catch up on some sleep and figured Michelle would wake up when it felt right for her, that meant we weren’t out the door until almost 10:00. Walking outside was a bit of a surprise as it was cold and very blustery (I find it hard to complain too much considering what the weather is like back home and knowing my poor husband is sitting in a house with no heat-and I hope to God not burst pipes too).

I was thankful that I had the right clothes for it as we walked along and watched the tour group kids shivering in their shorts. Last night Jenny had seen a donut shop across the street from where we had dinner, so we headed there in hopes of finding feathery pillows of deliciousness. Instead, the donuts were just ok, not bad but nothing I would rush back for and blow my caloric limit on.

We decided since it was so windy that we would walk in the opposite direction of the river, towards Forsyth Park to see the squares and admire the historic homes, that Savannah is famous for. Savannah has 22 squares, each one named for a historical person or event and many containing monuments or plaques to such. The first four squares were created in 1733 by John Oglethorpe, the same year he founded Savannah and the Georgia colony. The squares are all lovely with their monolithic live oaks, whose branches reach out to the farthest corners of the square, all dripping with greenish grey Spanish moss, rhododendrons bursting in pinks, whites, fuchsias and reds, white dogwoods in full bloom, and American pink buds with their oh so dainty flowers. Add in the dappled sunlight and it all makes for a surreal scene that exudes elegance.

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I had wanted to do a house tour and the first one we came upon was the Green-Meldrim House. It was absolutely lovely on the outside, with its formal English style gardens, large front covered piazza, and wrought iron work. It is considered one of the finest examples of Gothic Revival architecture in the South. It was constructed in the 1850s for Charles Green, a cotton merchant and ship builder. Upon entering, it was really what you would have expected to see in a house of that time-simply lovely. One of the most interesting features of the house we thought was its entry way and its three sets of doors. The outside front doors opened inward and folded into a recession to create two closets. one on either side. There were then two pairs of pocket doors, one set glass the other louvres that could be pulled out depending on the time of year-really very ingenious!

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The tour guide for downstairs was a rather snippy older woman with a wandering left eye, who threatened to flush Jenny’s phone down the “commode” if it made a noise (Jenny was merely holding it in her hand because she had no purse or pockets) and when I asked about whether the furnishing were original, I was told to not jump ahead of the tour, alrighty then, is this the Southern charm I keep hearing so much about?!? The tour guide for upstairs was a cute older woman who was very much interested in the furniture of the home. The one really cool thing we did get to see and look at (it was only us on the tour) was a stereoptican It came with the viewing glasses and various cards that would make the pictures jump out in 3D (basically the original View Master toy). It was quite fun to see that as the view master was one of my favorite toys when I was a child.

The tour was really just ok, run by parishioners of the church next door that now owns the home and uses it for various functions, including weddings and funeral receptions. It missed the majority of the history of the people who lived there, both the owners and the servants. The one interesting fact that was relayed was that during the Civil War, Mr. Green, afraid of having his house burned to the ground during Sherman’s March to the Sea, invited him to come and use the house as his headquarters. It was in this house that Sherman wrote and sent a telegram to Lincoln offering him all of the guns, ammunition and cotton in Savannah, as well as the city itself, as a Christmas gift.

After the tour we decided to grab some lunch and went for a place I had read about on various forums and blogs, that everyone seemed to love. It was not really the sort of place we usually enjoy (Jenny laughed because she said Robert Irvine from “Restaurant Impossible” would have been all over them for having carpeting on their floors-I agree-yuck!) and the food was only mediocre at best, even my fried green tomatoes were really ho-hum. We decided that Jenny does a much better job at finding restaurants than I do so I have put her in charge of our meals!

Following lunch, we walked down to the famed Forsyth Park, a sprawling park at the bottom of the historic district. Similar to many of the squares, but with an enormous fountain as you enter, it was a nice break where we relaxed and enjoyed the sunshine.

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At one point, I pulled some Spanish moss from one of the trees and clowning around I draped it like hair over my head. I then placed it on Jenny’s head and was busy snapping photos when something in the back of my head dawned on me that we shouldn’t be doing that. Was the stuff poisonous? No that’s mistletoe. But what? At that moment a college age kid was walking by looking at us. I stopped him and asked, “We shouldn’t be doing that should we?” He looked at me, took his ear buds out and said, “I’m sorry what?” I repeated my question to which he answered, “Oh yeah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, there’s chiggers in the moss.” Jenny swung her head around and looked at me and adamantly asked me, “What are chiggers?” I sheepishly replied, “They are little bugs.” and the kid, he replied, “Yep, and they itch like hell!” I probably do not need to describe what followed, but we had a good laugh, in between itching our heads (oh the power of suggestion)!

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We wound our back toward the river, zig zagging up and down quiet residential streets whose homes were lined up in perfect symmetry, each mirroring its neighbor in design and architecture, their American flags proudly displayed in unison. Overhead the canopy of live oaks was so thick that so little sun shown on the streets that the flickering lights of that replica gas light sconces on either side of the front doors, were visible as though it were evening.

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We eventually came upon Lafayette Square and the adjacent Cathedral of St John the Baptist, done in French Gothic style with twin soaring spires that Jenny said were almost cartoonish in appearance. The cathedral was rebuilt in 1900, after a fire swept through the original 1870 church. Upon entering the first thing you come upon is the 8,000 pound, octagonal baptismal font, with small fountains flowing from each angle and a green and gold Celtic knot tiled on the floor of it, a nod to Savannah’s large Irish population. The cathedral wss very impressive and after lighting a candle for my dad, we headed out.

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We returned to the apartment for showers and an hours rest before we were going to head out for dinner. I had reservations at one of Savannah’s best restaurants, the Olde Pink House, but I think we were all a bit tired and no one felt like having a more formal meal. We decided that dinner last night was so delicious, that we would go back for another round of noodles.

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Dinner was delicious again and of course Jenny had another place in mind for dessert, another ice cream place but this time they pour the cream onto a frozen slab, cut in the additional ingredients and then use what looks like a wide putty knife to scrape it off of the slabs into cigar rolls of ice cream-unique and delicious! We enjoyed our walk back to the apartment, happily munching on our ice cream amidst the lights of the truly beautiful city of Savannah.

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March 9, 2018

“Our Kind of Day”

This morning we decided that we needed a breakfast with a little more sustenance in it then a donut. We have walked past a restaurant two blocks from our apartment a few times that looked charming so we decided to go there. The menu at Collin’s Corner was exactly what we were looking for, with varied dishes and a long list of morning beverages. The place was packed and clearly a favorite of locals and tourists alike. Michelle ordered avocado toast and a vanilla latte, Jenny and I decided to split avocado toast and eggs benedict, her having a turmeric and ginger latte and me a matcha latte. All were fabulous-I actually completely cleaned my plate!

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In reading up about things to do and see in Savannah, I came across the historic Harper-Fowlkes House which is now the headquarters of the Society of the Cincinnati in the state of Georgia, an organization that Billy is a member of. Mimi and Jenny were game to join me on another tour and since it was only a few blocks from the apartment, we headed over there. First impressions were how strikingly large, the Greek Revival style home was, with immense double-story columns and a curved staircase to the front door. Upon entering, we were escorted to the backyard to wait for the next tour begin. It was a lovely bricked yard with a fountain that had the Society’s eagle as it’s centerpiece. We had a nice chat with another couple from Connecticut and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on another chilly morning.

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Our tour guide met us a short time later and began explaining how after the depression so many of Savannah’s old homes were neglected and then torn down, and how afterwards the beginnings of “progress” happened and such things as putting parking structures up over the squares began to take place until a few women banded together to put it a stop to it-thank goodness.

Inside the house, the main entry hall has one of the highlights and most unique features of the home, an elliptical opening that runs up three floors where a cupola was eventually added that brings light down through it. Our tour guide was an older gentleman who has an interest in history and did a wonderful job bringing the families that lived there to life. The story of the families, but most importantly the lady who would eventually donate the home to the Society, were fascinating. Alida Harper-Fowlkes was an early pioneer in the preservation of some of Savannah’s most important homes. She was a visionary before anyone else; saving ten homes from the “progress” that was happening at the time. She never had any children and upon her death left her home and everything in it to the Society with the stipulation that it may never be sold. We all thoroughly enjoyed the tour and felt like he we learned some additional things about Savannah.

After leaving the Harper-Folkes House we headed towards the Savannah River and the area we hadn’t covered yet. Walking along the streets we enjoyed all of the new squares we passed, the boutiques, restaurants and colorful characters along the way. We stopped at the famous Byrd cookie company, having been doing business in Savannah since 1924, but we weren’t overly taken by the half dollar size too-crunchy cookies.

As we neared the river, we could see that Savannah actually lies above the river on a bluff, sort of like the city of Santa Monica. The riverfront below is still with cobblestone streets and trolley tracks and the huge warehouses that have been converted into shops and restaurants. The steps down were marked as historic, and we were advised to use them at our own risk (they were incredibly steep). Jenny and I remarked on how different the Savannah River looked than the Mississippi as far as color, it wasn’t the same chocolate milk color however the amount of industry on it was impressive. We are so lucky and thankful that the Connecticut River, as large as it is, has no industrialization on it.

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The walk along the riverfront promenade was enjoyable, especially as the sun was out warming us and offsetting the chilly wind that was blowing. We laughed as we came upon a fountain whose waters had been dyed green in honor of the upcoming St. Patrick’s day celebration. Have I mentioned that Savannah has a huge Irish population? It finally made sense all the Irish flags that we have seen!

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Climbing back up the steps, and turning back towards the apartment, we came upon the Old Pink House restaurant, the restaurant we had cancelled dinner at last night. This morning during our tour, we learned that the Old Pink House, was not only one of the buildings but also one of the businesses, Alida Harper-Fowles had actually saved and operated. Curiosity got the better of us so we decided to go in and see if we could sit and get a cup of coffee. We were shown to the tavern where we enjoyed a rest and a refreshment before continuing on our way. Both he building and restaurant, by the way, were elegant.

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Yesterday, we missed a few stores that I had meant to stop at when we were in the south end of the historic district, places I knew Jenny would want to see, so we decided we would go back there. It took a little extra effort since we had already covered this ground previously, but we were enjoying each other’s company, the sunshine, and the beautiful scenery along the way. As we were walking along, Jenny all of a sudden stops and in a voice of pure surprise says, “Oh my goodness.“ When I ask her what it is she is talking about she says, “Look down.” There at her feet, inscribed in the concrete was the word CHEECH, my nickname for her…

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Our first missed stop was the SCAD store (SCAD stands for Savannah College of Art and Design). This is a shop that sells pieces from all fields of art of current students and alumni. There were some very unique pieces and both Michelle and I bought a little something, but the store I knew for sure that Jenny would love was V and J antiques, a store dedicated to antique prints and maps. Located in the basement of one of the beautiful brick homes, it was a small store but oh wow, was it packed! The maps were divided up into cities, states, regions, countries, etc, thankfully, so it was easier searching for specific ones that Jenny was after. She and I had a ball and Mimi seemed to enjoy it as well, helping us in our search for specific places. Really we could have spent hours in there-it was that awesome, but we spent maybe an hour and left with a small collection.

Happy with our newly acquired bounty, we turned around and headed back to the apartment to clean up before dinner. Our breakfasts were so good this morning that we decided on having dinner there tonight. Our meals were a solid good, Mimi and I both having duck and Jenny having roast chicken-clearly their strong point is breakfast/brunch but nonetheless we once again, enjoyed our evening together laughing and taking about all the places in the world, and in our own country, we still want to go. It is so nice that Mimi fits in so well with Jenny and I. It is always easy with her, never contrived.

A day filled with delicious food, beautiful scenery, interesting history, good friends, perfect weather, belly aching laughs, and a treasure trove of maps-WOW! What more could you ask for. Today was our kind of day!

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March 10, 2018

“Two Wise Men”

Perhaps we were lacking originality or perhaps we felt our breakfast yesterday was so darn delicious, but we ended up at the same place again for breakfast but this time there was a short wait when we arrived, so we gave the hostess my cell number and walked over to Wright Square to await a text from the restaurant.

As we entered the square, I heard a man singing, in a deep deep bass voice, singing something that sounded like a church hymn. While Jenny and Mimi went and sat on a bench, I walked over to hear where the voice was coming from and there sitting on a bench, under one of the sprawling oak trees was a rather heavy set African-American man, missing a few of his teeth, burning incenses, weaving blades of sweetgrass into roses and singing his heart our for all to enjoy. He asked me where I came from, wanted to know why I had come to Savannah, how long I was staying and then he introduced himself. He told me his name was James, and he showed me the lanyard around his neck that was a license from the city to be a vendor, though it had expired at the end of last year. I read his name and announced back to him, “James Pringle, nice to meet you.” He responded by saying I said his name just like his teacher used to call it. He demonstrated to me how he weaved the roses, proud as a peacock that he could do it without even looking. He told me how he had learned from his mother and his grandmother, he was raised by them, because his father had left him when he was a boy and how he had cried so many times when he saw other boys in the neighborhood with their fathers, but he made it because he had two strong ladies. That his grandmother had always told him that if you do the right thing, good things will come to you. He also told me that he would like me to have the rose, no charge, but a small donation would be appreciated if I’d like, because that’s the way he easts and sleeps. He told me, “You see you can do anything you want to if you put your mind to it, you don’t need to get a gun and rob nobody. God gave us a mind.” I looked in his basket and saw only change plus one, one dollar bill. I took out a $5 and gave it to him. The text came through that our table was ready and so I told him I had to go and I went and got Jenny and Mimi but just as we were getting ready to cross the street, I quickly turned back around and ran back up to Mr. Pringle to say, “Thank you.”

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Mr. Pringle reminded me of Ms. Betty Manigault, the lady we encountered weaving baskets on the street in Charleston. Both wise in ways that those born into privilege seldom can be, both having obviously lived lives that have been filled with hardship and pain, but both having the cheeriest attitudes and warmest demeanors I have yet to encounter in a stranger. It is meeting these people and the happenstance exchanges with them, that are truly the gifts of travel.

We had decided that today we were going to go outside of the city to get a better feel for the sea islands and the area and history encompassing them. Our first stop was Wormsloe State Historic Site, about 10 miles outside Savannah. Wormsloe was an estate built by Noble Jones, a man of varying occupations who arrived with James Oglethorpe in 1733. Today, the tabby walls (a type of concrete made with oyster shells), are all that is left of his original estate, and are the oldest standing structures in the Savannah area. The entry into the estate grounds is a site to behold, with over 400 live oaks lining the drive on either side. As Mimi said, the branches, outstretched from one side to the other look as though they are reaching to hold hands and in doing so, form a perfectly domed ceiling over the drive.

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From there our next stop was going to be a cultural one of a different kind, Pin Point Heritage Museum. I had read numerous reviews on different sites about this place and had decided early on that we should see it. Pin Point is located on a marsh along the Moon River. It was founded in the 1890s by former slaves who had mostly come from Georgia’s Sea Islands. Since the area along the marshes were considered less desirable for development, freedmen were able to purchase property here at a fairly reasonable price. Today Pin Point is part of the congressionally designated Gullah/Geechee Cultural Heritage Corridor, meant to help recognize and preserve the cultures and traditions of the Gullah/Geechee people, descendants of African slaves brought to the coast of Florida, Georgia and the Carolinas.

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Pin Point had remained an outpost African American community, with one road in and one road out until 1926 when A.S. Varn built a crab and oyster processing plant there. Almost everyone in the community worked at the factory, in some form or another. Men harvested (oysters in the winter, blue crabs in the summer), women picked and processed, and even children did odd jobs. The work was tough but according to the employees, “Old man Varn was a good man.” The factory sustained the community for 65 years until it closed in 1985, leaving many unemployed for the first time in their lives, and with a deep sense of loss. Since then the community has struggled to retain its identity as it is the last community of slave descendants left living on a slice of Georgia coastline, all the other islands and coastal areas have been bought up by the wealthy and those historical communities have all but disappeared.

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A tour of Pin Point can be done on your own or with a guide and with or without the 35 minute introductory documentary film. We decided to watch the documentary and then tour the buildings on our own reading the various placards and interactive displays.

The documentary was very enlightening, narrated by many current and former members of the community, including Chief Justice Clarence Thomas, who was born there and whose mother picked crab at the factory. The film explained how the Pin Point factory worked, and what the lives of the community members were like, as well as it touched on aspects of the Gullah/Geechee culture. It opened with a very memorable line from an elder community member, “Not knowing one’s own history is like trying to grow a tree without roots.” A wise man who understands that history, on so many different levels, is important…lest we forget.

Following the documentary, we toured the outbuildings including the crab boiling pavilion, pickling and cooling house, oyster factory and the deviled crab house.

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The entire experience was as educational as I hoped it would be-for instance, do you know how much the shell of an oyster contributes to its weight? 80%. Do you know what the gullah word chillun means? children. Do you know what the name for the flat bottom boats are that they would use to harvest the crabs and oysters? bateaux.

We all really enjoyed this stop and it accomplished everything I hoped it would, and it certainly left us thinking…

We left from Pin Point to go and have some lunch and explore one of the nearby sea islands, Skidaway. It was not what I was expecting as the entire island is basically one gated community after another, pretty ironic after listening to the documentary about  the Pin Point community trying to hang on while the wealthy buy up all the coastline…

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Private dock

We were very hungry by this time so we decided to grab some snacks from the grocery store and picnic in the only public place on the island, the Skidaway State Park. We paid our entrance fee, parked and began walking on the trail that the ranger said would be the best and most beautiful. It was one mile to the picnic tables where, she said, we would enjoy a riverside position seeing a multitude of shorebirds and dolphins. Well, I think she was a bit mistaken because the only thing we encountered were swarms of gnats which made eating rather difficult. The walk through the park, on the other hand, along the boardwalks and over the waterways was lovely and was worth the trek in.

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We returned to the apartment with time to shower and decide on our restaurant for the evening. I had made reservations ahead of time at a very nice restaurant, but more recent reviews have said that the service was really lacking and dinners were taking forever to complete. With Mimi having a very early wake up call tomorrow and the fact she would be losing an hour of sleep, I thought we should skip it in favor of something that might suit our needs better. Mimi and I looked over a few menus on line and settled on a restaurant we had passed a few times and whose menu had something for all of us.

Chive was very swanky inside, a cross between a 70s nightclub and an ultra modern hipster hotel. We were all very excited with the menu and settled on our meals: for Jenny carpaccio (shocking, right?), tuna ceviche, and an arugula salad, mussels and crab salad for me and steamed clams and sashimi for Mimi. We had a good laugh about our meals though because five of the seven dishes, including the sashimi, incorporated grapes and strawberries (and they were never listed anywhere as any of the ingredients)-we decided there must have been a discount for buying them in bulk that week. Nevertheless, we enjoyed our meals and while I do not think we got back to the apartment any earlier than we would have if we had kept our original reservation, I know for sure that we enjoyed our meals more than we would have at the more formal place.

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On the walk back to the apartment, Mimi said she was sad to be leaving us tomorrow, we couldn’t have agreed more. We always love spending time with her and we miss not seeing her as much as we used to. We all agreed that maybe this should be the beginning of a new tradition; we should do a girl’s weekend get away more often.

On a side note, it was difficult to remain having such a good time, knowing Billy and the dogs were home still with no power and freezing their butts off…sorry honey!

New Orleans Feb 2018

Don’t Do As The Fools Do

As part of our continued effort to see more of the United States, we planned a trip to the Big Easy, aka New Orleans. Billy was supposed to join us but unfortunately, he came home the night before departure sick as a dog.

Jenny and I arrived at 9:30 at night and with the darkness, we saw nothing of our surroundings. After checking in, I decided I would like a glass of wine but the bar in our hotel was closed so I was told to head to the Ritz Carlton which is attached to our hotel. As the elevator doors opened on the bar floor, it went from a stale silence to a definitive, unmistakable auricular confirmation of where I was! The brass band blasting was certainly as great a welcome wagon as the lab and pit bull that jump on me whenever I return from even the shortest of time away from home. The bar was hopping, with well dressed persons and an in–the-know clientele and while I certainly felt a bit foolish zigzagging my roller board through the crowds, I loved the jumping vibe of the place.

I had told Jenny breakfast was at 10:00, so there was some opportunity for her to sleep in in the morning. We were out the door by 9:45, with just the right amount of time to walk the eight blocks to Brennan’s. Brennan’s is a New Orleans institution-it ranks up there with Gallitores, Commanders Palace and Antoine’s. Jenny and I were showed to a lovely table where we proceeded to have a scrumptious breakfast-French press coffee along with Eggs Benedict for Jenny and for me a very decadent Eggs Soldour (creamed spinach topped with a slightly crunchy artichoke heart, topped with a poached egg and finished off with a creole hollandaise), with a delicious house made biscuit and jam for desert!

Following breakfast we began to make our way down the infamous Bourbon Street. I had decided that daytime hours would probably be the better choice of time to see it versus the evening hours. I certainly wasn’t interested in experiencing all the debauchery that is said to take place along this stretch of infamous roadway.

Bourbon street with all its glaring neon signs detract from any architectural prowess that the street might have so after a few blocks of walking the infamous street, we cut over to Royal street to continue our walking tour of the French Quarter.

Royal Street was more dignified and it was here that one really saw the architecture that this area is famous for. Many of the second floor apartments though had hanging baskets and railing boxes that were dead-kind of an odd sight. After a few blocks of it though, I realized it must have been from the unusual cold snap New Orleans experienced a few weeks back.

Before we left home, I had kept reading about all the different places you will see and hear street musicians and it was here, on Royale Street, that the encounters began. The first group was seven quasi hippies (four on brass, one on drums, one on strings and one bass) playing some upbeat jazz; a block later there was a father, mother and daughter (maybe 15) trio that were belting out some more lively jazz. A few more blocks and there was a duo playing hill billy country music-what? I think they missed their bus exit a few states north. They were really so out of place and clearly not as enjoyed by the passerby’s as there was but one small group of women listening and when I gave them a dollar, it was the only money in their tip bucket!

Jenny and I walked on, enjoying that the crowds of people had thinned out but in keeping aware of our surroundings there were still plenty of people about. It was fun to see so many buildings decorated up for Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday was three days ago), including the trees shining with their bounty of beads hanging.

Upon reaching Esplanade Avenue, I knew we didn’t want to cross over as this is the eastern edge of the French Quarter and the beginning of the Faubourg Marigny area, an area that though gentrifying, wasn’t advisable for us to walk into. When we turned down Esplanade at first glance it was a lovely street, with a beautiful center divider planted with native bayou plants but it quickly turned a bit dicey feeling-with the camps of homeless people, many of them young hippie types, set up everywhere. The good news is we were not alone as others were walking along too but I made a quick turn back into the French Quarter on Decatur and found ourselves at the beginning of the French Market.

The French Market is billed as one long flea market (though I would call it mostly tacky tourist crap) mixed with food stalls of the local sort. Here we came across the heaps of steamed shrimp and bushels of oysters that New Orleans is famous for-I told Jenny that dad would have been all over it as well as enjoyed the comical “motha shucker!”

We then happened upon the offices of the National Park Service’s headquarters for the New Orleans Jazz National Historical Park, and while I had forgotten to grab Jenny’s stamp book before we left, we went inside and stamped a sheet to add to our collection. We had just missed a group playing African drums inside but one of the ladies was still there and letting people know that we could hear the drums later at 3:00 at Congo Square in Louis Armstrong Park. She also issued a stern warning to us-make sure we don’t go down any dark roads, to stay with the masses of people-something else I had already read up on before we left home.

We continued on toward Jackson Square and the famed Café du Monde. Though neither of us were very hungry, upon arrival, Jenny and I took our place in line to get a seat and try some of their world famous beignets. We were definitely fuller than we had realized because neither of us could finish our pillows of fried dough dusted (smothered really) with powdered sugar. It is definitely something you do not want to eat if you are wearing black. It also stood to reason with the piles of white powder that was present at every table’s feet, why we saw shops with signs that said, “No eating beignets inside.” The verdict-we thought them just OK, we much preferred the ones we had at The Beachcomber in Crystal Cove, CA.

After our quick stop at Café du Monde we walked up to an overlook that looked out to the mighty milk chocolate Mississippi on one side and St. Louis Cathedral and Jackson Square on the other side. There was a nice breeze that we both enjoyed as when the sun poked out from behind the clouds it was hot.

Jenny and I headed towards St. Louis Cathedral, walking around Jackson Square admiring all the artists that have their pieces displayed. We came upon a shoe shiner who had a sign out that said, “I ain’t gonna ask you where you got your shoes from. I ain’t gonna try and scam you. I work hard for my money.” Apparently there is a scam that goes on where someone will tell an unsuspecting tourist that they will bet them that they know where they got them shoes-the answer you gots them on your feet-they then demand money for the correct answer. I had read about this too before we left home and was familiar with why he had this sign. If I had not been wearing sneakers, I would have gladly paid this gentleman to shine my shoes!

We walked into St. Louis Cathedral, the oldest cathedral in the United States-founded in 1720 by the French, and were immediately met by the candle offering. Finally, I can light a candle for my father in the South, remembering how many churches I tried to and failed in in Charleston. This cathedral certainly doesn’t compare to the ones in Europe but it was nonetheless serene.

Upon exiting, we were immediately met by a group of young boys playing some mean jazz. Every now and then another boy would show up and pull out an instrument and join in. They were really very good and Jenny and I enjoyed watching them for quite some time, that is until something else caught our attention-a couple walking dressed as a pirate and his wench, and let me just say both Jenny’s and my mouth dropped when we saw the size of this woman’s boobs. OMG!!

As we continued walking, our ensuing conversation certainly brought a lot of laughs, and we were beyond amused with ourselves. About that time one of the artist’s works caught our eye and we stopped and purchased two wood block pieces of a trumpeter that was reminiscent of Louis Armstrong.

Having had enough of the throngs of people we decided to walk over to the river and make our way along the river walk back towards the hotel. Once up on the levee, the breeze was so refreshing we took a seat and just enjoyed watching the paddle boats and barges moving up and down the river. The spot was also great for people watching-there are certainly some characters in this city!

Back at the hotel we relaxed for an hour or so before heading out to dinner. Dinner tonight was at GW Fins-the #1 rated restaurant on Trip Advisor and boy did it not disappoint. Our dinners were amazing! Jenny opted for three appetizers-tuna crudo, tuna tacos and red snapper ceviche. I had a shrimp salad with fried green tomatoes and a parmesan crusted speckled trout. We both ate every bite and when it came time for dessert I thought I was going to pass until Jenny insisted I didn’t and said we had walked four plus miles today so it was OK. Well, I am glad I didn’t because I ended up eating every bite of my coconut samoa as did Jenny with her salted caramel ice cream pie-wow, wow, wow!

As we exited the building, there was a marching band going down Bourbon Street with masses of people following along. Turning to go back the other way (keeping with my plan to avoid Bourbon Street in the evening), I noticed far far fewer people. Hearing the words of the woman from earlier in the park office in my head, I told Jenny we were headed into the debauchery that is Bourbon street to get back to the hotel. Of course we literally just turned the corner and some girl is flashing herself to receive the beads that are literally hanging off every street sign, wrapped around every pole and dangling from every fence post and tree branch. Oh well-so much for well intended plans-I suppose the old adages are smart to live by-better safe than sorry, safety in numbers and don’t do like the fools do!

Our first day in New Orleans was certainly an interesting one. Tomorrow we plan on going to the Garden District, a far quieter and more genteel area than the French Quarter. It has been quite an experience, and we saw things we haven’t ever seen before-including the good, the bad and the downright hideous! We were just sorry Billy wasn’t here to share it all with us!

Sunday, February 18

Send Them An Email We’re Coming and Don’t Do As The Fools Do, Part II

This morning Jenny and I were headed to Ruby Slipper Cafe for breakfast-an establishment far different than Brennan’s with an almost cult-like following. I had read about this app called No Wait before we left where we could put our name on the list without ever having to walk in the door, so we took advantage of that and put our name in as we finished readying in our room.

By the time we arrived at our designated time, there was a mass of people outside but we waited no more than ten minutes before being seated. The menu was eclectic with a very cajun/creole twist and Jenny and I decided we would split our meals. We had an eggs benedict (this time with applewood smoked bacon and roasted tomato on a biscuit) as well as french toast batons- simply delicious!

After finishing breakfast we walked a few blocks down Canal Street to grab the St. Charles streetcar to the Garden District. The St. Charles is the oldest continuously operated streetcar in the world, having been in operation since 1835 and was designated a National Historic Landmark in 2014.

The ride along St. Charles was pleasant, with the refreshing breeze keeping things comfortable and the unique setting passing by. I had decided we would get off at Jackson Street to go and see Buckner mansion, a home that has been used in, among other shows, American Horror Story. Buckner mansion was built in 1856 by the cotton kingpin Henry S Buckner, who happens to be my 3rd cousin five times removed (we both descend from my 7th great grandfather). It is an opulent mansion and was built to compete with Buckner’s ex-partner, Stanton, that had the most luxurious mansion of the time in Natchez.

Jenny said I should have emailed them to let them know we would be coming and would love a tour of the family homestead, just like we had done at Ashlawn/Highland and Morven…funny girl she is!

Almost across the street, the pink Trinity Church was letting out from Sunday mass. It was at this church in 1870 that the sister of my great great grandmother Jennie Buckner, was married in, having retained the invitation in the family all these years. It left me imagining if perhaps there had been a reception held for them across the street in the beautiful Buckner mansion.

From there Jenny and I zigzagged up and down through the Lower Garden District, enjoying the magnificent mansions with their wraparound porches, sweeping staircases, and second floor galleries. The architectural styles are varied but I think Jenny and I both settled on liking the plantation styles best. Every now and then there was a smaller bungalow or a pair of shotgun houses mixed in but for the most part, they were all big!Even here, away from the parade routes, the majority of the houses were decorated in some fashion for Mardi Gras. Some of the most opulent of mansions had beads hanging around their wrought iron fences and dangling from their trees.

The Garden District is the antithesis of the French Quarter-quiet, clean, and green (though it was sad to see how many dead plants there were-clearly banana trees, ferns, palmettos and palms do not appreciate the cold temperatures). We enjoyed our time walking through these mostly deserted streets and escaping the mayhem of the Quarter.

At one point, we happened upon the famed Commander’s Palace-a teal and white painted building with matching striped awnings, as the well-heeled were arriving for Sunday brunch. Across the street was Lafayette Cemetery, the oldest municipally owned cemetery with roughly 7,000 dead in its one city block. The cemetery is non-denominational and non-segregated and still has burials taking place today. We decided to go and walk among those eternally resting, admiring the ornate tombs, all of which are above ground and may contain up to 30 family members in one tomb. We recognized a few last names-Kemp and Phelps and wondered where, if anywhere, on our family trees they might be.

The sun was out and it was getting a bit warm so Jenny and I thought it would be nice to go sit in Audubon Park for a bit. Back onto the streetcar we rode up St Charles passing one enormous house after the other. All a bit different, each as equally lovely with only a few truly ostentatious ones scattered about.

We exited the streetcar right at Audobon Park, directly across the street from both Loyola and Tulane Universities. Jenny was intrigued by both campuses beauty but was quick to point out that there was no way she could go to school there as it was only February and she was already sweating! Looks like it is going to be a northern or western university for her.

We enjoyed walking along the shady paths under the huge live oak trees and over to one of the ponds. There were hundreds of ducks-not too sure what kind and at least twenty turtles, some swimming, some sunning themselves on a rock. Jenny got a kick out of all the turtles so we stayed a while to watch them.

Feeling the need to find a shady spot to sit, we walked over to a fountain and plopped down on a bench in the shade of an enormous oak tree. Sitting there contemplating our next move, a family walked up with their pug who was grunting something fierce. The owner walked the dog over to the fountain and plopped it in where it basked in the refreshment the cooling waters brought on. A few minutes later, an unexpected sight of a group of horseback riders ventured up and brought their horses over to drink. Now there was the pug in the fountain staring at these gigantic beasts that were drinking and nosing the water into waves-quite an amusing sight. I found it interesting that they were all wearing cowboy boots riding in Western saddles as I would have assumed that English was the preferred saddle of choice in these parts-go figure!

After being amused by the pug, horses and an additional dog who ran around and around in the fountain playing stay away from his owner, Jenny and I decided to find the donut shop we had heard was so good. We hopped back on the streetcar and exited a few stops down, walking back through the Garden District to Magazine Street, where we found District Donuts. The restaurant was hip inside with a warehouse vibe and furnishings made from reclaimed wood and metal. We ordered up three donuts to try, strawberry lemonade, brown butter drop (really an oversized donut hole) and brownie batter-Jenny enjoyed them more than I did. We decided that the donuts in Charleston and ones we recently had in New Haven far exceeded these.

We had heard Magazine Street was supposed to have some great indy boutiques and such but we couldn’t really seem to find them. We walked one way then turned and walked another but decided that it was getting late and we would just walk back up to catch the streetcar back to the hotel before heading to dinner. This turned out easier said then done as streetcar after streetcar was already packed by the time it got to where we were waiting. Finally, by the fourth streetcar, I told Jenny we were just going to have to get on and stand otherwise we might be there til morning! We ended up standing next to two couples, who were seated one behind the other. They actually “entertained” us on the ride back as the two women had clearly been drinking and were slurring their words and telling ridiculous stories.

At one point, the one woman asks the other, “Aren’t you wondering why I’m not wearing my wedding rings?” I’m thinking the same reason I’m not wearing mine-because the last thing I wanted to do was flaunt anything flashy in a city that is known to have such a high poverty level and crime rate, right? Wrong! She’s not wearing them because she smashed her hand through the wall and in the process lost the “$25,000 diamond.” She then goes on to say, as she’s got her arm hanging out the window pointing, “Oops, I just almost lost my $400 bracelet.” Ok so now that she has announced she’s got money to everyone riding the streetcar, I’m hoping that all those people realize that just because we are standing next to these fools, we are not with them! I made the mental note that if they got off on the same exit as we did, we would turn the opposite direction than they did!

I find all of these encounters great learning experiences for Jenny. I like her witnessing this sort of behavior (including the foolish girl last night flashing herself) because she can see firsthand what an idiot one can make of oneself with drinking too much.

Jenny and I had a good laugh after they got off because they had been having this debate about how to pronounce New Orleans. One of the men had turned to Jenny and asked her if she was from there, to which she of course replied no. Afterwards she said she wished she had said yes and had a little fun with him telling him that in order to sound like a local, you need to pronounce it Noh• Or•lee•ans…too funny!

Dinner tonight was unfortunately not anywhere as good as the night before. The service was completely nonexistent for the first 20 minutes after being seated (though they did apologize profusely as well as give us an additional appetizer and comp us a dessert). The menu was almost so avant-garde that you were really wondering what it was you had just ordered. The food was really just OK. Jenny and I opted to split a whole deep fried fish-a new experience for her but a dish that is common to the South. She was a bit surprised it arrived with its head and eyeballs still attached though she was game to eat it and actually enjoyed it.

Our walk back from dinner found us in stitches-laughing so hard I am sure people thought the both of us drunk. What were we laughing at? Well I really don’t know. We were just being silly, Jenny especially, but it was the perfect ending to a wonderful day, spent with my girl!

Monday, February 20

Educated in New Orleans

Jenny decided we were going to get up and out earlier today and had chosen a place for breakfast a short cab ride away. Willa Jean’s was a great space and had a great menu. We settled on splitting an order of the griddled banana bread and then an order of huevos rancheros for Jenny and avocado toast for me along with two milk honey iced lattes-all delicious, and as Jenny said it was deserved after having walked over six miles yesterday!

Overly stuffed, we walked back to the hotel to pack our bags and set out in time to catch the first tour of the day at the historic Hermann-Grima House. The 6000 plus square foot house was built in 1831 for Samuel Hermann, the wealthiest man in New Orleans at the time. It was built right in the middle of the French Quarter, just off of Bourbon Street in the Federal Style-a most unusual style for New Orleans at the time, but both the size and style were done to attract the attention of townsfolk. Following the crash of the cotton market, the Hermamns had to sell the home to pay off looming debts and the second owners, the Grimma family, kept it until the 1920s. The house is furnished with many original pieces and gave a good perspective on what life was like in those days, both as a wealthy family and as a slave. The docent was quite good and gave us a lot of historical background on New Orleans at the time, including the history of the large percentage of free colored people, the code noir, and the slave trade.

All the while walking around New Orleans, we kept seeing signs with voodoo this and voodoo that. Intrigued by this, Jenny had stayed up last night reading up on voodoo to get a better understanding of it. She gave me a lesson on it over breakfast-did I know that it really has nothing to do with black magic? It isn’t something to be afraid of. That it more a religion than anything else? She then asked if we could go to the New Orleans Historic Voodoo museum (asking to go to a museum is a first for her!)

Voodoo first came to Louisiana via West African slaves, but it became syncretized with Catholicism and Francophone religion, its beliefs are quite similar, as a result of the slave trade and forced conversion. The most famous Voodoo queen was Marie Laveau, a free woman of color (the daughter of a white planter and a black Creole woman), and a devout Catholic. She held incredible power throughout the community as a whole and as such people would ask her for help. Today, offerings are still left for her, in hopes of her help, at numerous places around New Orleans but none as much as at the Museum.

The Museum was small but interesting-an eclectic mix of African tribal artifacts and the makeshift shrines of offerings that have been set up in every inch of the place. It is always fascinating learning about other culture’s traditions and how they have weathered the course of time.

Truth be told, when the idea of the museum first came up, I was a bit uneasy about it. Everything I thought I knew about voodoo I had obviously “learned” from how it has been racially portrayed throughout history and of course by Hollywood. Over the course of time, it has been portrayed by both of the aforementioned to be something to be afraid of; fear begets fear.

I am so grateful that Jenny is inquisitive, open minded and most importantly nonjudgmental. She doesn’t turn her head or believe she is above those who are different or have different beliefs; she is accepting. So thank you Cheech for educating me to what Voodoo really is versus what I thought I knew it to be.

In hindsight, it seemed rather apropos to be getting an education at this time, as yesterday when Jenny and I were standing at the gates to the Buckner Mansion, I looked down and noticed part of a black and white tile mosaic covered by leaves. Brushing the leaves aside revealed a quote by the 18th century English poet William Cowper that has resonated with me since, “From education as the leading cause, the public character its color draws.” Hmmmm….

In keeping with the voodoo theme, we thought we would go visit Congo Square, the area where both free people of color and slaves would go to express themselves spiritually, especially through song and dance, before being outlawed at the beginning of the Civil War.

Today Congo square is part of Louis Armstrong Park-named for the renowned jazz musician. It is still the site where people come together to sing and dance in native tradition and gather to celebrate.

Following a relaxing 30 minutes or so in the shade, we decided to return to Brennan’s, for lunch this time. We enjoyed it again as much as the first time, and enjoyed watching the waiter flambé the bananas foster, a dessert that originated at Brennan’s, for our neighboring table.

Upon exiting, Jenny took a notice to the Louisiana Supreme Court building directly across the street. She asked if I thought it was open and if so if we could look inside. I was skeptical of it being open since it was Presidents Day but alas it was open and completely devoid of another soul, except the security guards running the x-ray machine. We walked into the small museum that was inside (I know, another museum) and were amused by the two different Merricks that had held a position in the Louisiana judicial branch. From there we walked the long marbled halls, lined by portraits of Louisiana’s judicial officers, until we reached the elevator to take us to the second floor law library. Hoping it would be pleasing to the eye, it simply wasn’t but it is simply amazing the amount of law books that have been published!

Upon exiting the library, Jenny wondered aloud what there was to see in the fourth floor “coat room” the guard had told us about. Cracking up, I told her it was not the coat room he had suggested we go see, it was the court room! Too funny! After having a good laugh, we stood in the doorway and Jenny very astutely pointed out how intimidating it must be standing there with those nine judges, in a semicircle, looking down on you.

The Courthouse was a total unexpected stop but turned out to be enjoyable. The guards were clearly perplexed why two people from CT, neither of whom were lawyers or attending law school (they asked) were interested in walking around a Louisiana courthouse so it was kind of an added bonus to leave them wondering.

We were now running short on time so we made a few quick stops for last minute essentials (chocolates and creamed pralines) and made a beeline for the hotel to grab our bags and call an Uber for our 4:00 flight.

So some final thoughts on New Orleans: It was the most culturally different, sometimes shockingly so, US city we have been to. Jenny said Dublin’s Temple Bar area has nothing on Bourbon Street, but to be fair to the Irish, we weren’t there at the peak of their drinking times! Everyday, a few times a day, while walking through the streets, we were met with serious gag reflexes with different smells that would waft our way-I can’t say that has happened any other place before. The music and street entertainment was great and the food was some of the best meals we have had in one place traveling! We always have fun together, and New Orleans was no exception. I can’t say that it is high on my want-to-return-to list, but we certainly enjoyed our time in the Big Easy, we only wish Billy could have joined us!

And for anybody who likes some good old country music, check out the song entitled Marie Laveau by Bobby Bare-my friend Julie shared it with me-love it!