Everyone Needs A Dream

The Man and I love New Orleans. That much is obvious isn’t it? During this trip to New Orleans we found ourselves saying the ‘what if’ words many times over. One night The Man pulled up real estate listings for New Orleans just for curiosity’s sake – and that was it. The dream had begun.

In December of 2008 there were 12 thousand houses for sale in New Orleans. 12 thousand! And those weren’t the ones that were For Sale By Owner. Where do you start looking when there is that many? The answer is – it’s hard not to look around without seeing a For Sale sign staring you in the face. So many people left during Katrina and its aftermath and didn’t come back. With all that went on who could blame them?

As we browsed the market we were attracted by an upcoming auction of the Spanish Custom House located on the Bayou St. John. Our handy-dandy GPS was pulled out with our camera and we were off.

I knew we had found the Custom House as soon as I saw it. The house has a certain majesty all of its own. The plaque on the front gate told us it was erected around 1784 – I was amazed.

We took tons of pictures as we walked around the fence line – pointing out areas on the outside of the house that would need repairs - trying to see as much as possible - trying to take it all in. My mind went off on its own little journey – imagining what it would be like to live in this house – what amount of work it needed. I saw so many opportunities as I stood staring through the gate while The Man wandered down to the bayou and took pictures.

The auction was going to take place after we returned to Alberta and I thought about catching a flight to come down just for that. The Man smiled and ruffled my hair when I suggested it to him.






I watched the news of New Orleans about the upcoming auction and was green with envy when they opened the house for a week of viewing prior to it. I managed to find a news story that showed a clip of people going around the house and I watched it repeatedly one day – my heart aching to be back there.

When the news came out that the house had auctioned off for over a million dollars – I smiled.

It was a lovely dream.

North Shore of Lake Pontchartrain

As we neared the end of our holiday in New Orleans we felt it was time to check out the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain. To do so we had to take the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway. The causeway is two parallel bridges over the lake, the longest span being the longest bridge in the world over water. It measures 23.87 miles or 38.42 kms. If you have the time, please read the link – it is quite interesting.





Driving onto the causeway gave me goose bumps. The sight of the bridge going off into the distance - and the water stretching out on both sides, made me feel like we were alone – suspended in watery space. It was an unusual feeling. I could well imagine what it would be like to drive over this bridge in the heavy fog that seemed to be a nightly occurrence in New Orleans.



The north shore of Lake Pontchartrain feels like affluent cottage country. We were astounded by the obvious wealth and the huge houses with their huge boats moored at their docks.

The contrast from the city of New Orleans to the North Shore was almost a culture shock. Don’t get me wrong – there were some sweet little houses nestled in the pines and they had obviously been there for a long time.










Somehow in our wanders we managed to drive down to the shore of the lake and we found a large parking area and a boat launch. As we ate our picnic, a couple strolled past our car and stopped short when they saw our license plate.

“Did you drive here from Alberta?” they asked.

Swallowing quickly we beamed and proudly explained our journey to them as the gentleman pointed out the hitch on our small car. (The Man drives a Volkswagen Golf – diesel – a small car with a lot of torque – enough to tow our little 13 foot trailer)

They then proceeded to tell us how the area we were standing in had been under 8 feet of water because of the last hurricane they had endured. They told us of the precautions they always took when a hurricane was coming such as parking their vehicle on high ground and tying their canoe to the front porch. That way they could paddle to their vehicle and drive for supplies and then get back home again.



I tried to imagine what this kind of life would be like. We had already been looking at houses and trying to figure out a way to live in New Orleans – but were we ready for such a change? We’re used to shoveling snow for most of the year!

As you look at these pictures – some of you who have seen the Brad Pitt movie – The Curious Case of Benjamin Button might recognise the lighthouse. Brad sailed right past this one in the movie. We were so excited when we recognised it as we sat in The Barn with the snow falling outside and the movie playing in front of us. It took us right back to the conversation with this couple and the day we spent on the North Shore of Lake Pontchartrain.

Mardi Gras World - A Must See

If you can't make Mardi Gras in New Orleans - then you must see Blaine Kern's Mardi Gras World!

When we were in New Orleans in 2006 we toured the Mardi Gras Museum located next to the cathedral in St. Jackson's Square. My brother insisted that we had to see Mardi Gras World, so this time we crossed the mighty Mississippi and did the tour.

It was nothing but fascinating! Mardi Gras World is where the floats are made (and alot of them stored). We were fortunate enough to see people actually building the floats and one chap in particular who was sculpting was full of information and happy to talk to us.

During the tour we could see the water marks left on the floats from Katrina - something I hadn't given much thought to what with everything else that happened in New Orleans. Still - the floats and Krewes in the parade are a tradition.

Blaine Kern fills the need for those floats along with Beads by the Dozen. What would Mardi Gras be without floats and beads?! So - without further rambling by me - I give this space over to pics. Enjoy.

My Favourite New Orlean Pic

We were window shopping one day in the French Quarter and I saw this in a window and had to have it! (on my camera)- do click to enlarge for further detail.

Rebuilding and Renewing - New Orleans Style

When we visited New Orleans in 2006 we refused to take a ‘Katrina Tour’ for many reasons. The first reason was the tour companies were the ones who would benefit instead of the people who had lost everything. We also didn’t want to be rubberneckers viewing other people’s pain and loss. We had seen enough on tv – we didn’t need to see it with out own eyes while the affected tried to pick up their lives again. Having driven in from the east – we saw the piles of wreckage in the middle of the streets, the buildings smashed to pieces, the signs of destruction everywhere. We didn’t want to go into the worst of it and take pictures. To us it would have been like walking through a war zone and taking souvenirs. It would have ripped out our hearts and handed them back to us as minced meat.

Now – in 2008 – the word was out that they were rebuilding and renewing New Orleans. Eco-friendly houses were being built in the 9th Ward by people like Brad Pitt and Mike Holmes (he of the huge muscles and overalls). The other day I saw that Dan Ackroyd has added his name to the list of people who are helping rebuild. When I came across a write-up of a tour being given of one of these houses in the 9th Ward I decided it was time to take a deep breath and go have a look.

We started by attending an art show in a park found in the Upper 9th Ward. As we headed out we came across this - storage(?)area. When we first drove past I didn't know what I was looking at. When my brain and my eyes finally connected, I asked The Man to turn around so I could take some pictures. This is what we saw.










A police car graveyard for the vehicles that had been destroyed in Katrina.
We then followed our handy GPS to the little park where the art show was being held and parked along the side of the street. As we got out of our car, a woman with 2 little boys came up to us and asked us for any change to help one of the little boys who had lost his parents in Katrina. The Man unloaded his pockets into her container and they all beamed at us as the woman dashed tears from her eyes and I had to brush away mine too. The woman then crossed the street and approached another man who was just about to get into his car. I heard him angrily tell her that he hadn’t worked for 2 years and didn’t have any money. He then got into his new BMW and drove away. The woman patted the little boys on the head and held her head high and continued on – throwing us a smile and a nod as they walked away.

I’ve wondered many times since about that man. Had he told the truth? Was the new car his FEMA money purchase? Was the colour difference an issue for him? Perhaps he had been inundated with requests for money since Katrina. Or was he just a jerk. I’ll never know.

As we drove around the Upper 9th I fell in love with all the different styles of houses and the colours they were painted - the obvious love that had been put into decorating them.










Some of the houses had been freshly painted and the evidence of the house inspections after Katrina had been painted over. I’m talking about that famous huge X with the numbers or words written in the corners to show the house had been searched by someone after the hurricane and broken levees. Other houses had left the X as a symbol of their pride that they had endured. Some even decorated around it!












From the Upper 9th we then ventured into the Lower 9th Ward in our search for the eco-friendly house. Of course we got there too late (not pointing any fingers here) and we had to be happy to drive around the outside and imagine what was inside. We drove around the streets then and I took some pictures. Some of the houses were intact and beautiful while others stood vacant – their windows blank, shutters hanging, roofs with holes in them or gone, the lawns turned into a small overgrown field. In some places the front steps led up to – nothing – only sky.









All you could see was a pad where the house had stood proudly once upon a time. A whole neighbourhood looked like it had been washed away and all that remained was the overgrown earth and cement.

As we drove around we smiled at the people who were tearing down and rebuilding. They looked happy and sad at the same time and my heart ached for them. I wanted to tell them that but I didn’t want to intrude – didn’t want to add my heartache to theirs.

We drove past Brad Pitt’s famous houses that now sported signs on the front lawn that said they were private residences. They were – amazing. I’m sorry that I don’t have a good pic of them but I didn’t want to look like a vulture as we gawked at them.

Since I’ve returned home I’ve read 8 books about Katrina and New Orleans. They opened my eyes even further to the devastation of Katrina and all it entailed. I cried as we drove around the Lower 9th Ward – and I cried again and again as I read what these people and this city endured. For anyone interested in reading more about this – I’m going to list the titles and authors of some of the books I read.

The Great Deluge – Douglas Brinkley
Lost In Katrina – Mikel Schaefer
1 Dead in Attic – Chris Rose

Adding Some Spice to Our Life - on Avery Island

With one week still to go in our New Orleans holiday, I was beginning to panic. I still wanted to see and experience as much as possible in this incredible city. With that in mind we made our way to Avery Island on New Year’s Day.

Avery Island is west of New Orleans and is home to the famous Tabasco Sauce that can be found all around the world. Avery Island is a saltdome and the salt mined on the island is also used in the making of the famous hot sauce. Being lovers of anything spicy, we felt this trip was a must-do.

We arrived in the afternoon and hurried over to the plant for our ‘tour’. Being a holiday the plant wasn’t working but we were given 4 small bottles of Tabasco sauce and ushered into a small amphitheater to watch a short film on the origins of Tabasco Sauce. It was an interesting film and I learned about the peppers and Avery Island as well from that film. From there we walked down a corridor that had one wall of windows that overlooked the manufacturing area. And that was it. In 10 minutes our ‘tour’ was over and we were free to browse the Tabasco Country Store.

We’ve taken many tours over our years of traveling and this had to be the most disappointing one we have ever had. Maybe there’s not much to making Tabasco sauce except for the long brewing period where nothing much happens – but we were very disappointed. Workday or not it would have been the same and I can almost recommend skipping this part and going directly to their country store. That was where all the good stuff is.

The old country store was stuffed from floor to rafters with everything Tabasco. From shirts to ties and every type of clothing you can imagine – to golf balls and toys and finally to food. Every single thing has the famous McIlhenny Tabasco label on it and some of it is quite appealing.

It’s the Tabasco flavored ice-cream that’s a real treat though and we tasted that and the pickles and sauces they had flavored. We spent a good hour shopping in their store and left weighed down with a couple of bags of goodies that we couldn’t go without.

Even though the Tabasco plant is what Avery Island is mostly about – it’s the bird sanctuary and surrounding acres of natural habitat and wildlife refuge that stood out for us. Ned McIlhenny started Bird City to save Egrets from extinction in the 1800’s when their beautiful white plumage was used for women’s hats.

The sun was just beginning to make its descent when we started our drive around this beautiful section of the island. We were astounded by the bayous that surrounded the island and by the traffic signs we could see nestled out in the waterways in the grasses. We wondered how anyone could find their way around these watery pathways in their boats without getting lost.







It took us over an hour to make the drive around the island. We stopped at the giant Buddha that sat overlooking a lake and swatted at the mosquitos as they found my bare legs and sandaled feet. Of course it wasn’t the time of the year for the Egrets but we still walked down to the nesting platforms and had a look around just before the light gave up for the night.


I have made no bones about the fact that I am terrified of snakes. Bless The Man for walking ahead of me and stomping the ground – without asking – to scare away the snakes. Does that man know me or what?

As we drove the 140 miles back to New Orleans, I was amazed by the oil refineries that lined the coast. You hear about them but you never imagine just how many platforms there are out in the Gulf of Mexico pumping their oil into the United States. Their lights glittered against the dark sky as billows of steam and smoke drifted across the water. I tried to imagine what this coast looked like before it was overtaken by progress and I couldn’t.

We still have many Tabasco products left to enjoy. When we finish them I guess we’ll have to make a return trip to Avery Island – just for the fun of it. If I’m lucky – the Egrets will be nesting and the snakes will have gone south instead.

New Year's Eve - New Orleans Style

We had many choices of things to do for New Years Eve in New Orleans. What we eventually chose was easiest and required little effort on our part. All we had to do was show up and enjoy.

Instead of spending the evening cruising on the Mississippi on the Steamboat Natchez or dancing the night away in some bar – we chose to do the countdown in Jackson Square with Mayor Ray Nagin and the thousands of other people gathered there.

We had received numerous suggestions about New Orleans and New Year’s Eve and the one that we heard the most was DON’T spend it on Bourbon Street. We didn’t even question that one.

What stood out in my mind was the tragic account of Amy Silberman who was killed from a falling bullet on New Year’s Eve near the Jax Brewery on Decatur Street. We were warned time and again that revelers like to fire their guns into the air at midnight and of course what goes up must certainly come down – somewhere.

The Man and I talked about this and agreed that we would take our chances outdoors in Jackson Square with all the others. We’ve never had a problem anywhere we’ve been in our travels and we’ve inadvertently been to some places we shouldn’t have stepped foot.

So New Year’s Eve found us standing by this lamppost that I’ve posted a pic of many times.

We arrived around 10pm and the streets were almost empty except for the huge stage that stood in front of the square. A DJ was spinning up on the stage while men worked with microphones and cords and did the obligatory – test – test. Beside us a man and a woman fought over a bottle of something cheap while we leaned against the railing and watched both events.

The influx of people came like a wave. Suddenly the street was a mass of bodies and the DJ’s smile beamed out over the crowd like a benevolent father as it became supersized on the massive screens that faced us.

New Orleans had been inundated with Sugar Bowl fans and even our sleepy quiet RV Park was now a mass of mostly Alabama Crimson Tide fans with a few Utah Utes thrown in. This was a new thing for The Man and I. We are basketball fans and follow the New Orleans Hornets. College football is not something we’ve ever taken notice of until they swarmed the city of New Orleans.

With the Sugar Bowl still 2 days away, the fans were still doing that (mostly) good-natured jibe thing that they do. On New Year’s Eve we were all equal under the stars as we stood in Jackson Square and listened to the music as it battered us and we shouted in each other’s ears. Some people danced in the streets and nearly everyone had a drink in their hands as we waited for the huge Fleur de lis atop Jax Brewery to drop.

Eventually a local Jazz band came out and thrilled the crowd for one set before leaving the stage to the DJ once again. Beside us the man had disappeared in search of his own bottle of alcohol and the woman was now fighting with the crowd. Some screaming about who voted for whom was going on and we turned our shoulders to it and to the wind that had picked up off the Mississippi. The Man stood behind me with his huge arms around me and kept me warm and safe.

A man now took the place of the band and begged everyone Not To Kill – Not To Shoot Guns - Guns Kill. It was the first time I’ve ever heard something like this and it amazed me.

Just before midnight – Mayor Ray Nagin and his family and members of his team appeared on the stage – champagne flutes in their hands. He gave a little speech in which he remarked about New Orleans being the most resilient city in America and we cheered! Then – with the timing a little off – we began the countdown to a new year and watched as the Fleur de Lis lowered on top of the brewery. Once it was down the sound of fireworks filled the night air and we turned as one and watched them as they exploded over the Mississippi. It was quite the experience.

Too soon it was all over and we made our way back towards the parking garage. We marveled at the empty benches where normally you could find the homeless fighting over a certain spot on any given night except tonight. Tonight they had been moved off for the big event.

We had to fight our way across a mass of bodies when we reached Bourbon Street. I was extremely grateful to have my hand clasped tightly in The Man’s and to be following in his wake as he cleared a path for me across the sea of humanity. It was unbelievable and we burst out the other side with huge grins on our faces like two survivors in a flood – laughing and catching our breath.

We didn’t hear of anyone being killed that night which added to the magic of the evening. 2009 was now upon us.