southern comfort

I've continued to enjoy my time in the South, trying to experience things that are unique to the region. Last Friday, NASA had their annual crawfish boil where over 1,000 pounds of the little bottom-dwelling crustaceans were cooked and served. My dad helped cook them and later as we sat eating our food, I cringed as their carcasses piled up. Although I am not against the practice of eating meat (I myself am not a vegetarian), their sightless eyes sent shivers down my back. But I sat and watched, nonetheless, as their tails were expertly broken off and the meat sucked out. The smell of seasoned seafood and feelings of joviality filled the damp air.


The storm that had hit Friday afternoon broke just enough Saturday morning for us to drive out to Ocean Springs and take a kayak trip in the Upper Davis Bayou. It's hard to describe, I'll do my best to make some sense of it:


The tide was coming in and the water was rising--the dock that was visible on our way out, was submerged when we came back. It was windy--looking up into the gray sky, the clouds were moving very fast. It did drizzle a bit and the sound it made when it hit the brackish water was just like a rain stick. The tall marsh grass hid the clapper rail but we could hear its call as we glided by. We saw the wake of alligators as they slid into the water and out of view just as we turned the bend--but the marsh grass remained bent where it had rested and we knew we just missed it. Red-winged blackbirds and barn swallows zig-zagged through the air overhead calling out to each other. It was hard paddling into the wind--if we rested the wind would push us backwards or blow us toward the grass--but easy and refreshing when the wind was on our side. It smelled of rain and pine and a bit like salt--but not too salty--because the water became fresher as it moved inland from the coast.
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Now it's Tuesday and I leave Friday morning with my mom to begin our roadtrip to the Grand Canyon, where I will stay while she flies back to Mississippi. I thought the days and weeks were going by slowly but now they seem to be speeding by. I have to pack! I have to clean! I have to organize! But I just want to lay on the beach and swim in salty water.

No--it's time to move on.

waves

Yesterday we took the Ship Island Ferry across the Mississippi Sound to West Ship Island, part of the Gulf Islands National Seashore. We crossed the island, set up our chairs and umbrellas facing the Gulf of Mexico, and spotted dolphins swimming parallel to the shore. Although the water was cool at first, I got used to it and dove into the waves.


Sand, sun, saltwater. Sea gulls and dolphins and crabs. Dunes covered in grass and skeleton trees--perches for barn swallows and red-winged black birds. Cool breezes off warm water, blue skies streaked with wispy white clouds... I love the beach.

dancing in the streets

Last Sunday was Day 3 (the last day) of the 2010 French Quarter Festival. It claims to be the largest free music festival in the Southeast, and I found it to be well worth it--how couldn't it be? There were about 15 bandstands: 3 along the river, one big stop at Jackson Square, a couple by the Old U.S. Mint building near the French Market, and a few along Bourbon St. and Royal St. in the heart of the French Quarter.

Crowds in Jackson Square--listening to music and browsing stands for food

Although the New Orleans Jazz Fest might have more highly acclaimed musicians on average, I found the FQF to be more enjoyable. The Jazz Fest is held in a race track arena and the sun beats down on the dry soil and the only break from the heat is in tents that are set up with fans and mist. But the FQF was in the streets of New Orleans, closely connecting the music with the culture that started it all. Walking from one bandstand to another, we passed galleries and cafes and people sat on their balconies enjoying the scenes and sounds.

My favorite stop was on Royal St. where we heard the last few songs of the Washboard Chaz Blues Trio. They recreated an old-timey blues sound with the harmonica, washboard, and guitar (made of some type of metal giving it a twangy sound).

Tapping toes and dancing to Washboard Chaz Blues Trio