Lafayette, We Are Here

I'm Walking to New Orleans   (The songs in this entry are all longer. I won't mind -- and won't know -- if anyone skips all or part of the music.)

As we were walking down Bourbon Street I asked dw: "Did you see that naked green woman?" And she replied: "I didn't notice her."
    I certainly noticed the naked green woman. She was pretty, young, petite with definite curves; wearing sandals, a very very tiny butt-floss bikini bottom, shamrock pasties and nothing else except a coat of shamrock-green body paint -- from her toes to the top of her hair-in-a-bun. She was the vanguard for the New Orleans St Patrick's Day Parade.
   "If she had been a green near-naked George Clooney with shamrock pasties, I bet you would have noticed." I thought, as we approached the Angry Baby.

We had driven from Wisconsin to Lafayette, Louisiana  and later New Orleans to watch and cheer on Steve -- dw's brother -- who was running his 50th state marathon. (not his 50th marathon, he -- and his SO Kay have run more than 50 -- including some 50K and 100K runs) But this run would complete his "marathon in every state" goal. (Kay made the same goal two years earlier)

The drive itself was mildly pretty in spots, but mostly uninteresting until we got to Louisiana itself where we had to detour west to avoid flooding. For miles the elevated freeway was isolated, with on and off ramps flooded -- flat land, no drainage and very heavy rain -- there were many roads closed but no one seemed to think it was a disaster -- just an inconvenience. Apparently when you live in hurricane country a bit of flooding is just a chance to use your piroque to go grocery shopping.

When we got to Lafayette we went to a tourist info office (5 minutes waiting in the car for a particularly heavy rain shower to pass), collected a city map and some brochures for things to do, checked in at our motel, and then connected with Steve, Kay, and the rest of his cheering section. Steve had arranged for housing and t-shirts for all of us -- one of the posse was a home brewer and had brought two excellent beers, others contributed assorted food stuff as well as other beers and wine -- moderation ruled as several (besides Steve and Kay) were running the marathon -- it was  a fun party.

dw and I enjoyed exploring Lafayette. The Martin Zydeco accordion factory was closed but we peeked through the windows of the non descript wooden building -- and couldn't see anything. We visited the fine University of Louisiana art museum which was featuring a collection of Haitian art -- which both dw and I really like, and a collection of haute couture dresses made with pages from romance novels -- amazingly detailed. And we visited the cathedral, which is nice, unusual, and which probably wasn't built with slave labor or enforced financial contributions, which makes it even better. From what we could see Lafayette doesn't have much in the way of interesting architecture or old buildings but it is an attractive city with an alive city center.
    The morning of the marathon (officially:  Zydeco Marathon & 1/2) we all collected and escorted the runners to the starting line. The temperature was pleasantly cool and awesomely humid (condensation was literally running off walls) -- but -- at least for someone who wasn't running -- it seemed like a good day for a run. (later Steve said the weather at the start was fine and later, as it got warmer, the humidity decreased so the whole run was at least tolerable) After a bit of breakfast, the cheering section met at the half-way point with beers, bells, and zydeco music. After the last runner passed we then collected at the finish line (because of the layout of the run and street closures it wasn't practical to cheer at another location).

    One of the more interesting runners was a woman pushing a runner's stroller (with toddler) -- as she passed and we cheered her on, she noticed John holding a stadium cup of beer. She asked: "Hey, have you got another one of those?" so he gave her his cup. She chugged it, belched, returned the cup, said "Thanks"  and ran on -- she got an extra vigorous cheer. A fun day for all of us.
     After crossing the finish line, Steve and Kay didn't seem tired, and in fact did a brief dance step or three. Amazing I think. Even more amazing, after a shower and a bit of food, several of the group -- including Steve, Kay, two other runners, and dw and I -- went to Whiskey River for some zydeco music and dancing.

Whiskey River, on the La Rose Bayou (Blue Bayou), is a dance hall/bar and on that afternoon featured "Geno Delafous and the French Rockin' Boogie" -- My Zydeco Shoes -- It was a hoppin' joint. The band had the accordion of course, plus a guitar, drummer, triangle, washboard and a five string electric bass player. The five-string bass is something I've never seen before so on one turn around the floor, I guided dw right up to the band stand to see if I was imagining something, but it was indeed a five string guitar. dw and I danced several dances. I remembered, well enough, how to waltz, and a standard Texas two-step fit the proper zydeco so we (I) managed not to be embarrassing. We didn't try the line dancing as that seemed to require knowing what you were doing.

    A fun evening. Whiskey River had one bartender who was noted for jumping over the bar to sort out miscreants, another (Alberta) who was noted for being awesomely slow, and an outside food cart (Whiskey River Ambassador) who was noted for telling customers that his food was inexpensive (it wasn't), and better than anything you could get in town (it really wasn't). I didn't notice anyone who got drunk enough to swallow his line (it was hard enough to swallow the food) but there was nothing  else available to eat.

The day after Whiskey River, several of the group moved on to cabins at Lake Fausse Pointe State Park (again arranged by Steve) where we spent a relaxed two days: Watched alligators -- little guys we could have rassled had we wanted; took some easy walks -- avoiding the extensive flooding and heeding the signs that warned of water moccasins; and noted a variety of birds, one deer and some small beasts (who also managed to avoid the water moccasins) and some butterweed flowers -- A very pleasant time with friends and family -- hanging out in a cabin built over the water.

After Lake Fausse, Steve, Kay, dw and I, toured Avery Island -- home of McIlhenny Tabasco Sauce. As we drove up, it was obvious that Avery Island isn't an island, rather it's a hill. A hill? In the Mississippi delta? That seems unreasonable. But it's actually the top of a large salt dome which was mined before and during the Civil War. We toured the Tabasco factory and the extensive grounds which were lovely with lakes, small bayous, live oaks with Spanish moss, a large snowy egret rookery, and assorted statuary. We got a small bite to eat at the bad cafeteria. Got some samples of Tabasco ice cream at the gift shop (way better than you would think) And in all enjoyed another relaxing day.

    This was the end of our marathon celebration: Steve and Kay moved on to a cruise ship (Galveston) and dw and I drove to Chauvin (SW of New Orleans) to see a sculpture garden -- and then to New Orleans with the naked green lady and the Angry Baby.

New Orleans was interesting and we wished we had spent more time there. The French Quarter was appropriately seedy and gearing up for a St. Patrick's Day Parade. (our lunchtime waiter: "Oh, yeah. St. Patrick's parade is our second biggest one. There's not an Irishman within five hundred miles but we use any excuse for a parade and drink.") At Napoleon House we had an excellent gumbo for lunch. (Napoleon House was offered as a refuge for Napoleon during his exile -- he didn't make it, but the name stuck) We could have tried gator, but decided against that: (at the tourist office) "Get fresh gumbo, it's really good almost everywhere. If you have to try gator, get it grilled not fried. Fried is awful."

    We walked the Warehouse Arts District and enjoyed some really good galleries. And of course we walked the French Quarter. I thought of getting some beads by threatening to show my hairy old moobs but decided against it. I enjoyed the green woman, and we both noted the angry baby -- who was a guy in shoes, a diaper, and a large pumpkin sized baby head. When you took his picture he would assume an aggressive stance and double flip you off.
    We were too early for much live music. Naturally the bars were playing music but the live bands wouldn't start for an hour or more after we needed to leave. There were a few street bands but they were really terrible -- I've heard better here in Portland (I think we just had bad luck with the street bands) -- they were bad and were playing against each other so what you heard was dissonant cacophony -- so unpleasant we weren't even slightly tempted to stay and listen.

     And finally, on the way back to Wisconsin, we stopped at Carthage, Illinois and visited our grandson, Shane.
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Louisiana sent a 122 pound sweet potato as one exhibit to the 1901 Buffalo, NY Worlds Fair
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RUNNING TO PARADISE   W.B. Yeats

As I came over Windy Gap
They threw a halfpenny into my cap,
For I am running to Paradise.
And all that I need do is to wish,
And somebody puts his hand in the dish
To throw me a bit of salted fish,
And there the king is but as the beggar.

My brother Mourteen is worn out
With skelping his big brawling lout
While I am running to Paradise.
A poor life, do what he can,
And though he keep a dog and a gun,
A serving maid and a serving man,
And there the king is but as the beggar.

Poor man have grown to be rich men,
And rich men grown to be poor again,
While I am running to Paradise.
And many a darling wit's grown dull
That tossed a bare heel when at school;
Now it has filled an old sock full
And there the king is but as the beggar.
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Tigers have striped skin. They need it, so when they go punk and shave off all of their hair, they'll still have stripes.
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Pyramidion: The capstone of a pyramid.
Jirble: To spill a liquid by shaking or unsteady movement. i.e. -- At dinner this evening, I nearly jirbled my wine.
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So a horse walked into a bar and ordered a drink. The bartender said: "You know, you come in here pretty often, are you an alcoholic?"
   The horse answered: "I think not." and disappeared.
This, of course, is a joke concerning the philosopher Descartes and his famous dictum: "I think, therefore I am."
   I could have explained that first, but that would have been putting Descartes before de horse.

What do you call an alligator wearing a vest? -- An investigator.
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And so it goes. DJA