First Stop- New Orleans

Just like that, June was practically upon us.  Both the man and I had finished the past winter yacht season apart, working our asses off while daydreaming of our upcoming, summer-long trip out West.  The 12- 14 hour days of yacht labor were behind us but quickly filled with the same, rounded hours of van-build finalizing.  Yet, among the exhaustion was the duality-filled excitement of nearing submersion into nature and experiencing of national parks.  Furthermore, was the flights of freedom and future unknowns.  To top it off was the wrapping your mind around spending the next three months essentially living in around a 100 square foot space with another person.

The pressure was on to make it to Austin by the last day of May, for a concert with our friends and the van still had plenty of lingering cosmetics to finish.  In a mad scramble, most of the pieces came together–with the help of our team–in the final moments and off we were to say our goodbyes to friends and family.  The next morning, hungover as hell, we loaded all the belongings that had made the cut, said goodbye to Fort Lauderdale beach and set off on our adventure.

Words cannot describe my first charbroiled oyster experience.  Its heavenly invitation of deliciousness was a delight after having just sucked down a dozen raw between us, and the euphoria of its smoky, plump and juicy texture could only be topped, by the platter that followed, fried oysters with a crawfish étouffée sauce.  Heaven resounded in waves down to my belly and up to my serotonin-exploding brain. 

The decadent eating experience continued on in proper hedonistic style as we made our way through the next two days eating and drinking, like Cajun feigns.  Jacques-Imo’s is always a pleaser and not to be missed.  From gumbo of duck and andouille sausage, to broiled chicken livers, to local redfish, saucy barbecue shrimp, and of course, more oysters– all ways.  

The nighttime street lamps lining the dimly lit Rue’s and cobblestone streets burned their light into my mind’s memory-bank.  As I walked in immersion, I imagined the city with its history over the centuries–  Spanish, French, to Cajun, and how through its traumas and passions created a Creole culture so rich that most U.S. cities fail to rival.  

We parked the van out front of Café Du Monde for our last goodbye to New Orleans.  As I looked out the window for the last time a band of bluesy buskers were posted along the street in front of the café’s infamous green and white striped awning, performing their rejoiceful version of Amazing Grace.  The sun shone prominently on the scene, reflecting off their brass instruments as we drove away.  I turned my head back for one last view, then savored the last bite of sugary praline, paying homage to the indulgent city, with one last taste.