Katrina, Rainy New Orleans and wild Cajun country!

We were curious to see for ourselves the damage of Hurricane Katrina. Like you all, we had seen the damage on TV and in news magazines, but we wanted to see for ourselves what the Gulf Coast looked like now, twenty-six months after Katrina. We drove the Gulf coast from Florida through Mississippi to New Orleans. In spite of all the CNN coverage, in spite of all the news stories and updates, beyond the follow-up reports, we had no comprehension of the vastness of the devastation of Katrina. For miles and miles, from Biloxi to New Orleans, the Antebellum mansions that had stood along the Mississippi coast were completely gone, leaving only foundations. And it reached back from the beaches to three and four blocks deep. Now and then, on one block there is reconstruction of another large home, but for blocks and blocks there is still nothing but razed ground and hints of foundations or parts of sidewalks.

An amazing thing is the resilience of the oak trees. There they stand, where there is nothing else. What hardy trees! But some of the four story buildings along the beach had the first two stories wiped out, the rest standing on the stilts of the superstructure. The new casinos and condos were the new expression of the coast; the rest was empty, desolate, one slab or ground level masonry after another. And the Oaks.

All we have heard and all we have read about New Orleans was even more dramatically presented to the anguished eye. We arrived on a rainy day.

First , we went to the French Quarter, the highest section of the city. Not much damage there other then wind. We put on our rain jackets and went on the look out for a place to have lunch. What a lovely quarter! Just as one might imagine, wrought iron balconies, restaurants, jazz clubs and art galleries. Our #1 French restaurant spot, recommended by neighbor Pat Johnson, required better dress than we were attired in, so we found another spot, The Fish House. We had a great lunch there and then, with umbrella unfurled, found the car and drove to the ninth ward.

This is where the greatest destruction from the breaching of the dikes happened. You can not imagine this place. It looks as though all is well until you take a better look. The blocks of homes, not unlike Boise's north end, are all abandoned. Now and then yous see a house under reconstruction, maybe one per block, but the majority are boarded up or gutted, with no repair in sight. You wonder about this apparent lottery. You wonder about these people. Where have they gone? What would I do if I had to evacuate? Do I have insurance to cover a disaster such as this? This could be me.

It was time to find an RV park for the night. Again we look to AAA. It listed an "in city" park. That sounds good. Ah..the traffic. A bridge is closed and we are stuck in a mass of traffic. Ask Jill, our GPS guide! After a long time, we find our way to the suggested RV park. Humm... This looks...well, it is a FEMA park. We are the only van among a lot of white FEMA modular trailers. The women's bathroom is not working and WIFI is another $15.00 per month, clearly operating on the assumption of the new long-term residents, displaced by the hurricane. Everyone greets us or waves. The women's restroom/shower is closed so Jon watches the men's room so Pat can get a shower in the morning. And it was fairly grody.

We made a mistake here in New Orleans. When in a city where we would like to spend the evening, we should know to find a hotel or B&B. It is not a fault of New Orleans, just the weather and our choice of accommodations... We must come back here!

Chris and Dan gave us recommendations of where to go in Cajun country. We first stopped at Jean Paul for a Cajun lunch: catfish, crab cakes, eggplant and tomato casserole.Yum! Next we found a nice RV park near Eunice, La. This was a family park getting all geared up for a big Halloween celebration on Saturday night. There were kids everywhere and families having a great time and lots of music and fun.

We went to D.I.s Cajun Restaurant for dinner on the recommendation of our RV hosts. Sure enough, it was a real Cajun spot. We're beginning to think Cajun means fried, with pepper rubs. We ordered dinner and listened to the music and watched the one loving eighty-something couple on the dance floor. Song after song, this couple danced. Pat caught her eye and expressed her appreciation of their dancing style. She came over to our

table and encouraged us to join them. Well, what could we do! We danced the two step and the waltz, stepping and twirling as we went .

Next came a fun conversation and the insistence by Nonni and Calvin that we join them the next morning, Saturday, at Fred's, a famous place in Moumo, regarded as the keeper of the Cajun music style, a real Cajun Capitol. They informed us that we must be there by 8:00AM to get a seat, as this is a happ'nen place. Okay, we are out here for the adventures, so why not!

So Saturday morning, at 8:00 we arrive at Fred's. There are dozens of Harley's lined up on the street in front of the bar and the door is painted black and the sign says, "The Heart Of Cajun Music." We gather our courage, and in we go. Well, here we are, on a Saturday morning, with the bikers, and Nonie and Calvin, who have saved us two seats at the bar. This is a far cry from Saturday morning Yoga at the Y in Boise! Unlike most, who are throwing down beer and shots, Pat orders a cup of coffee, Jon a glass of tomato juice. Nonie and Calvin share their Boudin, a Louisiana styled hand-made sausage, and some cracklins--fried pork rinds-- and we talk and wait for the music to start.

It is 9:00 AM and the band strikes up: Accordian, guitars, harmonica and drums, broadcasting live on the local radio station. Terrific music and the dancing begins! Noni and Calvin, whose business card reads "Cajun Dancers", are the first on the half-circle floor. Soon we all join and the small dance floor gets crowded. We danced and danced, all on a Saturday morning! Tante Sue, the owner and widow of Fred, entertained us with her antics, which included belting up her pistol holster and then loading it with a bottle of her peach schnapps.

Saturday morning venue is the only time this place is open -- from 7:30 to 1:00! Bikers drop in, and mature Cajun dancing couples crowd the tiny bar. The dancing moves like a grand promenade, moving from one end of the room to the other, in one circuitous pattern.

The "Jack D" and lite beers are downed, and one guy at the end of the bar, when offered food, says it's too early to eat, but just right for drinkin'. Other unlikely couples drop in to dance, mostly the over fifty crowd.

This was an experience of a lifetime! What fun we had, loving this toe-tapping music and happy dancing. Calvin, a person of some standing in the area, sees to it that we recieved the prize for being from the furthest away, all on live radio! We are awarded with a three-bottle set of Cajun spices, sauce and rubs. About 11:00 we emerged from the bar and found it difficult to adjust our eyes to the bright, shinning day light. We talk with the bikers about travels and music and connections. This is Cajun country! Hot and spicy!