Folks are crooning songs soft and low
Needn't tell me so because I know
It's sleepy time down south”
“When I go to the Gate, I'll play a duet with Gabriel. Yeah, we'll play 'Sleepy Time Down South' and 'Hello, Dolly!.' Then he can blow a couple that he's been playing up there all the time"
-- Louis Armstrong, on his 70th birthday
New Orleans, City of Jazz, The Big Easy, has such a mystique in spite of the Hurricane Katrina devastation. Fernie started feeling ill our second day in New Orleans – extreme fatigue and wooziness along with an aching back. I put it down to the extreme humidity – 85% - and thus extreme heat – 78 degrees that again felt like a hundred. We were walking around the French Quarter and he kept having to find a place to sit down.....that's just not like him, so we cut the day short. I was finding the humidity really hard to take too, so made no complaints. However, the following day, he was still not feeling well, so I loaded him in the car and took him on a driving tour of N'Orleans.
We toured some wild and crazy areas....homes that were still unliveable after Katrina, roads where the floods had obviously destroyed the pavement and that haven't yet been repaired. Lots of houses with flood marks, and some with mould all over the stucco. I don't think I'd choose to live in a city that's below sea level when it's on the coast. But if you weren't looking, you probably wouldn't see the destruction. Lakeside Drive on the south shore of Lake Pontchartrain was only open for short distances. There had obviously been floods in recent days, because the road was covered with mud.
The Garden District lies just west of downtown and the French Quarter. Luxurious antebellum mansions, harking back to the era of the sugar and cotton plantations, are now mostly beautiful private homes in good repair.
A film crew was shooting on the grounds of one of the larger mansions so I left sicko Fernie in the car and wandered down to take a closer look. Snapping pictures and watching for the 'stars', I didn't notice the young woman approach me until I heard “No picture taking of the set, Ma'am!'. I apologized but she didn't demand that I delete what I'd taken. Obviously, I hadn't got anyone famous in my photos. Another sweep through the French Quarter back and forth on the different roads made us realize that we hadn't missed anything and that there wasn't much there for us. Clubs, bars, restaurants – all very touristy; tacky tourist souvenirs and tons of boutique hotels. What I ideally would have liked to have found was a Cajun bar like the one in the film 'The Big Easy' with Dennis Quaid but I guess that's the movie's for you...
We stayed at the Bayou Segnette State Park just a few miles south of the city center. It's in a beautiful setting and each campsite has so much space.
As we were driving in with a 15mph speed limit, a car came up behind us, honked, drove by and stopped in front of us. The driver got out arms waving and we wondered what on earth was wrong. It turned out it was a couple we'd met each year in Arizona through our friends P&C. This year they toured the Texas coast ending up in New Orleans...they'd just pulled in the day before. How amazingly coincidental that we should converge like that. G&D live just a few miles away from us in Coquitlam. Their site was just around the corner from ours, about a 100 yards/meters away. So it was most pleasant meeting them at the end of each day for drinks before dinner.
Fernie woke about 3am shivering and sweating up a storm and so of course I woke too. His tshirt was soaked and that's when I decided that we would have to take him to a doctor the following day. I had read online everything I could about tick bites and the different diseases they carry; actually more than enough to scare me to death. The state campground was fully booked for the weekend, so we thought it a good idea to move on over to Gulfport, only about 90 miles east, settle in and look for a doctor there.
The wind was high as we pulled out but when we climbed up the elevated highway to reach the absurdly high bridge over the Mississippi, it was howling with terrific force and the gusts smashed poor Maggie violently. I guess I should say 'poor Fernie' because he fought with all his might to hold her on the road. It was frightening and the anxiety was multiplied when we had to fight our way through the downtown traffic on the freeway. Fernie started to feel weak and woozy from his fever while we were travelling at 60mph...that's not a pleasant feeling for either him or me. He managed to squeeze out an exit and find a place big enough for us to pull in.....thank goodness! I hate driving the big beast at the best of times and knew that handling it in the current conditions would be impossible but after a half hour snooze, Fernie said he could carry on for a while.
We were shocked at Katrina's destruction in the north east section of New Orleans. It was like a war zone; acres of bare land, checkered with concrete slabs where homes once stood. So many strip malls empty, the buildings just boarded up and left. It was so wrong building here below sea level. We had to cross Lake Pontchartrain on the five mile long open bridge; As we drove on, the bayou was encroaching onto the edges of the Interstate highway. It looks as if the old bridge over the lake was destroyed. Now a beautiful new bridge crosses right beside it but the lake was way too high to suit me. I was so relieved to get across the five mile bridge unscathed. I was weak-kneed and white-knuckled as the wind buffetted us mercilessly. Fernie was tense and his teeth gritted as he fought to get across. I decided that we should find the closest place to stay for the night where we could also find a doctor. That place was Slidell, Louisiana – we only drove 35 miles and that was more than enough.
It turned out that Fernie's illness saved us from a potentially dangerous situation. While I was guiding Maggie back into a corner spot in the Walmart, the sky darkened ominously and a burst of thunder coincided with a jag of lightning that I swore was going to hit me standing out there in the open and I ran to the door hammering and yelling 'let me in!'. And the skies opened up....within minutes the parking lot was like a lake, water gushed violently down the water spouts, it became as black as the middle of the night.
The rain beat so violently and the thunder clapped so earth shatteringly that we could hardly hear ourselves think. The wind reached an apex that shook, rattled and rolled Maggie's walls. The lightning flared and jagged; the rain turned to hail. So what did we do? We cuddled up in bed and waited it out. It always feels so safe in bed.
Such strange weather fluctuations they have here in the south. Within an hour, the clouds started to roll back, the sun peeked out, blue sky emerged, winds died down, birds sang, water drained away, the air was clear and clean and you'd think it had never happened.
With a bit of research and help from friends, I found out that in the United States, 'Urgent Care Facilities' are for those that don't have their own family doctors. Just a mile down the road, Pelican Urgent Care (dunno why they call it Pelican) took down all Fernie's information, accepted his $100 payment by Visa and asked us to wait to see a doctor. We decided not to put it through our out-of-country medical insurance because of the bureaucracy and their usual suggestion that you should get home if you're ill.
While we waited comfortably in their plush reception room, the weather network was on the television. Reporting from Gulfport (our original destination for the day) the weatherman warned 'please immediately get off the roads; it is extremely dangerous to be driving in this weather'. The worst of the storm had centered over Gulfport, causing 'hailstones like golfballs' and what frightens me most, two tornadoes had touched down in the general area. Egads! We keep just missing these things......and I'm just superstitious enough to think that next time one will get us.
I accompanied Fernie in to see the doctor. First, a young man and his female assistant took down some pertinent information, weighed him (why?), took his blood pressure and temperature, double checked his medical history and said 'the doctor will be with you in a moment'. It was just a few minutes before the door opened and a diminutive little Chinese man burst in, grinning widely. He introduced himself as Dr. Tommy Wong.
“Aaaahhh....Fernand Boivin” he pronounced the name rolling the 'r' as if he were French.
“Were you born in Louisiana?”. He thought Fernie was an Acadian.
“No, I'm Canadian” replied Fernie, thinking that with all this chatter, it was a good thing he wasn't feeling too sick at the moment.
Dr. Wong burst into a fit of giggles and spurted out “Just a minute” as he ran out the door. When he returned, he had something wrapped in newspaper in his hands. He very carefully unwrapped the contents and proudly thrust it at Fernie “There” he said and burst into another fit of giggles “See....Canada”. It was his diploma from the University of Toronto. We were unimpressed but shared a couple of trite expressions to show him we cared but then explained we were from the west coast, Vancouver.
“Ohhhhh......I was at a wedding last month in RICHmond” he put a lot of emphasis on the RICH. “Lots of Chinese in RICHmond” and he doubled up laughing. It was getting very difficult to know how to talk to this cute little Asian man but he finally got down to business.
I showed him the plastic container with the two 'by now' dead ticks but explained they were from me. He checked Fernie's back and chest with his delicate hands, rolled up his pants and checked his legs, looking for ticks, I guess. His first diagnosis “Dry skin – you must use lotion”. His skin was obviously silky unlike Fernie's which he made us feel was like alligator skin. Then came his final diagnosis.
“Tick Fever!” he pronounced knowledgeably. Yeah, that's something we didn't expect :). “You just need antibiotics”.
Fernie asked him about me; what if I came down with it, seeing as I was the one with the known ticks.
“I'll write her a prescription too” he said smiling broadly at me. And that was that; he sent his assistant in with the prescriptions and she said in a broad Mississippi accent “Was he acting silly?”
We dropped the prescriptions off at Walmart and had to return a couple of hours later to pick them up. We've heard how expensive drugs are in the USA so were fully prepared for a hefty bill. The clerk handed me the drugs and said “That will be $4.38”.
“WHAT?” this was in my mind; I didn't say a word out loud; just handed over a $5 bill. Now why were they so darn cheap - $4.38 was for both of us; it just didn't make sense. So why are Americans buying drugs online from Canada?
While Momma was fishing for 'croaker', and Daddy was playing with his Blackberry, this adorable little boy chased us down the beach.
The weather returned to normal the next morning – warm and sunny – so we went on to Gulfport. We were aghast at Hurricane Katrina's devastation, still very apparent almost four years later. The strip of beach from Bay St. Louis through Gulfport to Biloxi is about 35 miles long. There is no barrier between the road and the beach and there are lots of pullouts to enjoy this long stretch of sparkling white sand right on the Gulf of Mexico. The north side of the highway used to be lined with spectacular mansions but Katrina ravaged this coast and only the occasional mansion remains....rebuilt or refurbished. Now cement slabs, brick steps, bent pipes are all that remain for most of the properties. The line of 'For Sale' signs makes one think that they are afraid to rebuild and want to move on. There are no more beautiful beach properties in the USA so why else would they sell but for fear.
Battered steel signs for gas stations and Waffle Houses stand sentinel over razed slabs; cement parking lots have been chewed up by the power of the water; the highway is new; bridges have been rebuilt, the old ones laying beside them, toppled like dominos.
We pulled in to the Island View Casino and were shocked to see their original tower beside the sea was vacant and gutted and a new complex built across the road. We were told we could park on the Gulf side so we had the most beautiful view over the ocean. Hurricane Katrina has made this area a boondocker's paradise.
After a few days in Gulfport, we moved over to Biloxi just ten miles east and once again found a ravaged cement parking lot right beside the bay overlooking the bridges across to Ocean Springs on the old grounds of the Palace Casino.
We watched the pelicans diving for fish, gloried in the reflection of the moon in the water and the ribbon of light slashing across the bay from the graceful bridge.
There are about a dozen or so casinos along this Mississippi shore, some extravagant and glitzy like the Beau Rivage which is reminiscent of the Bellagio in Las Vegas - same ownership.
Next door is a Hard Rock Casino Resort, down the street is the Biloxi Grand and the Isle of Capri. That's not all of them – and there are more under construction. It's amazing how quickly they've rebuilt and got all these resorts up and running again. But every day closed is a lot of money lost.
There's a Katrina memorial in the center of Biloxi. The 12 foot tall marble slab marks the depth of the water as it surged across the town demolishing everything in its path.
During and after Katrina, the news media focused on New Orleans neglecting reporting on the devastation on the Gulf Coast. But I do remember when Robin Roberts of Good Morning America travelled to her home town of Pass Christian and emotionally interviewed her mother and her aunts. Other than that report, I wouldn't have been aware of the destruction.
This lady pulled up beside our motorhome, unloaded her fishing gear and sat contentedly pulling in 'dinner'. She had croaker and 'rum?'. "You take de croaker and fry em on up" she told me "but de rum, you just do em wid butter and lemon". I asked her if I could come for dinner and she broke out into hysterical laughter.I know that I've preached about the evils of buffets but I must admit to a few moments of extreme hypocricy. I'm not a convert though as I'm already back to criticizing them and how they ravage the bodies of those that eat them – I'm proof of that; I can hardly get my jeans zipped up. Every casino has a buffet. I usually try my best to avoid them but we were offered so many free or 'cheap' meals that I caved more than once and the food was absolutely wonderful. Living in the south is making me go back to my carnivore days. There's always a station designated 'Southern' which is where I would undoubtedly head for. I tried it all from the fried okra to the smothered chicken but mostly I'd have a pile of crawfish, fried catfish and shrimp.
There were pork hocks, pulled pork, ribs, turnip greens, corn, baked beans, biscuits, grits – these were not my favorite; the seafood got me every time. The Asian food was also superb; I usually avoid Chinese food but in Mississippi, I discovered General Tsao's chicken. Mmmmm......Enough talk about food....I'm obviously hungry.
Grace the Walmart greeter in Ocean Springs wore a straw Easter bonnet with a circle of colourful flowers around the hatband. Her gray curls peeking out below framed her round, pink, smiling face.
'Where y'all from' she queried with real interest, and when I told her Vancouver, Canada, she grasped my hand shaking it 'Welcome, welcome – we're so glad to have you here'. I chatted to her for a couple of minutes and said I'd better let her get back to her job.
“This is my job” she said with relish “and I love it” not wanting to stop the conversation.
I asked her if she had been there during Katrina and she told me how she stayed in her house during the hurricane. Her house is 27 feet above sea level and in thirty years, she'd never had a drop of water in it, but the surge hit 32 feet when Katrina attacked.
“I watched the water come in and rise and just destroy my house” she said. “Ocean Springs was like a war zone”.
“It took us all a long time to get back to any normalcy” she said “but the community came together”. She proceeded to tell me how volunteers from all across the country came down to help clean up after.
“A team of young college students came into my house, tore down the gyproc, ripped up the floors, bleached and cleaned and rebuilt – they were just amazing and it didn't cost me one cent” she said with a tear in her eye.
“Will you be staying another day?” she enquired “because you and I could have lunch together”.
I regretfully declined as we were moving on.
We took our Honda into a repair shop to get an estimate on getting the A/C fixed and walked down the road to Alice's Restaurant, a coffee shop built into a home tucked in behind the industrial area.
Several tables of men, all African American filled the first room so we sat down in a little adjacent area. They all called out G'mornin' as we entered. It's obviously mostly men that patronize the cafe, because there were two restrooms, one marked 'Men' and the other with logos for men and women. Pat, the owner, cook, waitress and cashier was a lovely black lady with a ready throaty laugh. She reminded us so much of our daughter-in-law. Alice was her Mom and she named the restaurant after her. We ordered sausage biscuits for $1.50 each and she let us linger over our tea and coffee for as long as we wanted. The bill came to $5.30 total.
All the ornaments on this rack were black characters including Jesus.
