After leaving St. Augustine, we headed west along the Florida Panhandle in search of sun and a couple of days with no tours or other educational activities. The kids have already announced that they never want to see another trolley and we're still 2000 miles from San Francisco. After crossing into the central time zone (a milestone of sorts), we stopped in Destin, renowned for its white powdery beaches and 350 days of sun a year.
And we hit three of the remaining fifteen. Mom made it a learning experience by asking Ben to tell us what percentage of the rainy days we experienced (20% is the depressing answer). The beaches (above) really are beautiful. Notice, however, the complete lack of people. Mary and Ben salvaged the day by visiting an enormous outlet mall; is anything sold at full price anymore?
We did have a fun visit with friends from Maine, Tom and Florence Schoener. Tom is retired from IF&W and Florence works part-time at the Blaine House. They are experienced RV'ers and invited us to visit them at their campsite nearby. Tom really helped my mood by announcing that they had been to the panhandle five times and "this is the coldest day we've ever had."
Yes, I'm growing a beard; one friend in Maine tactfully suggested that I was starting to resemble Santa Claus; I was actually hoping for a little more of the Sean Connery look myself. Right now, it's probably closer to Willie Nelson than anything else. Molly hates it.
From Destin, we drove west, through Pensacola, out of Florida, and through the little pieces of Alabama and Mississippi that front on the Gulf (which reminded me of the short slice of New Hampshire which divides Maine from Massachusetts). Everybody--even states--want coastal real estate.
We stayed north of New Orleans
at the home of Mary's cousin, Bobette Szyller and her husband Avram. They
very graciously allowed us to park the RV in a part of their property (I'm
not sure they knew how big it is when they issued the invitation) and the
kids loved the place. Here's Ben doing one of his favorite things, driving
the golf cart with Bobette, and Mary and Molly relaxing in the (yes!) sun
near the house. We also had a visit with Bobette's daughter Heidi, her husband
Igor, and their son, Max. Max is an outstanding soccer player, but he and
Ben played more Madden Football than anything else.
Ben keeps reminding me that he can get The Permit in just over two years and I keep trying to convince him that we raised the driving age to 18 just before I left office. He's not buying it.
Those smiles have something to do with the first warm day in quite a while, although you'll notice that Mary still has on her fleece vest. By this time, the weather really was starting to bind--the walls of the RV were closing in, a phenomenon familiar to everyone in Maine, especially this time of year--cabin fever.
And then, to New Orleans and the French Quarter. Yes, the architecture is still charming, but it's become so entirely touristy, it seems to have lost much of it's sense of authenticity. It's something we've noticed before--places with some natural attraction--architecture, seacoast, ambiance of some kind--are more or less ruined by the influx of people (like us) who want to experience them. It's as if the whole country (the interesting places, anyway) are becoming parodies of themselves, a kind of Disneyland writ large.
But Hack here really could play that trumpet; "Just a Closer Walk With Thee"
brought tears to my eyes. And the beignets at Cafe Du Monde (where this picture
was taken) really were delicious, although Ben took a little of the bloom
off by announcing that they "tasted just like fried dough at the Pittston
Fair." You know, he was pretty close.
One of the fun things in any city are the street entertainers, like the Parrot Man in Savannah, or this young woman who stood stock still as the angel from the cover of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. She only moved when you put money in the urn--which brought a stately bow. Not a bad business--it's practically impossible not to take her picture, and then you feel vaguely guilty until you've chipped in.
On the other corner was Joan of Arc. Hey, probably beats going to the office every day.
And how long have acrobats been performing on city sidewalks? These four recruited Ben to play a part in their finale, where one of the guys jumps over the whole crew, including "volunteers" from the audience. "Take my sister instead," were his last words before being carried bodily onto the sidewalk. Not only did the jumper make it, he flipped over in the process. I got him taking off, but missed the flip. Notice the last guy in line, next to Ben--he's checking the progress of the trick and is ready to clear out if his pal isn't going to make it.
And here's Ben, getting his congratulations. I dropped a ten into the hat, only to have the collector annouce to the entire audience, "Hey! Here's a rich white guy".
We did do a bus tour of the entire city; it was too long, but we did learn some neat stuff. Like did you know that New Orleans got the nickname The Big Easy from Ronald Reagan after a visit here in the eighties? Or that the whole city is eight feet below sea level? And of course, that's why the graves are above ground.
Ben keeps reminding me that he can get The Permit in just over two years and I keep trying to convince him that we raised the driving age to 18 just before I left office. He's not buying it.
Those smiles have something to do with the first warm day in quite a while, although you'll notice that Mary still has on her fleece vest. By this time, the weather really was starting to bind--the walls of the RV were closing in, a phenomenon familiar to everyone in Maine, especially this time of year--cabin fever.
And then, to New Orleans and the French Quarter. Yes, the architecture is still charming, but it's become so entirely touristy, it seems to have lost much of it's sense of authenticity. It's something we've noticed before--places with some natural attraction--architecture, seacoast, ambiance of some kind--are more or less ruined by the influx of people (like us) who want to experience them. It's as if the whole country (the interesting places, anyway) are becoming parodies of themselves, a kind of Disneyland writ large.
One of the fun things in any city are the street entertainers, like the Parrot Man in Savannah, or this young woman who stood stock still as the angel from the cover of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. She only moved when you put money in the urn--which brought a stately bow. Not a bad business--it's practically impossible not to take her picture, and then you feel vaguely guilty until you've chipped in.
On the other corner was Joan of Arc. Hey, probably beats going to the office every day.
And how long have acrobats been performing on city sidewalks? These four recruited Ben to play a part in their finale, where one of the guys jumps over the whole crew, including "volunteers" from the audience. "Take my sister instead," were his last words before being carried bodily onto the sidewalk. Not only did the jumper make it, he flipped over in the process. I got him taking off, but missed the flip. Notice the last guy in line, next to Ben--he's checking the progress of the trick and is ready to clear out if his pal isn't going to make it.
And here's Ben, getting his congratulations. I dropped a ten into the hat, only to have the collector annouce to the entire audience, "Hey! Here's a rich white guy".
We did do a bus tour of the entire city; it was too long, but we did learn some neat stuff. Like did you know that New Orleans got the nickname The Big Easy from Ronald Reagan after a visit here in the eighties? Or that the whole city is eight feet below sea level? And of course, that's why the graves are above ground.
I called my mother back in Williamsburg the day we got to town and told her
where we were; she remembered coming to New Orleans with her dad for a railway
agents convention in 1923. That's 80 years ago, folks. And the thing she
remembered most vividly? The above-ground cemeteries.
Anybody remember Easy Rider?
And finally, here are some shots of the French quarter at night. We had a great meal at Galatoire's, but the rest of Bourbon Street was pretty bad. In fact, it was really bad. Colorful, but leave the kids at home for this part of the tour.
And of course, I couldn't resist this one.
Anybody remember Easy Rider?
Like I said, the tour was a little long; here's Mary,
about half way through. We should have gone to the IMAX.
And finally, here are some shots of the French quarter at night. We had a great meal at Galatoire's, but the rest of Bourbon Street was pretty bad. In fact, it was really bad. Colorful, but leave the kids at home for this part of the tour.
And of course, I couldn't resist this one.
Next
stop, Cajun country, Tabasco, and on to Texas.