Day 12

Last night, I was reading in the tent when I noticed the material above me was moving. There wasn’t a lick of breeze—it was hot and humid and gross—so I sat up to see what was going on. I noticed tiny legs walking over the mesh and when I looked closer, I saw that they belonged to a small frog.

I had a dream about Dad last night. We—G3 and I—were in what seemed like a hostel. But it was a school day and G3 was running late. I asked him why he hadn’t left yet and he said he was waiting for Grandpa to drive him. I went upstairs to see where he was. When I got to the top step, I was in my parents’ house. Dad was still sleeping. I woke him up and told him G3 was waiting for him. He said he’d be ready in a minute. And then I woke up.

It was not yet 6. But I got up anyway and went for a walk. When I dream about Dad I can never fall back to sleep. It’s better to just get up and do something, otherwise I just feel sad. The lake was rough this morning and the sky pink. But being by the water just made me think of Dad even more.

We took a swamp tour this morning. We are in Louisiana, it only seemed right that we see the bayou. Plus, G3 really wanted to do the tour. I liked our guide. He reminded me of one of my cousins. The guide grew up on the water and his love of the bayou was evident in every story he told.

To lure the alligators, he tossed marshmallows into the water. Alligators can distinguish white—most of what they eat is white—they can also hear/sense the marshmallow hit the water.

Only male alligators grow to be nine and a half feet or longer. Female alligators grow wider and the wider they grow the more eggs they lay. They can lay between 20 and 40 eggs. Lately, people have to rob the nests every year. If the temperature gets too hot, the embryos will die. With global warming, if the nests aren’t robbed, enough embryos might not survive. The stolen embryos are hatched in a controlled environment and the alligators are eventually released back into the bayou.

Last year, hurricane Ida caused more damage to the bayou than Hurricane Katrina nearly two decades ago. It tore through the swamp reducing many trees to debris. The guide refers to one tree as the Houdini tree. Before Ida, it wasn’t there. Now it is. It’s like the storm pulled it from its roots and it replanted itself.

Even worse, during the storm salt water pushed into the bayou displacing fresh water. The salt killed fish and trees. The fish more accustomed to brackish water were able to survive. Alligators are proving to be adaptable. They once only lived in fresh water, but they are learning to live in salt water. That is not good. We don’t need alligators migrating into our salty bodies of water.

Ida completely changed the landscape of the bayou. What was once land is now water. What was once water is now land. The guide told us to pull up google maps. On it, it looked as if we were sitting on dry land and we most certainly weren’t. The satellite view, however, has been updated to reflect the changed landscape.

While we took the tour to see alligators, I found the ecology information far more interesting. We are damaging the planet, and today we got to sample a bit of the evidence.

It poured heavily just before our tour. But the clouds shifted by the time we had to board the boat. Still, the sky looked ominous in the distance so we kept our ponchos and rain jacket. On the boat we had intermittent rain but nothing too heavy. The rain was good. It kept us from roasting in the sun.

We ate Kentucky Fried Chicken in Kentucky, therefore, G3 argued we needed to eat at Popeyes in Louisiana. I couldn’t argue with his logic. Besides, Dad loved Popeyes. He would have been mad at me if I said no.

Oak Alley Plantation is on that list of most beautiful places in America that Kati came across as I was planning our trip. It is listed as being the Most Beautiful Historic House in the county. It was Kati’s request that we visit it. Yes, you read that correctly. Kati chose a historic place to see on our trip. Unfortunately, it rained for the duration of our visit. It’s the most beautiful historic home and we got to take pictures of it through sheets of rain. The most scenic part of the house were the oak trees out front. They lined both sides of the walkway, arching over it. And the trees were massive—gorgeous. Even the roots poking out of the grass were picturesque. They looked like islands in a sea of grass.

So many tourists visit a day that the house tours run on a tight schedule. The guides get you in and push you out quickly. Their spiel is so well scripted that even though our guide said she would answer questions, it was apparent she really did not want to. Each question I asked, she answered with as few words as possible, and then she quickly segued into another part of her speech before I could ask a follow-up question. After the tour, Kati commented, “The guide seemed like she wanted to have a personality but just couldn’t find it.”

The house was built by enslaved people owned by Roman family in the 1830’s. The fact that the house is still standing and in such good condition is a testament to how skilled they were. The mansion sits on the Mississippi and the surrounding fields were used to grow sugarcane. Sugarcane plantations were the worst. They had the highest mortality rates. There was a reason slaves dreaded being sold down River.

Oak Alley did not function as a Plantation for long. Following the Civil War, the slaves were emancipated. It could no longer produce sugar and rum. The Roman family picked up and moved to New Orleans.

We went back to the French Quarter. It’s Friday night, perfect for partying on Bourbon Street. Mom told me that she and Dad enjoyed eating beignets—fried dough—when they were here. Of course, we had to try them. G3 and Kati liked them. I found them to be too heavy.

We couldn’t go into any bars—G3 is only 12. But we could walk down Bourbon Street and listen to live music outside the bars. Nothing, and I mean nothing, will embarrass a child more than his moms singing along to songs they like and dancing in the street. G3 was mortified. But oh what an experience it was for him. And never, in my life, have I ever smelled so much marijuana. It seemed everyone was smoking.

And the church group standing in the middle of the rowdy crowd trying to save people from hellfire made me chuckle. Poor souls. There is no way they could compete with alcohol and music. I think they missed that chapter where Jesus turned the water into wine.