Wet One Way or Another

I've been on the bike a bunch since my last post. It's so hot here, that whenever I go out, even for the smallest ride (to the store, for instance), I come back having sweat profusely.
Yesterday, however, I went on a long and interesting ride with my friend S*, and we got caught in an awful storm. Riding through the French Quarter, a drizzle became a deluge, and we sought shelter under one of the many balconies there. A while later, it abated, we rode on, and made it about four blocks before the rain regained its strength and sent us under another balcony. Already wet, and encouraged by a lightening in the cloud cover, we set off again when the rain abated again, and this time we left the close-built sanctuary of the Quarter for wider, less balconied streets. Through Midcity, past the art museum, to and through City Park we rode for almost an hour, and then aimed for our respective homes again. This was the worst, wettest part. The roads we took returning were busier and hole-ier, and the rain was steady now. It soaked us from above, but I was lucky enough to receive extra water-treatment, thanks to a car and a pothole filled with water.
I could make it sound worse, and it was, but I won't.

In other news, I bought my books, met one T*, a fellow grad student, and made potential plans to go out tonight and meet more fellow grad students.

*Names changed to protect the innocent.

1 Horsepower

I'm back in the saddle again
Out where a friend is a friend
Where the longhorn cattle feed
On the lowly gypsum weed
Back in the saddle again

Ridin' the range once more
Totin' my old .44
Where you sleep out every night
And the only law is right
Back in the saddle again

Whoopi-ty-aye-oh
Rockin' to and fro
Back in the saddle again
Whoopi-ty-aye-yay
I go my way
Back in the saddle again


I got the bike out today, finally. Yes, I rode safely. Yes, I wore a helmet. And yes, I was bookin' it. The roads here are not very smooth, so I did more looking at the street than looking around. It was very nice to ride in nearby Audubon Park, on a path that circles the pond in the middle. I also rode by the river, but I'm not sure how I got to where that was. More on that (and possibly pictures) tomorrow or something. Today, though, was a perfect day for biking. It didn't rain, even though it looked threatening in the morning, and it turned into a clear, warm, slightly breezy day. (Definitely the hot kind of warm, but not really bad.)

After the park, I aimed for the Warehouse District, and I don't think I got there. I followed Magazine Street for a long way, and passed through some charming stretches of shops, but then arrived at a large sign reading DO NOT ENTER, and turned around. Magazine was the bumpiest of my routes today.

I also rode to Winn-Dixie, and bought some Hubig's New Orleans Style Pies, which are a local delicacy. They are about as good for you as Pop-Tarts, although a Pop-Tart in its wildest, passion-induced dreams could never know what it is to be a Hubig's pie. They're very good, and I've only had one flavor, Apple, so far.

That trip to the Winn-Dixie completes my tour of the major grocery stores around here, I think. I still have one more small one to visit.

Perhaps delicious beans and Brussels tonight.

Going Places

Most of my adventures don't seem to me much worth the telling, so pardon the spare account--also I've been walking around all day (as you will soon learn!), and I don't have too much energy for this.

First I hit Tulane on business. I had to find my mailbox and its contents. That easily done, I toured the campus more thoroughly than I did the first time. It's a very nice campus, complete with quadrangles and sculptures and student centers and all the rest (of the things I did not have at Roosevelt). There are not many students about, but that makes me wonder more about the few that are.

Then I took the streetcar toward downtown and the French Quarter, with my sights set on a place called The Museum of the American Cocktail. It took awhile, though, because a streetcar broke down right in front of ours, so after a powwow of drivers and badges, they threw it in reverse and took us down the other track to pass the stalled car. Despite the delay, there was little impatience on display from the other passengers.

I found the museum, which is inside another museum (the Southern Food museum) in the corner of a mall. I learned some things. Did you know that the type of cocktail ingredient known as "bitters" was originally any flavored prescription syrup? Well, it's true.

From the Riverside Mall, I began to skirt around the French Quarter, to get some sense of its size and what becomes of it. I did that for awhile, and by then I was very hungry, so I found some jambalaya and ate it. I still haven't seen the Quarter on a weekend night, which I assume is its peak business time.

I also purchased an antenna for my TV, so you'll soon hear about the local programming.

That was mostly my day: Lots of walking, not enough eating. I'm going to rectify that now.

Guide to Worrying

If anyone on the other end wants to worry about the possibility of hurricanes, or the possibility that I'll be caught in the rain again, this website is all you need.

A Bad Cloud

I went to find the post office today, and found it after a brief misdirection. On my way home, however, the rain started. It has rained everday so far, always rather suddenly, violently, and briefly. So it came again today. It started thundering when I neared the post office, but it rumbled for awhile without result, so I kept walking. The other day, I heard a pure thunderstorm pass, which never rained yet made a terrific racket--thence I drew my confidence.
But it caught me about four blocks from home, and rained like it meant it. I found an awning and stood under it, still pretty dry, and from there I watched the storm for a half-hour or so. After awhile, I went round the side of the bulding to see what it was I was in front of, and got wet in the process, and turned around quickly, returning to my awning. After the rain let up a little, I went round again and in. The place was called Cannon's, and it was good. I had a shrimp remoulade ("rOmoulade") and fried green tomatoes.
Then I went home, I guess. More adventures to come!

They been askin', they been searchin', they been wonderin'

Well, here I am. The roadtrip/vacation finished on Friday when we drove our humble van back to its home in Elmhurst. The driving that day was the wildest of the whole trip, due to inclement weather, but since I had been handling the vehicle all week, a little rain proved no obstacle. I stayed the night in the city, then flew back to NOLA on Saturday, and here I am.
At first, I was very sad and tired. But I found the strength last night and this morning to unpack and set up almost all of my belongings, so being in a functioning room, and not merely a storage locker, helps me feel like maybe I'm supposed to be here. And it's a nice room, really. It's big. It's got my stuff in it. It has melon walls. It has an air conditioner (an absolute necessity, as it turns out), that I can turn on and off with a pliers. It has a window that looks into a very large yard with three very large trees.
And it's got me in it.
I guess I'm still sad, though.

More later.

(Exit) 2B, or not 2B?

We got lost. The one time we got lost was entirely not our fault. Dueling directions from Google Maps and Mapquest pointed us no way through a spaghetti-bowl of highways in Mississippi, and we wound up following a road that we shouldn't have. After several miles of doubt, we decided to take the next exit to find a map or directions. Thus we stumbled into Edwards, MS. Thinking clearly and logically, we sought Main Street, only to find maybe ten buildings, seven of which were boarded up.
There isn't much to say about a place that doesn't exist. And we didn't take any pictures.
Later, we ate at IHOP instead of Waffle House. WH is a southern chain with more locations than McDonalds, but we never went there.

A Big, Easy Day

Waking up in NOLA was great! After a leisurely morning, we walked to Tulane from the apartment. We found a little crepe place RIGHT by Newcomb Hall, where the Philosophy Department lives. (Melisa: Strawberry Shortcake crepe; Alex: Funky French Monkey crepe. Delicious.) Then we took the St. Charles street car line to its termination in the French Quarter, and wandered around. Three beignets and a few drinks later, we had more food (can you tell what we like to do?), namely fried oysters and a grilled shrimp po' boy (there are pictures of this). We heard some street music on our way back to the street car, which was amazing and, I suppose, a regular thing around there.
And just after moving the last stray items out of the cargo van, the skies opened up and rained down a beautiful thunderstorm. Timing: Perfect.

Joining the Country

The highlight of Tuesday--of the whole trip, really--was our lunch stop at the Country Junction Truck Stop in Wesson, Mississippi. It was a simple gas stop, but while Alex pumped, Melisa discovered the restaurant inside. The building was deceptively small, like Mary Poppins' bag--the store opened onto a restaurant with plentiful tables, a counter, and a full buffet, which in turn opened onto a dimly lit billiard room. How could we resist?
The food, on the other hand, was what you might expect from a place called "Country Junction" in Wesson, MS. Alex had chicken-fried steak for the first and last time (it tasted like...meat?), and Melisa had chicken tenders, which came fried with a half-inch layer of fried around the chicken. Yikes. Trying to make the best of the country, Alex ordered pie, but it was disappointingly store-bought and made with pudding.
We had to go to the bathroom about ten minutes later.
Country Junction Unltd. also featured a Country Junction motel, romantically set off about thirty feet from the gas station. It had all of three rooms, available for $49.99 per night. We certainly had our reservations about the place, but fortunately we had already made other reservations.

We eventually arrived in NOLA, moved Alex's stuff in, and ate burgers with new roomie Shawn on the back deck. It's hot there. Real talk.

Apologia (from the Greek)

So here's what happened: We were gonna blog. We really were. But in NOLA, Alex was unsuccessful in his attempts to connect his laptop to the internet, so all blogging was foiled for two days. Then, in Cape Girardeau, Mizzo, we arrived quite late and only had time for our complimentary cocktails.
What follows (above) is a recap, as best as we can remember, of our easy, breezy, beautiful roadtrip.

August 3, 1492

MEMPHIS, TENN: It’s hot and muggy and I’m tired. I drove all day today from Chicago to this fair city, with my partner-in-navigation Melisa riding shotgun. We stopped in Salem, IL, for a sandwich lunch at a picnic table by the side of gas station. We also tried to stop in some town that didn’t exist, after following a sign which was blank except for two arrows pointing east.
We saw corn and soybeans. All day.
I am an excellent driver.
We saw the Mississippi River twice, once when passing from Illinois to Missouri, and then passing from Arkansas to Tennessee. We can see it from our hotel’s lobby.
When the (otherwise unstoppable) cargo van finally stopped, we had a chance to explore Memphis. Drunken goats, fried oysters, and “stranded” “war veterans” whose “wives” are “in the park” and who need money--that is what we found. It wasn’t all bad. It was all hot, though. The air is like steam.
We met a nice girl named Lauren who was working her first day at Silky O’Sullivan’s, who warned us that we should be aware when walking to our car (“people aren’t nice down here”). She talked me into a glass of whiskey, because she wanted to serve alcohol for the first time. Melisa was eaten by mosquitoes. They didn’t touch me, probably because I smell bad.
Probably.
Tomorrow we drive the rest of the way to New Orleans, and my new apartment in the Big Easy. But right now, Billie Holiday is crooning us to sleep.

Roadtrip to New Orleans

I'm going to New Orleans to seek my fortune. The lost dog is abroad again.