After a busy day downtown the day before, it was time for some rest around the campground.
Because of the bus I’ve had many, many conversations with other RVers. Which down here in Louisiana is more fun for me than most other times simply because of the accents. Especially the folks from the country. I talked to one guy who used the word hollow (sounded like holler) to describe his home. “My boy had a friend in the Navy from Minnesota who came and stayed at our holler.” I got the impression he didn’t think much of that friend.
I had another chat with a young guy walking down the road with his fishing pole slung over his shoulder. It had to be the most low-key, drawn out, relaxed conversation I’ve ever had—about catfish, bass, and whether the warden would come ’round and hassle him. I couldn’t picture this kid ever getting past a mailroom job in Chicago, but down here in the bayou I doubt he would ever give a Kardashian shit about that. I liked that kid.
When we first bumped into each other he said, “I like that rig of yours there. What you call that? A mobile home, motor coach?”
I told him I just called it a bus.
He nodded slowly, chewed on it for a minute, and said, “That right there is about all a man needs.” The sentence hung there, but it sounded as if the “aint it?” was silent.
“That’s about all,” I answered.
The kids eat about ten dollars worth of fruit each day. Black, blue, and raspberries are particular favorites. As are melons and apples. Of course they can’t be huge fans of something nice and cheap like a banana.
We are so happy with the way these two have been playing together. I think the RV life is going to really make them close. We can see it already. Of course at least once a day we hear Ouest yelling, “I’m never going to play with Lowe again. Never! Never!” Ten minutes later we hear, “Come on Lowe. Come on, look at this.”
The biggest blessing of this lifestyle so far though has to be Lowe’s sleeping habits. He’s asleep within minutes of finishing up story time, and usually with only one or two minor wakings during the night, he sleeps until an hour, which only a month ago would have seemed unbelievable to us. He even sleeps later than Ouest sometimes, and that girl can sleep. It’s nice to have a little sanity returning to our mornings.
Today we made another run into New Orleans. This time we parked in Algiers and took the ferry across the river. That worked out much better than the city bus system. We were there early enough that we could still walk comfortably down the middle of Bourbon Street. There a guy stood out on his balcony and threw stuffed animals down to passing children (which sounds vaguely molester-ish, but wasn’t, really). Nice enough gesture, but what he failed to understand was that all the parents of those children would then spend the entire day carting around those stuffed animals.
We did a bit of everything the next few hours. We had snowballs again, shopped for souveniers, took a bike taxi, had elaborate balloon toys made, listened to music, rode the trolleys, ate po’boys at Mother’s, hot dogs on the curb, and I forget what else. But we were beat. It feels like we busted our butts to see a bit of New Orleans and still didn’t even scratch the surface. We didn’t even dent the French Quarter, and that’s just one neighborhood.
And here, for no particular reason, are some pictures of the kids’ room. That’s Lowe’s bed up top, Ouest on the bottom. We have dark window coverings that we snap on at night and leave off during the day. So far Lowe spends more time back there playing than Ouest does—she tends to spend most of her time at the table—but really, unless it is early morning or we are on the road, they are outside. And yes, it irks me that there is still trim work to be done, but unless we bunk up somewhere like Grammy’s house for a couple of weeks, I can’t imagine us getting those sorts of projects done.