February 16, 2015- Pearlington to Luling, With A Good Dose of NOLA
The Pearl River divides the eastern nub of Louisiana from Mississippi, before joining the Gulf of Mexico. It’s a working man’s river, so there were dozens of fisherfolk already at work, when I moseyed on through, on this President’s Day morning. It is a gray day, payback for three days of Florida sunshine. This was Cajun Land, though, and the good times would roll, regardless.
A few miles westward, Lake Pontchartrain unfolded, in all its Southern Cousin to the Great Lakes glory. It, too, is a working man’s waterway, and many were likewise hard at labour, on its shores. My brief visit was to Irish Bayou, on the southeast corner of the lake.
My main stop of the day, though, was New Orleans. Granted, the Big Event in Big Easy was to come tomorrow, but my Life Path would have me elsewhere by the actual Mardi Gras, and besides, this is a SEASON with which we’re dealing, not just a one-day deal. So, I parked at the Ten-Hour for $5 Lot, across from Basin Street Visitor Center, and made my way, slowly, towards Bourbon Street.
The first order of business was an homage to the departed, at St. Louis Cemetery.
New Orleans’ skyline seems to have recovered quite a bit from 2005’s tempests and trials.
The Business District would wait for another time, though. Bourbon Street was the main focus. The Toulouse route was a bit on the quiet side.
Things started popping, and beads flying, once I reached the edge of Bourbon.
Having filled up on gumbo a few days earlier, I was happy with a jumbo slice of pizza. There was no seating, but the doorway gave a fine vantage point for what was going on outside.
An Earth Angel was sending bubbles down on the happy crowd, from one of the ubiquitous balconies.
Bourbon, at lunchtime, was getting beaucoup crowded, always a good sign. I managed to garner four sets of beads, besides the small one I was given yesterday, in Ocean Springs.
It’s a nice idea, but I won’t be ready for this, for a good while yet.
The bayou, that would be worth a week or so of camping among the Cajuns!
Although today was not a parade day, some krewes were out for a spin anyway.
As I walked back towards Basin Street, Simon Bolivar was there, reminding us of the spirit off freedom that was starting to stir in the Gulf Region, at the dawn of the 19th Century. The enslaved, however, would not taste of liberty until our nation had nearly been rent asunder.
Once back in my car, I made an investigation into the listed address of New Orleans Baha’i Center. Shades of Brussels, the Baha’is have moved- the place is now a snow cone establishment. Today, being 50 degrees, was not a day for me to enjoy such fare. I headed out of town, accompanied by rain, clear to Luling, TX,my stop for the night. Lake Charles, however, has Steamboat Bill’s, right off the highway and packed to the rafters with diners- some of whom were headed to the Big Easy. I was good with a pile of catfish and hush puppies, and the company of a stuffed gator.
Three hours later, I was fine and dandy at Luling’s Coachmen’s Inn.