Destination: New Orleans - 533 miles.
On the 19th, we exuberantly took off for New Orleans from Nashville. 533 miles total. First off, why are there are two Pulaski towns on the route between Nashville and New Orleans, one in Virginia along the Appalachian Mountains and another along Hwy 65 right before you cross the border into Mississippi?
Some off-the-cuff test-the-wind speculation from my traveling buds included: he may have been a rocket maker (since by the time we were talking about him we were crossing into Alabama and saw the first Alabama rest area where a rocket stands as a monument to Alabama's contribution to the space industry). Or, maybe he was a prominent farmer, since both towns appear to be situated in great growing fields. Or, maybe he was a distinguished volunteer since Tennessee is known as the "Volunteer State."
None of the above. The painstaking answer to our question: According to the Polish America Center
and the Polish American Journal, General Casimir
Pulaski was a Polish and American hero. He is known as the "Father of the American Cavlary."
Apparently, he was a leading Polish military commander for the Confederacy of
Bar formed to save Poland from Russian domination and is a celebrated freedom
fighter. Russian pressure led to
his forced exile. A few years later, he met Benjamin Franklin in Paris who was
looking for volunteers for the American Revolution. Franklin gave Pulaski a
letter of recommendation for General George Washington. After the uprising
failed, he emigrated to North America. He was endorsed by Benjamin
Franklin. During the American Revolutionary
War, he saved the life of George Washington and became a General of the
Continental Army. He reformed the American cavalry and died of battle wounds in
the Battle of Savannah. Numerous
places are named in his honor.
Right before we crossed the Alabama state line, we passed the Jack Daniel Distillery which you can find
driving away from Nashville on Interstate 65, and hey, notice the word passed. With an air of nonchalance, our cat Mel agreed, it was more fun to rub up against me and cuddle than stare out the window. I love it when he puts his chin on my leg.
Driving through Alabama, you'll see a few beautiful waterways.
It's really beautiful country. In a rampant display of foolishness bordering on negligent, and hidden behind excuses and reasons that we debated for several miles along Interstate 65, you'll see lots of dead dogs along the side of the road. Justin was the first one to bring it up, and you can tell it bothered him tremendously. Some states have put laws in place barring owners from keeping their loose dogs in the bed of pick up trucks and we didn't check Alabama's laws since we were technically on vacation. Completely irresponsible and cruel. I'd never put furry trusting Mel in the bed of a truck, although I might crack the window if he needed air or couldn't sit still. Mel wouldn't even sit back there for a second without letting me know he was terrified if the car moved even a few inches. I think animals even know how to keep themselves alive, unless their owners put them in harm's way.
After a few miles of shaking the images of dead dogs and asserting our complaints directed toward the indiscretions of the careless among us, we contemplated the lovely rows of trees. Unfortunately, there certainly is a lot of logging going on all along the 65 just past the first few layers of trees that beautify the drive. Another thing you notice while traveling along interstates on the road is a proliferation of Cracker Barrels. They are everywhere along the interstates! Glad we stopped to get a few groceries in Nashville on the way out. We found one of our favorite markets that sell healthy lunch and dinner options and could use the RV's kitchen.
Just past Tuscaloosa on Interstate 20 W, the interstate ran along the Black Warrior River some of the way. According to the conservation group American Rivers, the river, which twists through Alabama's coal country, in 2011 was placed on America's Most Endangered Rivers list and has endangered both Birmingham's and Tuscaloosa dependence on the river for clean drinking water. The river is named after Chief Tushkalusa, since in Choctaw "tushka" means "warrior" and "lusa" means "black."
We drove past Livingston, York, and Cuba then we crossed out of Alabama into eastern Mississippi, cutting south through Meridian onto Interstate 59 heading toward New Orleans. I think all we did in Mississippi that was noteworthy was notice that there was another town of Pulaski heading east toward Jackson on Interstate 20, but unfortunately, we were heading to New Orleans, so our tour of the Pulaski towns was coming to a halt. We had New Orleans on our minds. Well, and we started noticing the magnolias, which we saw a lot of in Louisiana.
We arrived in New Orleans after all three of us were completely awed driving over the I-10 Twin Span Bridge just past Slidell that spans both the Lake Pontchartrain and the lake that meets up with Chandeleur Sound off the Gulf of Mexico, Lake Borgne.
During our first experience in pulling into the KOA in New Orleans, we met a guy near midnight who wanted to help us find our spot at the RV park, voluntarily. The KOA attendant I spoke with on the phone never mentioned such personalized service, so I figured this guy walking his dog at midnight was overstating his responsibility in living there by helping us out and giving us a lot of safety advice. Did I tell you it was around midnight? Justin asked him if he worked there and he said, "Sort of." We sort of were ready to lose the guy. I suggested to Justin that we ask about him in the morning, but get this! He proceeded to hook up our electrical chord for our RV without asking us! He fell short of hooking up our grey and black water hose, and kept walking his dog. The next morning, Justin found out through a grand eye roll what the KOA attendants felt about our midnight personalized server, but from the looks of it, he was a helpful annoyance, not necessarily a menace.
The KOA shuttle heading to downtown was full, but we consider that the alternative proved to give us a better tour of New Orleans in any case. We caught the bus to make our connection to the St Charles streetcar. We absolutely loved looking at the French-inspired homes and riding the trolley.
Stepping off the St. Charles streetcar, our feet touched the ground on Canal Street. We walked laps around the French Quarter, starting on Bourbon Street, but at that time of day we mostly saw delivery trucks and boxes of booze being dropped off.
Quickly, we changed course and weaved our way down St. Peter after we found the infamous Preservation Hall and proceeded to walk down toward Decatur near Jackson Square to check out Frenchmen Street. The architecture captures the imagination and serves to awaken the senses for the romantic nature in all of us, not just to provide shelter for the practically minded.
I visited the French Quarter at the beginning of the millennium and stayed there for a week, so I was looking for significant changes that might have occurred after Katrina hit. Not too many signs if changes to the French Quarter at this point at least superficially and it's still in the same area of town.
We returned to the main area of the French Quarter so we could experience it into the evening, enjoying a beignet in Musical Legends Park. Marilyn danced to the jazz sounds of a local band that played a gorgeous version of several jazz classics, including one of my favorites, "Goodnight Irene."
We ended the night touring several bars off Bourbon to hear some great local jazz bands. There were several women soliciting us to watch a few burlesque shows and one that made quite an impression on us given that she was only wearing lavender lingerie that made me basically swear off lavender for at least a year and evoked in Justin and Marilyn as first time Bourbon Street tourists a hope for some better options up ahead and a better understanding of what Bourbon Street becomes after dark. We skipped the show and then ran right into a man trying to solicit us to watch a few male burlesque shows. We skipped those two, being equal opportunity skippers. Of course, to the girl who tried to give my husband a shot of some mix of booze by placing the bottom of the test tube it was served in in her mouth, we suggest mouthwash and possibly a chin tattoo just for starters. You never know who might be thirsty enough right?
We caught a taxi to return to the KOA later that night. The cab driver shared his Katrina story with me and how the recent Super Bowl helped rebuilding efforts for the area. His brother was one of victims who lost everything he had. His brother had been a storeowner at the time and didn't take any of the warnings from his family to evacuate and also ignored the warnings that came from the city. As a result, when Katrina hit, he stood on top of the roof of his small corner market and was evacuated by a helicopter after they spotted him waiving his shirt to desperately get their attention. His only employee died that day as did one of his closest friends. The cab driver had left the area heeding the warning. After two and a half years of dealing with the insurance company, his brother now has rebuilt his corner market business. Of course, he's scarred for life and never ignored evacuation warnings now that he was lucky to be alive after Katrina. The cab driver pointed out along the drive back to the KOA all the damaged areas and how many homeowners rebuilt their houses on cinderblocks. The area around the KOA in Jefferson Parish was hit really hard during Katrina and there was a lot more evidence of homes built on cinderblock.
During the last hurricane, Isaac, that hit the area, the cab driver and his brother found themselves among many in the area foraging for ice as a result of power outages and trying to find open grocery stores. When people do choose to evacuate, I asked him what that feels like, given that you're leaving your home behind and not sure what it will be like when you return. He said, it's very disturbing, because essentially you're running off to live in a hotel somewhere far from home without the creature comforts of what you feel in your own home and you can't be sure that everything you own will be there when you return. A lot of people pick up and leave for good or rebuild on higher ground or are forced to rebuild right where they were before the hurricane and the power outages and floods.
He dropped us off in Jefferson Parish and we found Mel in the RV luxuriating in a new spot that he reserved for naps. No longer having to live in the hotel in Maryland after our townhouse became uninhabitable, Mel's vacation of excellent food, excellent company and various window scenery is lifting both his and our spirits! Marilyn loves getting to know Mel again and he's back to letting me play with his squishy belly like he did before the accident. He was a little on edge at the hotel in Maryland, but not anymore.
Driving through Alabama, you'll see a few beautiful waterways.
It's really beautiful country. In a rampant display of foolishness bordering on negligent, and hidden behind excuses and reasons that we debated for several miles along Interstate 65, you'll see lots of dead dogs along the side of the road. Justin was the first one to bring it up, and you can tell it bothered him tremendously. Some states have put laws in place barring owners from keeping their loose dogs in the bed of pick up trucks and we didn't check Alabama's laws since we were technically on vacation. Completely irresponsible and cruel. I'd never put furry trusting Mel in the bed of a truck, although I might crack the window if he needed air or couldn't sit still. Mel wouldn't even sit back there for a second without letting me know he was terrified if the car moved even a few inches. I think animals even know how to keep themselves alive, unless their owners put them in harm's way.
Just past Tuscaloosa on Interstate 20 W, the interstate ran along the Black Warrior River some of the way. According to the conservation group American Rivers, the river, which twists through Alabama's coal country, in 2011 was placed on America's Most Endangered Rivers list and has endangered both Birmingham's and Tuscaloosa dependence on the river for clean drinking water. The river is named after Chief Tushkalusa, since in Choctaw "tushka" means "warrior" and "lusa" means "black."
We drove past Livingston, York, and Cuba then we crossed out of Alabama into eastern Mississippi, cutting south through Meridian onto Interstate 59 heading toward New Orleans. I think all we did in Mississippi that was noteworthy was notice that there was another town of Pulaski heading east toward Jackson on Interstate 20, but unfortunately, we were heading to New Orleans, so our tour of the Pulaski towns was coming to a halt. We had New Orleans on our minds. Well, and we started noticing the magnolias, which we saw a lot of in Louisiana.
We arrived in New Orleans after all three of us were completely awed driving over the I-10 Twin Span Bridge just past Slidell that spans both the Lake Pontchartrain and the lake that meets up with Chandeleur Sound off the Gulf of Mexico, Lake Borgne.
During our first experience in pulling into the KOA in New Orleans, we met a guy near midnight who wanted to help us find our spot at the RV park, voluntarily. The KOA attendant I spoke with on the phone never mentioned such personalized service, so I figured this guy walking his dog at midnight was overstating his responsibility in living there by helping us out and giving us a lot of safety advice. Did I tell you it was around midnight? Justin asked him if he worked there and he said, "Sort of." We sort of were ready to lose the guy. I suggested to Justin that we ask about him in the morning, but get this! He proceeded to hook up our electrical chord for our RV without asking us! He fell short of hooking up our grey and black water hose, and kept walking his dog. The next morning, Justin found out through a grand eye roll what the KOA attendants felt about our midnight personalized server, but from the looks of it, he was a helpful annoyance, not necessarily a menace.
The KOA shuttle heading to downtown was full, but we consider that the alternative proved to give us a better tour of New Orleans in any case. We caught the bus to make our connection to the St Charles streetcar. We absolutely loved looking at the French-inspired homes and riding the trolley.
Quickly, we changed course and weaved our way down St. Peter after we found the infamous Preservation Hall and proceeded to walk down toward Decatur near Jackson Square to check out Frenchmen Street. The architecture captures the imagination and serves to awaken the senses for the romantic nature in all of us, not just to provide shelter for the practically minded.
 |
| Preservation Hall |
 |
| Preservation Hall |
I visited the French Quarter at the beginning of the millennium and stayed there for a week, so I was looking for significant changes that might have occurred after Katrina hit. Not too many signs if changes to the French Quarter at this point at least superficially and it's still in the same area of town.
On Frenchman Street, which is a beautiful street, Marilyn and I were captivated by a closed cafe.
By then, our stomachs growled and so we ate lunch at Saints and Sinners on Bourbon Street. It's the first time I tried Cajun Gator Sausage Po Boy. It was delicious. Justin and Marilyn tried the gumbo, jambalaya and shrimp pies. We had front row seats of Bourbon before the night crawlers turned streets of gorgeous architecture simply into a backdrop for intersecting songs that emerged from bars.
Then, we were off to check out the mighty Mississippi River. We were stunned by its beauty. Marilyn in particular, couldn't get enough and ran back and forth along its shoreline embracing its magnitude. We had our cell phone to make sure every time she ran off!
I became captivated by the Monument to the Immigrant right along the Mississippi River's shoreline especially given today's heated debates in the US that are filled with such polarized views of immigrants. I celebrate immigrants and this monument helped provide me a place to celebrate our immigrant personal background and the achievements of those immigrants who also face difficult decision and the hope for better lives where ever that may be. 
  |
| We're all from brave immigrants who escaped tyranny |
We ended the night touring several bars off Bourbon to hear some great local jazz bands. There were several women soliciting us to watch a few burlesque shows and one that made quite an impression on us given that she was only wearing lavender lingerie that made me basically swear off lavender for at least a year and evoked in Justin and Marilyn as first time Bourbon Street tourists a hope for some better options up ahead and a better understanding of what Bourbon Street becomes after dark. We skipped the show and then ran right into a man trying to solicit us to watch a few male burlesque shows. We skipped those two, being equal opportunity skippers. Of course, to the girl who tried to give my husband a shot of some mix of booze by placing the bottom of the test tube it was served in in her mouth, we suggest mouthwash and possibly a chin tattoo just for starters. You never know who might be thirsty enough right?
We caught a taxi to return to the KOA later that night. The cab driver shared his Katrina story with me and how the recent Super Bowl helped rebuilding efforts for the area. His brother was one of victims who lost everything he had. His brother had been a storeowner at the time and didn't take any of the warnings from his family to evacuate and also ignored the warnings that came from the city. As a result, when Katrina hit, he stood on top of the roof of his small corner market and was evacuated by a helicopter after they spotted him waiving his shirt to desperately get their attention. His only employee died that day as did one of his closest friends. The cab driver had left the area heeding the warning. After two and a half years of dealing with the insurance company, his brother now has rebuilt his corner market business. Of course, he's scarred for life and never ignored evacuation warnings now that he was lucky to be alive after Katrina. The cab driver pointed out along the drive back to the KOA all the damaged areas and how many homeowners rebuilt their houses on cinderblocks. The area around the KOA in Jefferson Parish was hit really hard during Katrina and there was a lot more evidence of homes built on cinderblock.
During the last hurricane, Isaac, that hit the area, the cab driver and his brother found themselves among many in the area foraging for ice as a result of power outages and trying to find open grocery stores. When people do choose to evacuate, I asked him what that feels like, given that you're leaving your home behind and not sure what it will be like when you return. He said, it's very disturbing, because essentially you're running off to live in a hotel somewhere far from home without the creature comforts of what you feel in your own home and you can't be sure that everything you own will be there when you return. A lot of people pick up and leave for good or rebuild on higher ground or are forced to rebuild right where they were before the hurricane and the power outages and floods.
He dropped us off in Jefferson Parish and we found Mel in the RV luxuriating in a new spot that he reserved for naps. No longer having to live in the hotel in Maryland after our townhouse became uninhabitable, Mel's vacation of excellent food, excellent company and various window scenery is lifting both his and our spirits! Marilyn loves getting to know Mel again and he's back to letting me play with his squishy belly like he did before the accident. He was a little on edge at the hotel in Maryland, but not anymore.
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