We are preparing to leave our Comfort Suites hotel. Ben and Dad repack the trunk while Mom checks out at the front desk. Photo by Glenn.
This is the lake that sits on the 27-acre capitol park in Baton Rouge. We have no idea what those buildings are in the distance, but this sure is a pretty view. Photo by Roni.
Dad and Ben pose for a photo with Huey P. Long's monument to excess. Photo by Roni.
It is pretty quiet at the capitol on a Sunday morning. Louisiana has the tallest state capitol in the nation. Photo by Glenn.
Give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free... Don't kid yourself, Huey P. Long had an incredible ego. The Kingfish was and still is a revered figure in Louisiana. If not for an assassin's bullet he might have been president. Photo by Glenn.
The House of Representatives chambers is empty this morning. Photo by Roni.
There are 49 steps to the capitol entrance, each engraved with the name of a state. Because Hawaii and Alaska were admitted to the union after the capitol's construction, the top step is a bit crowded with names. Photo by Glenn.
This is the Louisiana state capitol. Huh? Yeah, it's the old capitol, just a few blocks away from the new one. We didn't go inside. Photo by Roni.
These ribbon magnets seem to be the latest craze sweeping the country. In the South we saw them on hundreds of cars, so naturally we had to get some for ourselves. We found these at a Shell gas station. Photo by Glenn.
More sugar cane. The stuff grows wild as well as on plantations. This crop is across from one of the plantations we saw during our drive along the Mississippi River. Photo by Roni.
And here is one of the plantations we mentioned in the photo above. This is Houmas House, located a bit south of Baton Rouge. They all wanted big bucks to get in, which is too bad because they had some nice gardens. We shot our pictures from outside the fence. Photo by Roni.
This is the cemetery at St. James. It's a little hard to see in this shot, but the plots sit in an open field just off the highway. The railroad track (at right) divides the cemetery in half. The graves are concrete vaults built above ground level due to the delta's soggy soil conditions. Photo by Glenn.
Here is one of the last plantations we stopped at. Most of the exteriors weren't as immaculate as what you might remember from "Gone With the Wind," although this one wasn't bad. Photo by Roni.
This is where we ate lunch just outside of New Orleans. The food was excellent, but darned if we can figure out the message on their sign. Photo by Glenn.
At last we are in New Orleans. That's the Louisiana Superdome on the righthand side of the picture, where the Saints beat the 49ers earlier in the day. Photo by Roni.
Reminders of Hurricane Ivan were visible in a lot of the places we drove throughout southeastern Louisiana. This sign was posted in downtown New Orleans. Photo by Glenn.
The Maison St. Charles, where we stayed for three nights, has numerous charms. One is the murals painted on several of its walls. This 1830s Mississippi Delta theme appears on the wall along the entryway to the valet parking area. Photo by Glenn.
Our room isn't elegant, but it does have some interesting headboards on the beds. Ben has already made himself at home. Photo by Glenn.
There are five courtyards at the Maison St. Charles, each with a different feature. We explored each one. This one features a small fountain in the middle. Photo by Glenn.
Another view of the courtyard pictured above, except this view is looking down from the third floor. Looks like an inviting place for a cup of coffee and a beignet. Photo by Glenn.
Our courtyard is the only one with a swimming pool. There is a restaurant/bar just behind where Glenn is sitting, and had we wanted they would have brought drinks to us poolside. We were content to relax in the lounge chairs and play in the water. Ben had a blast batting around that red rubber play ball. Photo by Roni.
Roni enjoys a romance novel and a soda while sitting near the pool. Our room is behind her and to the right.
A few hours later, Roni is still working on that romance by lamplight. Photo by Glenn.
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Talkin' 'bout New Orleans
Sunday, September 19 (Day 3) — Just our second day in Louisiana and already I'm beginning to realize some things. First, it's damned difficult to find postcards of this state. You would think that a place with such national popularity for things like Cajun music and Mardi Gras and all these crazy-named bayous would be awash in souvenirs for traveling suckers like us, but apparently that just isn't the case. In Baton Rouge and elsewhere this morning we stopped at no less than four likely postcard outlets and left empty-handed. Either they just don't get it down here or we don't. I'm starting to believe it might be the latter.
Ben got us started bright and early this morning when he awoke before 7 a.m. to watch cartoons and play his Gameboy. I was still very groggy from a short night's sleep, but eager to get underway for our journey into New Orleans. I showered and dressed before Roni even realized I was awake. I guess she was pretty tired as well from yesterday's long drive. We packed out bags and headed downstairs for a continental breakfast of waffles, french toast, Krispy Kreme doughnuts and juice. I played cleanup hitter for Ben, whose eyes were bigger than his stomach as usual. We got on the road by 9:30, making our way first to the state capitol so we could add it to the list of state capitols we have seen with Ben. This being Sunday, the streets of downtown Baton Rouge were all but deserted. It was great being able to ride around at 20 mph and not worry about holding anyone up. You get to see a lot more that way when you're the driver.
The "new" state capitol was constructed in the 1930s and looks like the Daily Planet office of Superman fame. It sits in the middle of a large park surrounded by a lake and trees. The governor's mansion is about a block away on the main road into the capitol grounds. We were literally one of about three cars on the grounds when we arrived. We parked by the lake and let Roni grab some photos (she refused to let me touch the camera this morning!), then walked up the road to the gates of the governor's home. We couldn't go in, of course, but it was enough just to take a few digital stills. Ben was more interested in the bridge over the lake, where on the banks below slider turtles darted into the water as we approached. There were dozens of dragonflies about, and I suspect that the occasional splashes we saw on the lake's surface were those of fish trying to catch them for breakfast. Ben also liked the idea of exploring the forest that grew throughout the park, pale green moss drooping from the tree branches. He thought we were being mean when we told him it was time to get in the car and explore some more.
We parked in front of the capitol and marveled at its height and architecture. A statue of assassinated former governor Huey P. Long stands majestically in a courtyard directly across from the front steps. Roni was listening to her cell phone messages and told me that she thought my brother, Sean, had called. We normally make football picks on Sunday mornings, so she thought maybe something had gone wrong with my attempt to e-mail him this week's predictions before we left home. I called him a little past 10 a.m., not stopping to think that it was two hours earlier in California. He was pretty groggy when he answered, and no, he hadn't called me. It was some phantom message on Roni's cell. But we chatted for a few minutes all the same. It felt cool getting to say, "As I'm talking with you I'm standing in front of the Louisiana capitol building," then feebly attempting to describe its appearance, right down to the lighthouse-like dome at its tip some 34 floors above us.
At last we ventured up the 49 steps to the entrance. Each step has the name of one state and the year it was admitted to the union engraved upon it. Alaska and Hawaii are carved awkwardly to either side of the words "E. Pluribus Unum" on the 49th step. Guess that in the 1930s no one thought we'd go beyond the continental 48 states. Once through the art deco front doors we were passed through metal detectors. Can't be too careful, I suppose. But if you learn anything about the history of the capitol you will quickly understand why security is such an issue. Former governor and then Senator Long was gunned down in this building on Sept. 8, 1935. You can still see the bullet holes (now patched) in the marble walls outside the governor's chamber. Long took just one lethal bullet, but his killer was immediately subdued by a rain of gunfire from Long's bodyguards. The corridor was riddled. Likewise, in the Senate chamber you can still see the remnants of a 1970s bomb blast -- a pencil forever embedded in one of the ceiling tiles. What a history of violence for such a beautiful structure. But not a single postcard was to be had here. You could find plenty of advertising brochures for airboat rides and plantation tours at the information desk, but not a single souvenir item. Ah well, we have our photos, however inadequate they may be.
Once we departed the capitol, we followed the roads into downtown and passed the "old" capitol building that looks like a French castle. They charge admission to tour the place, but we didn't feel compelled to visit. We drove on some more, cutting across the campus of Louisiana State University -- better known as LSU -- on our way out to rejoin Interstate 10. Football is a huge deal in this state, and in Baton Rouge especially where LSU was the national champion in 2003. The Tigers' football stadium rivals that of some pro franchises. It towers over the landscape, with bleachers rising high above the main bowl. If I cared about college football I might have wanted a closer look. But what I really wanted was a postcard. So I got us half lost searching for a store that might have some. We rambled through some tree-lined residential streets that looked more like something you might find in Berkeley. This being a college town, I guess that shouldn't have come as a great shock. Finding no convenience stores, I headed east on I-10 for a while until I found the exit to the local mall. There was a Best Buy and movie theater, but no postcard prospects. At last we found a Rite-Aid pharmacy and 1-hour photo. We went inside to grab some snack food for the road, but when we inquired about postcards we got blank stares from the counter girl. She asked a co-worker where we might find postcards, and the reply was "maybe at one of the gas stations?" She hadn't a clue. There was a Walgreens pharmacy on the opposite corner, so we tried there next. Roni went in and found the same answer. No postcards. Wow, I was beginning to think there was a state law prohibiting their sale.
We cruised along I-10 some more until we reached the town of Gozales and a huge sign that read "Visitor Information" hanging on a building at a factory outlet center caught my eye. If anybody would have postcards a visitor center would! But when we walked through the door my heart sank. This was by far the most extensive collection of travel brochures we'd ever seen, but not a single item for sale. AAAARGH! The sixty-something black woman at the counter was very helpful. Not only did she load us up with information on New Orleans and the plantation tours along the River Road, but she also pointed up in the direction of the Cracker Barrel, where she guaranteed that we would find postcards. We signed the guest book and thanked her profusely. The Cracker Barrel indeed had postcards -- expensive ones at 60 cents a piece and of limited variety, but beggars can't be choosers. We picked up a few and were on our way.
Another thing I have discovered about Louisiana is that it is heavily patriotic. I probably would have assumed this anyhow, knowing what little I know of the Deep South, but a few things have confirmed it for me. For starters, this is George W. Bush country. It was not until we arrived in New Orleans this afternoon that I saw my first John Kerry bumper sticker. There are Bush-Cheney signs all over, on cars and front lawns alike. The Democrats are doomed here in November. There are also yellow ribbons. Lots of them. Yesterday we began seeing car magnets in the shape of ribbons that say "Support Our Troops" on them. Some of the magnets are yellow, others are red, white and blue. A lot of cars have them. Roni figured they must be available from someplace like a gas station, and sure enough she was right. When she asked at the Gonzales information center where to find them, the lady referred us to the Shell station. After picking up our postcards, we made Shell our next stop. Roni came back a couple of minutes later with two of the ribbon magnets she had purchased for $4 each. What a great idea. I asked her if she wanted to place them on the back of our rental car, but she was afraid we might lose them. Maybe not in Louisiana, but perhaps some other state where they aren't available -- like California. If Shell is selling these magnets as a promotion then they're missing the boat by not putting their name on them. But it makes since that they sell them in an area where they would be popular. Louisianans obviously have deep feelings about the War on Terrorism and seem to support the effort. I don't think the ribbons would go over as well in California, or in other urban centers that are heavily liberal, because people there view stuff like flag-waving and the military as too simple-minded, or politically incorrect. How very sad for the rest of us.
Our journey along the River Road turned out to be sort of a bust. Roni was looking forward to seeing the plantations and perhaps touring one of their gardens. I thought this could be interesting as well, even if Ben probably would have gotten little out of it. But all the plantations we found had pricey admissions that would have cost $30-$50 for the three of us to go inside, so we never did actually tour one. Instead, we thought we would get something out of the drive along the banks of the Mississippi River. We wanted to compare notes on how the Louisiana Delta compares to our own Delta back home. Well, first of all, the roads here sit below the levees instead of atop them. This makes it impossible to see the river. Second, the Mississippi is a major commercial shipping corridor sprouting heavy industry all along its banks. So not only can you not see water, but all you do see is conveyor belts and refinery towers and storage tanks -- not very picturesque. In between the industries are towns that time forgot, where small clapboard houses sit on cinder blocks along narrow grass-lined roads. I detoured off the main highway a couple of times to check out sights and immediately felt out of place, dare I say unwelcome. One such detour was near St. James, where I saw this peculiar cemetery sitting in a field between the highway and some houses. I pulled onto a gravel road near a railroad crossing to take some pictures, but as I was lining up my shot a pickup rode up behind us and honked because I was blocking the way into town. I pulled off to the side to let him by and had a Clark Griswold moment. I can imagine what the people in that truck were thinking, seeing some doofus with out-of-state plates sticking a camera out the window oblivious to the world. Stupid tourists! Afterward, I couldn't back up, so the best way back to the highway was to follow the narrow road until it turned me around. I passed a couple of the locals who looked at us askance. It's an eerie feeling driving through someplace you know you don't belong.
Our plantation drive took us over the Sunshine Bridge from route 70 to route 18, which afforded us our best view of the Mississippi. It is a huge river, but not as spectacular as I'd always imagined it to be. We saw some barges and a couple of huge cargo ships out there, but nothing non-industrial we could get access to. Roni wonders if the entire river is leveed off the same way, because if it is then it isn't worth wasting time trying to see it when we hit Mississippi in three days from now.
By 3 p.m. we had finished putzing around on the plantation tour and headed across Lake Ponchartrain toward New Orleans. The causeway seemed to run forever. It's an entire network of freeways sticking out of the water. There are no exits until you reach the other side of the lake. I got off I-10 at the first exit, which brought us into one of the neighboring towns. We were getting pretty hungry when we stumbled across a restaurant called the New Orleans Hamburger and Seafood Co. That is where we ordered some home fries and shrimp for Ben and a corn chowder for Roni. I had a seafood gumbo soup. We shared to get a taste of each. All were very good. I am hoping this is just a preview of our culinary selection the next few days.
The traffic into New Orleans was light. The city just sneaks up on you and you're suddenly in it, not like Seattle or San Francisco where there are other towns right next to the big city. I was expecting a lot of traffic following the 49ers-Saints game earlier, but there was little. We made an easy exit onto St. Charles Avenue and located our hotel quickly, the Maison St. Charles. Roni had selected this place specifically for its proximity to the French Quarter and its ambience. I had my doubts at first, but put them aside quickly when I got an initial look around. This city is a mysterious gem with more facets than first meets the eye. It was just after 4 p.m., still too early to call it a day, so we cruised around to get a sneak preview of what we might want to look at more closely tomorrow. I normally hate city driving, but there were so few cars on the streets that I could easily poke along without other cars on my rear bumper.
We drove up St. Charles Avenue with the streetcars and peeked at the Garden District, nearest to where we are staying. Then we backtracked under the Highway 90 business loop to see Lee Circle and the Central Business District near the Louisiana Superdome. We passed Louis Armstrong Park and eventually made our way into the French Quarter. We have already decided that we need to see the French Market. We glimpsed a bit of the Convention Center/Warehouse/Arts District on our return to the hotel.
At last we checked in to our room, #128. They have valet parking here, which is a good and bad thing -- good in that I'd rather have someone else find me a parking spot in the city, bad in that it is $17 a day for the valet. If you have to cough up funds for a valet, however, you couldn't get a better one than ours. I don't know his name, but his ID badge says "General" on it, so that's what I'll call him here. General not only explained how the valet parking here works, but he bent Roni's ear then mine on separate occasions to get us acquainted with the city. I told him we basically had two days to see it all, and by the end of the conversation my arms were loaded down with maps and brochures. Don't misunderstand me, I know he's schmoozing us in hopes of a good tip. He's earning it so far.
Our room is small compared to most newer places we have stayed, but it has two big beds with wrought iron headboards. (I should be crawling into mine very soon now!) There are a couple of pictures of steamboats affixed to the wall. We've got a round table and a 19-inch TV, not a lot else. The amenities here are more what's on the outside than inside the rooms. The Maison St. Charles is in five renovated three-story buildings, each overlooking its own courtyard. Ours contains the swimming pool and spa. There is a bar on the premises, and a bakery next door where we had our dinner tonight, la Madeleine French bakery and café. Ben could barely get through his spinach salad, but Roni and I each thoroughly enjoyed our meals. I had the pasta Florentine. She had pasta in a thick cream sauce. Roni promised Ben dessert if he could finish half his salad, which he managed to do. He picked out a chocolate tart, but it was so rich that he could only handle a couple of bites. Roni was so full that she couldn't do much more. I wound up eating two-thirds of it (it was very good!) even though I hadn't planned on having dessert. Go figure.
Ben swam in the pool for about half an hour before dinner, playing catch with me using a red rubber playground ball that was in the pool. He got me pretty wet, even though I was trying my best to avoid the water. It's not as warm or humid here as it was the first couple of days. Maybe the hurricane blew out all the muck, or perhaps it's just because we're closer to the coast here. I think I'll actually try to get in the pool tomorrow. Maybe I'll be better rested after not having to drive all day.
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