Dad refers to Gatlinburg as Glitterville (we have also heard it referred to as Redneck Vegas😄)! He certainly has a point. Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge offers unique attraction such as: Dollywood, the best Daisy Duke show anywhere, the Biblical Times dinner theatre which boasts that it offers a feast of biblical proportions, and a dollar store that advertises live alligators. Then--BAM--you enter Smoky Mountain National Park and immediately feel an entirely different type of magic.
Yesterday we went on a 2.6 mile hike to Grotto Falls. After we had hiked for one hour thirty we found a marker that indicated we were 2.8 miles from the falls. Oh, oh! We never did find the falls, but we managed to meet a lovely couple from Illinois who were also lost and consider the morning a win as we did eventually find our car. We finished off the day on the eleven mile auto loop of Cade's Cove where I saw my first black bear. I did get a picture by hanging out the sunroof, but the furry beast was moving so fast that I only captured a hint of a bear. Loving the Smoky Mountains. You are Always in my Prayers. Mom
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There is nothing your father likes more than a road trip! So, we loaded up Rhonda the Honda (299 935 km ) with both trip tiks and GPS and headed off on our most recent adventure. Snacking on caramelised peanuts from Giant Tiger and humming along to endless K-Love radio we made it all the way to Cincinnati . Along the way we drove by ginormous evangelical churches, one particularly tacky cement Jesus, and a deer standing in a field right beside one of those watch for the deer signs.
But what's in Cincinnati? Well, besides being the muse for WKRP (fictional by the way), and the Reds, it is home to a ninety mural public art revitalization project. Love this mural honouring Martha the last passenger pigeon who died at the Cincinnati Zoo just over 100 hundred years ago! Our travels have been safe. You are always in our Prayers. Love Mom. Some of our Favourite Things--no particular order--Nola on a Budget
Preservation Hall Take in a parade--we were there for St Patricks Presbytere--Mardi Gras and Katrina exhibit Jackson Square--just hanging out Free tours by Foot Visit cemeteries--preferred St Louis #3 to #1 St. Louis Cathedral St. Patricks church WWII Museum--pricey but worth it City Park--Besthoff Sculpture Garden & Morning Call cafe for beignets Go under the Claiborne underpass for gritty street art George Rodrigues Studio New Orleans Museum of Art Cajun Encounters Swamp Tour Evergreen Plantation Ferry to Algiers French Market--even if just to read the signs St Bernard Katrina memorial at Shell Beach--go at sunset for great pics Ride a street car (we had 2 days car--5 days public transportation) Stayed at a Vrbo in Esplande Ridge--loved it Fun Food Parkway Bakery Poboys Pandoras Snowballs Beignets at Cafe du Monde and City Park Catch a church dinner--we went to a fish fry at St Mary's church Enjoy Community Coffee Shop Buy a King Cake if it is in season If you are going to NOLA give us a shout--we would love to share our ideas and blessing of travel. We just returned from a St Patrick's Day parade in the French Quarter. Not a single tractor to be seen, but plenty of other things you don't see in the Listowel Paddyfest Parade! As this is likely my last blog from NOLA I feel it is important to finally get down some thoughts on the relationship between the people of New Orleans and Katrina. On our first day here we visited the Katrina exhibit at the Presbytere. The stories of tragedy, loss, frustration and heroism, although somewhat overwhelming, have provided a context for my week here. Yesterday evening we drove to Shell beach in St. Bernard Parish to visit the memorial to those in that parish who lost their lives during Katrina. As we drove down the narrow road with water on both sides we were bracketed by shrimp boats on one side and mobile homes that are perched on what appears to be precariously high stilts on the other. The setting sun provided a dramatic backdrop. We were all alone with a list of 163 names engraved on a slab of granite and a metal cross placed just off shore. As a community how do you move past this? I guess that really is the key--community. Tonight at the fish fry at St Mary of the Angel we got to experience that sense of community. It was the best pan fried fish, served on a bed of macaroni and cheese, that I have ever had. We asked Jim, who was apparently in charge of the fish, what kind of fish it was. He answered "the kind you can eat--was it tasty?" Well, put it all together and I think I have part of the secret of Louisiana resilience: you don't forget--you honour, you stick together, you build your houses higher, and you enjoy the fish because it is tasty. Cajun legend spins a convincing tale of a loup-garou (werewolf) that lingers in the swamps nearby waiting to gobble up naughty children. George Rodrigue (1944-2013), Louisiana artist, originally based his blue dog on this legend. The Blue Dog has morphed into a kinder, gentler creature that feels all, see all and basically appears to photo bomb Rodrigue's art. After visiting Rodrigue's gallery yesterday I have become fascinated with this every man's dog. As you all know, when I'm travelling I try to take pictures that don't include tourists (yes--I do realize that this is somewhat hypocritical as I too am one). My resolution is to find my inner Blue Dog. Through my camera I want to see the real New Orleans--people, places and emotions. I don't know where this will take me, but be forewarned you might want to beware of the new Blue Dog in me. Don't worry, I didn't sit around all day self reflecting. Your Dad and I spent an hour at the Besthoff Sculpture Garden seeing how many ways we could photograph the Blue Dog sculpture so it looked like he was photo bombing Rodin, Henry Moore and Renoir. Also had an amazing rainbow snowball. Oops, guess I haven't quite reached a zen state of Blue Dog yet You are always in my prayers. Love Mom. My last couple of days have been filled with good food in my tummy and good music in my ears. We have been one great big New Orleans tourist cliche. From beignets at Cafe Du Monde to jazz at Preservation Hall we have done it all. Obviously the jazz at Preservation Hall was jump jiving, but perhaps my most memorable experience was meeting James who plays on a bench down on the river walk. Of course I struck up a conversation with James. He sang me a song and I bought the CD he allegedly recorded. Nathanael thinks I am a prime target for every con. I think I bought a memorable experience for $6 American. The CD is actually pretty good. Mardi Gras and I have developed a strange relationship. I am at the same time fascinated and appalled by it. I am fascinated by how its characters and traditions are intertwined with gods and heroes. I applaud the green, purple, and gold (faith, justice, and power). However, I don't entirely understand the excesses and I am clearly not a Bourbon St. after dark girl! Yesterday we took the ferry over to Algiers. While on the jazz walk I noticed a pile of garbage dumped behind Mardi Gras World. Of course this fascinated me. What happens after Mardi Gras? I think the answer to this very important question is what is going to allow Mardi Gras and me to reconcile our differences. Once we have taken a pause to be someone else for a day--do we really know who we are after Mardi Gras? You are always in my prayers. Love Mom We have only just arrived and already we have experienced the spirit of New Orleans. It is clear that NOLA is so much more than Mardi Gras. When we arrived this afternoon we decided to head off to our rental (the back end of a typical New Orleans shotgun house--fascinating architectural style) by public transit. This scheme of your father's, complete with google maps, included four buses and two transit systems. Of course, this was to be accomplished while dragging our suitcases. The up-side was that it was to cost only $1.25 each. When we got on the bus with only just enough money we discovered it was actually $1.50 each. The driver waved us on, gave us our transfers, and welcomed us to New Orleans. This was the first of many kindnesses we were to encounter. Did you note the Mardi Gras beads in the picture?? Don't worry, I didn't complete any immoral act. In between either bus one and bus two, or maybe it was bus two and bus three, I made your dad run out and fetch them off a traffic sign. SCORE! Anyways, I digress. Let's get to bus four. Well, bus four never came. We ended up dragging our suitcases 2.5 km into a district complete with junk yard dogs. That isn't a metaphor for anything. It actually had junk yards with pit bull type dogs throwing themselves against the fences. How do we know we shouldn't have been there? Well, a car pulled up and said "get in--you shouldn't be here". Trustingly we tossed our suitcases into their trunk and hopped in. Sometimes you just have to take a chance. Turns out our rescuer was classical violinist Rachael Jordan, daughter of the renown jazz saxophonist Kidd Jordan. On our way to our apartment our new friend Rachel gave us a brief introduction to the layout of New Orleans Jazz. We did arrive safely. We are just off Esplanade (in the way that off Broadway is really quite off Broadway). Our apartment is in the home of New Orleans artist and photographer Syndey Byrd. Syndey no longer lives here, but we were met by her husband Richard who was able to give us some background on Syndey and her art. The guidebook in the picture includes Syndey's photos. As well, the photograph, one of many in the apartment, is Syndey's work. Another blessing. Catch up with you again in a couple of days. You are always in my prayers. Love Mom |
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Ray & Diane
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