Day 11

We are camping at Fontainebleau State Park in Louisiana. We got to our campsite site around 6:30 last night. It was still light out. The sun had not yet set. By the time we finally got our tents set up, it was dark. It took us nearly two hours because Kati meticulously made sure every seam was aligned, very guyline was perfectly taut, and that the rain, if it rains, wouldn’t pool anywhere. Here’s hoping these tents hold up better than the previous one.

The campground is relatively empty. We got so accustomed to crowded campgrounds last year that all the empty sites at a campground so close to New Orleans surprises me. I am also surprised by how clean the bathrooms and showers—yes, we will be able to wash up—are. It might be because there are so few people here. Fewer people means less mess, less stink.

A couple a months ago, we learned that G3’s paternal roots are in Louisiana. His donor grew up not far from where we are staying. G3 is excited to be here knowing this is where his ancestors lived. He belongs in Louisiana in a way neither Kati nor I do. These are his people. And so far, the people we’ve encountered have been very friendly.

The mosquitoes were nasty last night. Hungry and relentless. We escaped into our tents early with flashlights and books to read. I slept well until thunder woke me up around 2:45. It was loud. The storm however never reached us. The rumbling remained in the distance. We got only a few hurried drops of rain. Not nearly enough to know if the new tents could survive a beating.

Fontainebleau State Park sits on Lake Pontchartrain. This morning, I woke up early and wandered down to the lake. Bodies of water make me happy. And it was quiet and peaceful bathed in the morning light. But based on how big this park is, how large the day area facilities, I imagine it gets crowded and miserable during the day, especially during weekends in the summer.

I took pictures then went on a short hike. I wanted to walk along the Alligator Marsh Trail in hopes of seeing an alligator, but the trail was blocked with overgrown flora and debris from fallen branches and trees. So I took the nature trail instead. I saw what appeared to be wild pigs and a snake. The snake slithered away too quickly for me to get a photo and the pigs were too deep in shadow.

When I was little—probably in elementary school—Dad went to New Orleans for a business trip. He brought me back a tee-shirt. That was the first time I heard of the French Quarter. In college, my senior year, G2 and I drove down together. That was more than 25 years ago. It is conceivable that my memory is really bad, but the French Quarter of my memory is not the same as the French Quarter we visited today. I am shocked to see how run down it is. Sure Hurricane Katrina wreaked havoc on the city 17 years ago, but I didn’t expect things to have changed that much.

We got in early since rain was in the forecast. I wanted to be able to explore a bit before we got wet. We walked down Bourbon Street and G3 had to visit every souvenir shop we past. Then we cut over to Jackson Square to see the Cathedral and the statue of Andrew Jackson. You can’t be in the French Quarter and not see the square. We popped into a tour place to inquire about a Mississippi River cruise. We were disappointed to discover there was only a morning one—too late to book that one—and a night cruise—we already have nighttime plans. Oh well.

I mentioned to the tour woman that I absolutely had to eat gumbo—I had never eaten it before—while in New Orleans. She got really excited—she enjoyed talking about food—and recommended Lil Dizzy’s Cafe. She said they made the best gumbo in town. It was a hike to get there. It was located on the outskirts of the tourist map. But it was worth the walk. It seemed to be a place that drew locals more than tourists. And the place was packed. I really liked the gumbo. G3 said he liked it too, but he picked out all the meat and fish. Kati said the fried chicken was the best she ever had.

A few days ago we were at the Hermitage. It seemed only fitting to drive over to the Chalmette Battlefield where Jackson fought the Battle of New Orleans. Without such a stunning victory, he probably wouldn’t have been president. The treaty of Ghent was negotiated in December 1814. The Battle of New Orleans was fought the following month. The park ranger said that if the British had managed to win the Battle, and had taken control of New Orleans and the Mississippi River, they probably would have demanded to renegotiate the treaty. Jackson ensured that the Mississippi remained in US hands. And the Mississippi was vital for commerce. Without complete control, we might not have been able to expand as effectively as we did. The US Senate ratified the Treaty a month after the Battle of New Orleans.

The defenders of New Orleans was one of the most diverse, if not the most diverse fighting force in American history. There were white militia men, Choctaws, and free black men in Jackson’s army. The pirate Jean Lafitte and his men aided Jackson and in return they received pardons for crimes they committed against America.

Jackson was outnumbered. There were 7000 British against 4000 Americans. Jackson had his men build a rampart. He extended it into the swamp, forcing a frontal assault. The Americans stood firm and fired heavily as the British attacked. British General Pakenham was killed. In total, Britain suffered 2000 casualties—dead, wounded, and POWs. Only 20 Americans were injured or killed.

Last year, we visited the headwaters of the Mississippi. It seemed appropriate, when planning this road trip, to head to New Orleans where the river ends. When G3 got here, he said, “It’s hard to believe that what we saw last year becomes this.”

Perhaps we got here too early. The French Quarter started to come to life in the mid-afternoon with music in the streets and tourists wandering around. It looks less bleak and run down on the surface. But the boarded up and abandoned buildings remain.

G3 has enjoyed visiting all the souvenir shops. He was completely enthralled with all of the masks. He even convinced me to buy him one. Actually, he found one he really like and I heard Dad whispering in my ear that I should buy it for him.

It was supposed to rain all day, but it only poured for about ten minutes when we were in a souvenir store. Thanks Dad for keeping us dry. Of course we also bought matching tee-shirts. What would a family vacation be without them.

There were no wineries. To compensate, I bought Kati a hurricane since she had to suffer through a battlefield. I got one for me too. You can’t be in New Orleans and not drink a hurricane.

You also can’t be in the birthplace of jazz and not got to Preservation Hall. I wanted G3 to have the full experience—again, Dad’s voice in my head—so we go tickets. I’m not sure if G3 enjoyed the show, but Kati and I did.

For dinner, we had poboys. I had Cajun shrimp. Kati and G3 had roast beef. I enjoyed my dinner immensely. I’m not sure they liked it as much.

At night, Bourbon Street gets completely transformed.The street shuts down to traffic and it becomes one big outdoor party. G3 was grumpy. He said he was too young to have fun. We should have brought him there when he was 21, not 12. I reminded him that I always did have issues transposing numbers.