Monday, February 26, 2024

A Birthday for the Books

We are broken and stranded today.

We are lonely and drifting aimlessly in a sea of doubt. 

We sleepwalk through every challenging day like ghosts or mummies, stiff and gloomy. 

It's nice out - way too nice for a February day: snowdrops are on sale on every street in this old Moldovan town, people are wearing their thick coats wide open, or on their arms ... There is a smell of spring in the air, of new life, of new hope, but our heads down in our problems, we barely notice ... 

I have no presents. I have no card. I have no food nor plan for where it might come from on your special day ... 

My heart cries because you deserve so much more. You deserve everything. You deserve the world and the moon and the stars, all the kittens and puppies of the world, all in one neat package, tied with a green bow. Like your favorite color, like the Montana pines, like your eyes ... 

We are hurt. And we are drifting. We are lost, truly. Far from home and with no definite map of where to next ... 

But most than anything, more than any of all the material things we are not, we are together. We are drifting, but we are drifting together … I can reach out across the bed, across the table, across the pavement when we walk the streets and feel you there. And my world is whole again. My dark hours light up like the skies during a Northern Lights exposure. Amazing, beautiful, hopeful. I hear your voice first thing in the morning and I know I can tackle it all. I see you smile at our kitten's picture and I know you're the one. 

There are no words in any amount of dictionaries that can explain how much I love you and how much I worship the day you were born. February has brought me and us a lot of tragedy, a lot of pain, but all is forgiven because it has also brought you. 

I am not even sure if I would be here today without you, without your care and your unwavering love, but if I were, I would be even more lost and more dark and more desperate than I am now ... 

I know this is not a happy birthday - not in the wholesome sense of this word - but I wish you a birthday where you know how happy you make me and others by just being in the world. My family, your mom, your friends love you and are ever grateful for putting color in their lives and smiles on their faces. And me - you build me up; you hold me; you heal me when I am cracked; you catch me when I fall. You are everything, Mr. Aa. And I can only hope I can be an iota of all that for you... 

Try to enjoy today and let's make it amazing the first time we get a chance for a do-over, hopefully soon. I love you! 

Happy February 27th! 


When I picture us the happiest, I picture us like this.

Sunday, February 11, 2024

From Many Moons Ago

I remember that evening and later the night like it was yesterday ... The details that I might not be remembering I’ll make up and they might still fit ... I remember the air, the night, the pretend story, the party afterwards, dancing till almost dawn, our youth ... 

It was a warm summer evening in CostineČ™ti, Romania, on the Black Sea coast - the kind of summer evening where the air sticks to your skin like honey. In our rental house, we finished getting dressed, our skins hurting from too much sun (or at least mine was),  and then wandered off onto the streets in search of some entertainment for the night. It was you, me, my sister, your brother, and some other friends ... 


Our rental place was a crammed room in a house inland. All the fun stuff was on the beach, about a 20 minute walk or so. This was back in the day when we didn’t mind walking for 20 minutes ... 


It was 1996, I believe, or maybe another year later than that?! At any rate, you and my sister were teenagers. I was in college, but an old soul myself - maybe too old for my own good (wasn’t I ever?). I was the college student, older sister who mocked everything you young'uns were up to with an air of superiority (I know, some things never change, eh?). 


We eventually reached the beach, with its promenade area, where all the tourists were strolling, eating summer street treats (kebabs, ice-cream, fresh waffles), people-watching and flirting ... CostineČ™ti was a young people’s town, so I don’t remember many families with kids or older married people. I remember many dance clubs, most of them outdoors, lots of bars and restaurant patios. It was a teenage and young adult heaven and we, I suppose, fit right in ... 


We started walking from the house at dusk, but by the time we made it to the promenade, it was full-blown dark ... 


In the midst of the promenade area, somewhere at the edge of the beach, with its back towards the water, there was this two or three-wall  shack advertising to be a “Registry office” where lovers, couples, or even people who had just met could “get (mock) married”. The officiant would help you read your vows, they would pronounce you husband and wife and even give you a glass of champagne and a marriage certificate. You were 17. My sister was maybe 18. You both had just started dating that year (if indeed the year was 1996) ... 


And you both wanted to “get married”. I was mortified! I was thinking of all sorts of bad omen signs that this might bring. What if you’re tempting fate? What if you’re never going to get (really) married when the time might come in your future? What if something would happen to one of you and at least one of you won’t make it till the “real” time when you should get married, in “real” life? I cannot remember what I said but I do remember that in my mind, I was definitely not on board with this ... 


However, one thing I do remember that I thought right away: I knew right then and there that you loved my sister. I knew that if a kid of 17 can sign up, even in jest, even pretense-fully for such a commitment, that if a kid of 17 does not think that marriage might make him un-cool to his friends and little brother ... I knew the only explanation was that this was really, truly love ... And right then and there I knew, you were there in our lives to stay and care for my sister ... And I knew she loved you back. Totally, unconditionally and unreservedly ... And I was grateful for you two finding each other ... 


Happy birthday, friend, brother, and father to my only nephews! Thanks for always keeping your commitment to my sister - even from way back when it was just a child’s play to the rest of the world ... 


Congratulations! Or "casa de piatra"!

Friday, February 09, 2024

A Teenager. A Funny Guy. In His Own Words.

Because this world is a dark place and because we all need a smile, here are just some of the musings you have entertained us with in the past year: 


Kevin: Do we have to have dinner with this person at the table?

His mom: So what if she were to have dinner with us at the table? She is just people. Just like you! 

Kevin: Yeah, but I hate people! 

*


Kevin (looking at the picture of a friend’s new baby): I don’t want to be a babyist, but he looks just like any other baby.

His mom:: What is a ‘babyist’?

Kevin: It’s someone who is generalizing that all babies look alike.


*

Kevin, on trying Chick-fil-A for the first time, as he is eating his sandwich and fries: Chick-fil-A makes McDonalds look like a soup kitchen … Anyone have more fries?


*

Kevin: I am gonna marry someone from the Chick-fil-a family and become its CEO. And then, I'll commence the world-wide colonization of Chick-fil-a so every country will have it. (he pauses for dramatic effect). Yes, I am not gonna START it. I am gonna COMMENCE it! This is how you know it's for real!


*

Kevin to me, when he came to visit me: Coming to see you is not a chore. It’s a gift. 


*

Me: I am already fat. 

Kevin: Oh, my God! You and my mom are the most delusional people in the world! You are both already skinny! (such a sweet nephew, ain’t he?!)


*

Kevin (insisting that the family should keep the tradition of decorating cookies for Christmas): We are never too old for Christmas. 


*

Around the holidays, when it was raining in Montreal, he says:  What’s with all this rain?! It’s supposed to snow in December. I feel scammed by Canada.


Happy birthday, funny little man! You’re an official teenager now (God help us), but always a little man to me! 


Hope you’re having a fun day and, even better, a fun ride for the next 6 or so years of teenage-hood! It’ll be a wild ride, I am sure.  


Love your life! We love you! 



Thursday, February 08, 2024

“Respectati-va si veti fi fericiti!”

Eu nu stiu altii cum sunt, dar eu nu ma gandeam daca vom ajunge vreodata la aniversarea de 50 de ani in ziua cand m-am casatorit ... Nu ma gadeam mai departe de urmatoarele 2-3 ore ... Ma gandeam: oare am platit pe toti cei implicati in logistica nuntii? Restaurantul? Cei cu tortul? Oficianta de casatorie? Oare am comandat destula mancare pentru invitati? Oare invitatii vor gasi sala de nunta si se vor simti bine? Desi aveam doar 13 invitati, aveam emotii ... 


Nu am avut nici emotii ca pasul pe care il faceam nu era potrivit ... Nu ma intrebam oare cat vom dainui in casatorie? Un an? Doi? Zece? Doua zeci?! Nu imi puneam asa probleme ... Stiam ca e cea mai buna decizie pe care o luasem vreodata si in rest ... imi vedeam de ale zilei si savuram momentul. 


Ma intreb oare ce credeau parintii mei acum 50 de ani, in ziua nuntii lor?! Oare aveau emotii? Erau fericiti? Erau siguri ca si-au gasit sufletul pereche care le va fi calauza si prieten cel mai bun din acea zi inainte? Aveau dubii? Se iubeau?! Nu stiu - pentru ca nu eram de fata ... Dar cunoscandu-i mai apoi, si acum, stiindu-le intreaga casnicie, pot sa imi imaginez ca era probabil cea mai fericita zi din viata lor de pana atunci! 


Erau doi copii. Capul plin de vise si sperante. Inima plina de amor si fericire ... Ce vremuri?!


Daca ii cunoasteti pe parintii mei, nu cred ca exista prea mare dubiu ca s-au iubit. Enorm ... Faceu totul impreuna si luau mereu decizii impreuna ... Erau nedespariti in fiecare clipa a fiecarei zile ... Chiar daca nu mereu impreuna fizic, erau impreuna in spirit si in gand ... Isi completau propozitiile ... 



Cand eram prin gimnaziu, jucam un joc cu ei - stateau in camere separate si mergem la unul si il intrebam ce gandeste celalalt. Apoi mergeam la celalalt si il intrebam la ce se gandeste si de fiecare data confirma exact ceea ce ghicise primul din ei ... Niciodata nu am inteles cum reuseau sa iti ghiceasca gandurile, dar acestia au fost parintii mei. Mereu indragostiti ...

Astazi, la 50 de ani de la ziua unirii lor in dragoste, tata nu mai este aici pe pamant. Dar sunt ferm convinsa ca este langa mama in spirit si ca vegheaza asupra ei in fiecare minut. Sunt convinsa ca nu ne-a parasit decat fizic. Sufletul lui ne va urma in fiecare clipa, in eternitate! 


La nunta mea am avut un tablou cu o rama alba pe care invitatii au scris cate un gand pentru inceputul nostru de viata impreuna ... Tata a scris: “Respectati-va si veti fi fericiti Baby si Anisoara” Putini stiu ca aceasta era credinta lui de neclintit - ne spunea adesea ca dragostea dureaza 2 minute, dar respectul nu se stinge niciodata ... 



Astazi, la ziua lor aniversara, imi doresc sa fi stiut ce au simtit acum 50 de ani. Isi propuneau oare sa ajunga la 50 de ani? Probabil ca nu ... 


La fel de mult imi doresc sa fi stiut cum ar fi petrecut ziua de azi, daca ar mai fi fost inca impreuna ... Sigur tata ar fi organizat o petrecere frumoasa, i-ar fi cumparat mamei flori si probabil o bijuterie (cu siguranta un inel), si impreuna si-ar fi amintit de realizarile de peste ani. Ar fi mers probabil la biserica pentru nunta de aur ... 


Din pacate, viata are alte planuri si de contra noi nu ne putem pune, pentru ca e deseori mai puternica decat dorintele noastre ... Astazi, nu se poate sa ii avem alaturi pe amandoi si sa ii pretuim, fizic, asa cum ar merita-o, pentru o dragoste si o viata bogata si demna de respect, impreuna ... 


O facem insa din tot sulfetul, sprijinind-o pe mama cum putem, de unde putem, cu dor, cu drag, cu dragoste multa, cu lacrimi in ochi, si cu imbratisari calde, de oriunde ne-am afla ... 


Odihna lina tatei!


Mama, o zi senina, in care sa te bucuri de fericirea pe care ati cunoscut-o impreuna si sa plangi mai putin pentru dorul pe care cu siguranta il simti dureros ... Ati cladit o viata frumoasa, o generatie de copii frumosi si impliniti - bucura-te pentru realizarile facute impreuna si pentru fericirea care a fost ... 


Noi iti multumim, asa cum ii multumim si tatei, pentru tot ce ne-ati dat si pentru ceea ce suntem astazi. Nu ar fi fost nimic posibil fara voi si fara dragostea si respectul vostru reciproc ... 


Va iubim si te iubim si suntem mereu langa tine. Acum si in fiecare clipa. Mereu. 


 

Friday, December 29, 2023

2023. A Retrospective

Another crazy and crooked, and hard and funny, and light and heavy, and ... in the end, beautiful year! 


The year took off like a space rocket which we saw from Wrightsville Beach, NC in January - Space X’s Falcon 9 ...



Space X launched the Falcon 9 from Cape Canaveral, FL. But here we captured the launch something like 600 miles North, in Wrightsville Beach, NC


Then there was re-discovering The West (after a 4 year absence) - walking and the driving among cactus plants taller than five-story buildings in Arizona ...



Cactus in Saguaro National Park - Tucson, AZ


I picked up a new hobby - the study of Frank Lloyd Wright’s homes - and kicked off this new obsession by visiting his Taliesin West in Arizona and the Westcott House in Ohio ...



Frank Lloyd's Wright Taliesin West - Scottsdale, AZ


I made my search for National Parks an official hobby too - and we visited three new ones for us: Saguaro (AZ), Indiana Dunes (IN), and Jean Lafitte (LA). Rediscovered the healing power of nature and its untouched beauty. 


I saw armadillos for the first time ever and an owl up-close in the wild as well. 



Armadillo outside the Jean Lafitte National Historical Park - Marrero, LA



From a boat on the Mississippi Delta, in Jean Lafitte National Historical Park - Marrero, LA


We walked the streets of my hometown of Iasi and visited museums we had not seen together before. One would think that no stone is left unturned in your hometown, but we found evidence to the contrary ... 



Street bench in the University District of Iasi - Romania

We went to New Orleans together for the first time, too - got lost in this noisy, smelly, but beautiful old city. A city ever in search of the next thrill, ever aware of its originality and charm.



Amazing "fish wings" at GW Fins, in New Orleans


It was the year of the long road trips - North Carolina to Michigan and then, later, to Louisiana. Long? Yes, but worth it in the end, to cover and see as much of this land as possible. 


We met with family in and from at least three corners of the world. We spent July 4th with my mother-in-law in Michigan and I learned to play pick-up sticks. We celebrated mom’s 70th birthday - so grateful for this milestone and that we were all able to be together for it. We hosted my nephews for a week in North Carolina and cracked up at their funny mouths and originality while experiencing some of their firsts - simple things like lunch at Chick fil-A, their first baseball game, and introducing them to a new artform - the musical (Wicked)



The Wicked stage in Durham, NC


We got lost in the Smoky Mountains in search of waterfalls right as the summer was slowly creeping in on Memorial Day ... We found hidden-gem wineries and small mountain towns - Bryson City, Sylva and Beech Mountain, too.



View from Deep Creek Winery - Bryson City, NC


Food was new and good to us this year too: we savored award-winning chili at the River’s End Restaurant on the Nantahala River and discovered delicious fish “wings” in New Orleans. 



Bridge over the Nantahala River. River's End Restaurant in the background.


We had cancer scares and health setbacks. We had health successes too. Through home and body repairs, everything and we aged by yet another year ... Everything has an age ...


We supported each other and family and friends in the loss of loved ones or of pets, or in other losses and difficult times, whether there were big or small accidents or misbehaving kids ... 


We continued to watch the world come apart at the seams with sickness, with war, and so much loss that it’s painful to open the news every day anymore ... We pray and we hope for a better tomorrow for all of us. We pray that the lessons that history has taught us are not yet lost on the human race ... We continue to hope there is still some good out there, and try to not think too much and too hard of what might be coming next if the world is not waking up! 


We continued to cross things off of our bucket list like visiting the Dali museum in St. Petersburg, FL or taking our first cooking classes together ... 



Entrance to the Dali Museum - St. Petersburg, FL


During the whole time, we missed dad ... Painfully, dreadfully, and unavoidably ... Everything I did reminded me of him - the stories about the food that I could not share with him, my orchids blooming twice, not once, this year, mom’s birthday party that he did not get to organize ... We lost his dog, his car, and gave away his clothes ... With each gesture, we lost him a little bit more ... It was a brand-new year of learning how to move on, how to keep going without him in the light ... This year was definitely a lot less funny and a lot less light because he was not in it ...


But, at the end of it all, I am grateful for the bright spots - the love and the togetherness we have felt, whether close by or from far-away ... 


Even with all the reminders of loss and pain, I am looking forward to what is next ... Like every year, like every day - life is good and bad, dark and bright, easy and hard - all rolled up into a perfectly imperfect whole ... To witness it all is a privilege. I wish for health in the new year, for it is in health that all things are possible. And I wish for peace in the new year, too, for it is in peace that they become true ... 


Happy New Year, everyone! 


Sunday, December 10, 2023

Laissez les bons temps rouler ...

What’s with all the turkey killing for Thanksgiving? What’s with the eye-rolls when your Republican uncle makes an inappropriate comment across the table from you? Instead, how about walking the streets of an old, historic city while feasting on crawdads and gumbo with your favorite person in tow or even alone? The latter sounded like a much better plan for us for this year’s Thanksgiving. 


So, instead of the homey feast and watching the Macy’s Parade (although we have no uncles to share Thanksgiving with), we opted for a long road trip to New Orleans. From where we are, you can split the 12 hour drive into two half days. 


Here are some random thoughts that hopefully paint a picture of this unforgettable trip ... 


We started the trip on November 22nd - a year to the date of my dad’s last breath on this earth. I figured he would have wholeheartedly approved of a good time with good food and even better music to celebrate his life. Our first stop was a fast food place for lunch where, in memory of dad, we paid for the meal of the people behind us in line. I know dad would have loved a meaty, burgery meal complete with a frosty dessert. 


The 22nd of November was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving this year - and as you can imagine we were on the road with some other millions of people trying to get to that turkey dinner, or who knows, maybe, like us, trying to just get away. The maps lied. They said 5 hours and a half to Atlanta (our stop for the first night). But it took a bit over 9 hours to get to our hotel. We were stiff, tired, and hungry. We got to New Orleans the following day, Thanksgiving Thursday, after having our Thanksgiving lunch at a Cracker Barrel in Mobile, AL - the only place in three different states that we found open. 


New Orleans is a melting pot of all things strange, unique, weird, amazing, smelly, delicious, diverse, and so, so much more ... The first time I went there, in 2004, I told people when I got back that my eyeballs were literally in pain, strained from seeing so much ... too much ... of everything ... I used to call it “the Disney World for adults” until I saw Las Vegas, and then, I changed my mind. Nowadays, after my second visit, I would call it “the adults’ Disney World with a rich and beautiful history” (which is what’s missing in Vegas). 


The past creeps into everything you see and experience in this grand old city. The buildings and cobblestone streets speak of the past, the filth and decrepitude brought over by hundreds of years of humidity speaks of the past, the historic markers speak of a rich history, of carnage and tragedy, of death and also of victory. The past is very much part of the present today in New Orleans - it was never replaced but dragged into the light of today, kicking and screaming. The gas-fueled lamps burning day and night at every street corner are reminders of this past. 





The eerie beauty of New Orleans at night


New Orleans plays tricks on everything you think you know about the order of the world. Everything you know about propriety and “rules” has its own set of measures and limits in New Orleans. Objectifying women in the windows of bars while belting out indecent and abusive words as you pretend you’re spanking them? Maybe two year old toddler playing the drums in the middle of the street at 11PM on Thanksgiving night and collecting tips? A sassy, belligerent waitress named Spaghetti? They are all commonplace in New Orleans. 



Street gas lamps burning in the middle of the day


I have never been more confused about the gender of most people in one place like I was during this trip. Although in The South and people here get and allow freely the “yes, ma’am”-s and “no, sir”-s on a regular basis, I never dared say these words to anyone there, because I was just not sure. Not that it would be important, of course, except for how I frame my responses. 


One of the things people come to New Orleans for is the food. Whether you eat a po boy in the street or a fancy seafood stew at an exclusive restaurant booked months in advance, you’ll be in for a treat! What I have learned is that you cannot go wrong in these parts, as everyone knows how to cook with flavor. It’s in their blood. Food is always fresh, cooked from scratch and cooked with a love you can taste. You just know that these many layers of flavor, this much depth does not come from a bag of Sysco frozen potatoes. 


The fin wings appetizer at GW Fins took the absolute “best meal” prize on this trip for me. Someone out there read my mind and knew I was coming when they invented these goodies. I have been saying for years that yes, fish, too, have wings that are totally edible and delicious, and that is exactly what they were. And some lookers to boot! 



The fin wings at GW Fins


Not sure if it was the cold weather (and it was cold! 55F degrees daily or less and raining the whole time we were there), or what, but the streets were not flooded with music, like I remembered them ... There was the occasional cover band here or there, a blues musician in one restaurant, a couple of rap performers (with the women dancing half-naked in the windows), a jazz band at our hotel, and that was about that ... When I first went to New Orleans, almost 20 years ago, zydeco was flowing freely from every street corner; street performers were overstepping each other’s spaces for an enchanted cocktail of sounds and rhythm. Nothing like it this time ... I want to believe that this was the dark, wet, at times freezing weather that was to blame and it’s not a change in this musical city’s DNA, because this would be a shame. 


I have a friend who says New Orleans smells like vomit. And he is not exaggerating. It smells like sewage after a carnage. Just putrid and breathtakingly, nauseatingly stenchy. The reeking smell of pot flowing from every establishment or hitting you in the face from every fifth person you meet is not helping one bit. 


It’s a city revolving around good times, partying, and loving life to the fullest. Everyone there comes on an escaping mission from their routine, from their everyday boredom to test the boundaries and embrace excessiveness. There are no boundaries, it seems, and no regrets ... These belong to another world, out there, left at home ... The world one escapes from and dreams about during their daily existence ... 


The tourists as well as the wait staff, cleaning people, tour guides, boat captains - everyone are in this mutual silent agreement to show or give a good time to all, regardless of what it costs or how strange the request might be ... It’s a bon vivant's paradise. 


Like with so many other places I have been to on vacation (cruises, New York, Hawaii), the amount of great time spent in these places is directly proportional to the amount of guilt I feel towards the people providing these priceless escapes. Everyone, in every restaurant we entered, every souvenir shop, every tourist attraction we experienced was so incredibly nice and patient, so gracious with the pettiest and crankiest of people, worked so incredibly hard from the wee hours of the morning until well into the night (restaurants here close at 6AM. How is that for a city that never sleeps?), and never seemed to be cranky. They looked, at times, tired, but their sweet smiles and calm demeanor never faded. You can tell they are working their fingers to the bone and not for a lot of cash, either. 


In fact, there were a couple of times when I thought I saw a waitress doubling up duties as a palm reader in front of St. Louis Cathedral one day. And there were a couple of street dancers that I thought I had seen waiting on tables in a fried food joint. It’s a hard job, entertaining in a city such as this, and it looks like not for much of a reward, either, which makes one who partakes in these well-spent experiences feel guilty and the experience somewhat bitter-sweet.


New Orleans is very much a city of contrasts. The beauty and originality of art right next door to the squalor of the street; the peaceful, lazy roll of the Mississippi river, right next to the hustle and bustle of the French Quarter, engulfed in constant motion and noise. The rich and the poor sitting next to each other at the same communal table sharing beignets on the patio of Cafe du Monde. 


There are some joints in town where class distinctions pretty much disappear. But there are others where class differences are clearly delineated. For example, one night, we had failed to get reservations for dinner (and it was close to impossible over this Thanksgiving weekend to get into any place for dinner without one). So we ended up in a somewhat high-end establishment (mysteriously called Mr. B’s Bistro). Not every restaurant we go to has its own wiki page, but this one does (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mr._B%27s_Bistro - and I still don’t know who Mr. B. is). They were the first restaurant we walked in that agreed to take us in without a reservation, but  ... they immediately could tell we were some sort of a different kind of riff-raff, at the opposite end of their black-tie customers sitting in the quiet, peaceful dining room. So they stuck us in the darkest corner, way in the back of the restaurant, where very clearly all the people clad in jeans and rain coats (it was pouring out and late in the evening) were supposed to sit. 



In the dark corner and outside the kitchen and all, the seafood gumbo at Mr. B's Bistro was outstanding


Our tables were covered with a crisp white table cloth just like the black-tie people’s tables were, but the tables were closer together and the space was visibly crammed. The food was equally delicious, I am sure, but we did feel like we maybe were not worth being shown off in the front dining room, since they stuck us in the corner like they was ashamed of us, to paraphrase Delmar O’Donnell from “O’ brother, Where Art Thou?”... 


To say just one more word about the folks of New Orleans’s (and Louisiana’s, in general). It is a city that speaks, breathes, sings, and swings American black culture. Through everything they do, and with everything they offer, from the Creole twang to the bayou cuisine, from every beat of music, be it jazz, blues, zydeco, or blues, this city reminds you of this rich, substantial, beautiful culture with deep, gnarly, interesting, beautiful roots in these parts ... Its merits to establishing Louisiana and what New Orleans is today are sacrosanct. I love learning about black culture always, but I adore this city for it  because these folks seem truly proud and feel truly celebrated here - as they should. To be able to take in this rich culture without so much as a passport stamp is a privilege. 


New Orleans is also intrinsically French. Everywhere you turn is a reminder of something or other French. Louisiana is named after its founder King, Louis XIV of France. The massive Catholic cathedral in the French Quarter (arguably the most famously recognizable part of New Orleans everywhere in the world) is St. Louis Cathedral (which has a very funky schedule, however, so we were not able to visit its interior). Fleurs des lis everywhere. And I mean, everywhere ... French street names (Napoleon Avenue, Orleans, Iberville, Dauphine, and of course Bourbon) ... European (French?) old architecture with houses divided by only a small gap, maybe a 5-foot person’s-waist-worth; cobblestone pavers ... Sensuality at every corner ... A gourmand’s paradise ... Decadence and a laissez faire attitude surround and drown you in pleasure and delight ... 


Street sign and old paving on Bourbon Street, in the heart of the French Quarter



St. Louis Cathedral


Many people come to New Orleans to look for ghosts. The city touts itself as the most haunted city in America and for good reasons - I’ll leave it up to you to google this. The stories are chilling. They built walls between the houses here with necks of broken bottles sticking out poured into the concrete, to prevent ghosts from moving from one home to another, they say - true story! 



Broken glass wall between two houses in The French Quarter


We stayed at a remodeled Courtyard Hotel in the French Quarter and my husband said it’s probably not haunted because it’s newer. But there is nothing truly new in the French Quarter. Everything remodeled is housed in an old building. We were having this conversation while waiting for our table to be available at The Court of Two Sisters. The bartender, a lovely, chatty, young lady (I think, but not 100% sure) heard us chatting and she asked if we’re looking for ghosts and I thought she was doubting their existence for a minute, so I said “I told my husband that old hotels and old houses always have ghosts - I know because that’s where I saw them myself!”  To which she said nonchalantly while wiping glass sweat off the bar: “Well, in Nawlins, you don’t need to be in a house to meet them. Here, they just walk down the street witchya”. 



The haunting charm of the interior Court of the Two Sisters


We got out of the city for one day, to visit the Oak Alley sugar cane plantation and experience the Mississippi swamps for the first time in our lives. I will only say this about Oak Alley because otherwise it would need its own blog: history and live oaks. Definitely a must-see! 


I have read stories and seen movies about life on the Mississippi and life in these swamps where so much of the shrimps and crawdads (and some of my personal favorite foods) of America are coming from. I have always wanted to be up close to these people, the people of the water, who have such a unique sense of orientation for one, and who develop such amazing survival skills on a land always shifting, always moving, always different ... We drove to Marrerro, LA (a small community that does not believe in left turns; here, if you want to go anywhere that’s on your left, you have to make a U-turn) and took a boat through the Jean Lafitte (can it be more French?) Preserve. 


I checked our altitude frequently on this trip and at any given time, we were anywhere between 0 and 50 feet above sea-level. So, it made me wonder: since at the very highest point you can only be only at 50 ft altitude and since the maximum allowed speed limit is 55 mph, even on the highways, outside of the city (and rare at that), should they call their roads lowways instead of highways?! 


In the preserve, the wild life and vegetation did not disappoint, but equal in richness and uniqueness was our captain, Jason: a  mix between a Southern Louisiana bayou native with some Boston Rob mixed in. Hilarious as all get out, delivering everything with a dryness and non-pretentious-ness that only made it that much more funny: 


‘Every time you heah an alligatoh eats or mauls a ‘uman, that’s a newspapeh stohry, and not a hreal stohry … The’s mohe to that stohry that you ain’t bein’ told. I grew up ‘ere with the alligatohs. Kids swim heah, they jet ski heah, feed them with marshmallows heah - ain’t no alligatoh eatin’ a kid every day! The’s moh to that stohry they ain’t telling ya!” 





The alligators of Jean Lafitte Preserve


The boat we boarded in search of alligators, turtles, owls and other water fowl was like a Noah’s Ark of nationalities. You could literally find pretty much every race of human on that boat. 

We were all in search of the same things: beauty, nature, history - this very diverse group  of people on an obscure swamp in this small corner of the world, all chasing the same things in life. Our skin, our language, our different prayers to our different Gods did not take away anything from our common humanity. In contrast, as we were waiting for our captain to arrive, I was skimming the news on my phone - they were all speaking of the casualties and the carnages of war around the world (Ukraine, Gaza, Sudan ...), and as I looked around me, I was contemplating at the wrongfulness of it all, at the superfluousness of it all, at the meaninglessness of it all ... Why can we not see that we are more alike than we are different? Why can we not agree that at the end of the day, we all want the same things? We are moved by the same things, we are saddened by the same things, we all want a roof over our family’s head, a meal on the table, and the same corners of the world to escape to in search of beauty. This boat was my proof! Our common shared experience of almost two hours, when we all took pictures of the same things and wooed and aahed at the same things was my proof! 



Our very close-quarters and beautifully packed swamp boat


It was cold the whole time we were there. Cold and wet - true November weather. But we walked everywhere every waking hour and we saw so much that our eyes hurt. We stopped for snacks (like hot pepper-jelly fried shrimp and strawberry mojitos and gin cocktails) when we got tired, and we moved right along ... We had the best time and I would not have spent my Thanksgiving any other way.  You know you’re in a great place and with good company when you had the best time in a long while in absolutely crap weather! Our cups and thanks runneth over ... 


Les bons temps were surely well-spent! 






More beauty in the Mississippi Delta. How did Jason know where to find all these creatures, especially a still owl in the middle of the day, unmoved and serene among the Spanish moss, will remain a mystery to me ...