Fort Worth, TX

Today I dropped Jenny off at Louis Armstrong International Airport and headed through the rest of Louisiana en route to Fort Worth, TX. I found it amusing that driving north through Louisiana there are billboards for Emergency Rooms at a Hospital nearby, I hardly think that you need to advertise for an ER. It isn’t like someone decides “Oh, look, honey, there is an Emergency Room in 4.3 miles, feel like stopping and having an aneurism so we can go visit?!” As if an emergency room is a tourist destination.

I crossed over the Mississippi, on a bridge very similar to the Tappan Zee.

I arrived in Fort Worth around 4:30 and went out for some delicious Tex-Mex at a restaurant that makes fresh flour tortillas. I don't remember the name of the place...

Fort Worth is the 27th largest city in the US. It was established in 1849 as a protective Army outpost situated on a bluff overlooking the Trinity River, the city of Fort Worth today still embraces its western heritage and traditional architecture and design. The highrise buildings are all outlined with white lights and when lit at night are striking painted against the dark Texas sky.


Tiina and I visited the Fort Worth Stockyards on Thursday, very touristy thing to do. They parade the cattle through the streets very regularly and there are stores that sell various tokens that say "don't mess with Texas" and the Confederate Flag symbol.

I got in some good "bad influence" shopping with Tiina, which i hadn't done in a few years since we were in Fort Collins together. If you ever find yourself in Fort Worth and want to blow some money, go to the Jean Guru and the Shoe Gypsy on Park Hill Drive. I got these fancy shoes, which I love! I did not purchase any Hudson Jeans, being financially well behaved is a lot less fun. We chatted about how we have both felt the frustrations of the post graduate identity crisis and where we want to go with our lives now that we have finished design school.

On Thursday night we went to Pete's Dueling Piano Bar, which was very vulgar, just my style.

I bid my farewells on Friday morning to head to Marfa, TX to see the Madrid Family. Please check back, I am being sort of vague because I am mostly trying to catch up from the stuff I have done the past week. I will be adding and editing a lot of this stuff soon.

water always wins.

Imagine you are struggling to get by (easy enough, most of us are). A class 5 hurricane is heading to your region and you are ushered to evacuate the city, neighborhood, and community you live. Not only are you evacuating, but so is the entire city. It is said to be the worst storm to hit in centuries. You pile your immediate posessions in what vehicle you have and start to leave your city, unsure of the next time you will be back. You are then immersed in a traffic jam that lasts for 8 hours only moving one mile. The storm begins. Thrashing your car, your family, and the life you knew.

You finally make it to a hotel outside of town for the night. Only hours in the roof of the hotel is ripped off by gale storm winds. You have no electricity, no water, and now no shelter to keep you dry. You can't go home. You can't leave. The roads are flooded. After making it through the worst night, you learn that your home is submersed in 20 feet of water. You are told to find a place to stay, still not knowing when you might be able to go "home."

You stay away from home for 5-8 months, the water doesn't drain from your neighborhood for a whole month. You stay in a bunk house that is 500 sq. ft. shared with 12 others who have been evacuated, with little privacy to call your own.

You return to a deserted neighborhood. Your windows have been broken in from wind. Your house is no longer sitting on its' foundation. Your car has washed away. What belongings and valuables left behind are either washed away by water or looted and anything of sentiment or value has been stolen. There is 6 inches of dirt blanketing the floor you once had carpeting on. There is a large X spray painted on the front of your house.

FEMA has decided the state of your home, the date determined, and whether any bodies have been found.

You contact FEMA for assistance. You are informed that it will take as long as two months to get shelter. As soon as FEMA delivers your temporary trailer you are told that you can't habitate until they "check you in." This takes as long as a month. They slap your wrists for moving what you have left into the trailer you will be calling home on your front lawn for an undetermined amount of time. In Charlene's case, this was 2.5 years with 5 other people.

You are finally given insurance money, but your jobs have all been long lost. You need to survive on the money given to you by the insurance company. If you are lucky, Habitat for Humanity or another charitable foundation helps you build a new home.

Unfortunately, only a fraction of the residents of the Ninth Ward of New Orleans and other surrounding areas have even returned to their neighborhoods. Only a fraction have been lucky enough to get the insurance money, the adequate help from FEMA, and assistance from Habitat for Humanity. I was very grateful to have heard a first hand account of one woman's story of tragedy and loss in New Orleans during the past 5 years. When you drive around the Ninth Ward, and other areas such as Saint Bernard Parish, you are struck by how the area looks like the storm only happened a month ago.

Part B New Orleans

Today we went to breakfast at Cafe Du Monde. This place is in the French Market and is famous for its' beignets and coffee with chicory. It is also very inexpensive and quick if you are looking for a famous eatery that wont make you wait ages.


We then ate some Gumbo, but before we got our Alligator Sausage Appetizer, a huge rat ran behind my head, and then back by my feet. Oh well, it happens, so we stayed and ate there anyway. But I wont lie, I was a little worried that maybe they put rat in the gumbo to thicken up the meat.

Next we took the Saint Charles Streetcar to the Garden District to walk around. The Garden District, historically, was subdivided into parcels and sold to the wealthy who did not want to live in the French Quarter with the Creoles.



And Magazine St. has some cute shops.


We were so tired after all the walking around that we went back to the hotel and took a nap. Later that night we went to Acme Oyster house for some delicious seafood and to watch the Superbowl. Acme is a favorite oyster-house of many friends, so we decided to try it out. I have only eaten raw oysters once before, and Jen hadn't ever. They're all right, but I kind of think they are as good as what you put on them. Maybe it is an acquired taste.

Part A New Orleans

Saturday, January 31, 2009
Arriving in New Orleans took longer than expected, but was well worth it. We drove over the I-10 Bridge, which I believe is a temporary bridge as the other one was washed out during Hurricane Katrina. It is an amazing feat that bridges can span that distance over Lake Pontchartain. Construction was under way for a new bridge.

After checking into the hotel room at the Royal Saint Charles, which is a block behind Canal St. on the opposite side of the French Quarter, we cleaned up and decided to head over the the French Quarter to check out some of the places that my Uncle Ben told me to visit. We wandered around, took some photos and watched some street performers. Pirate's Alley seemed like a place of interest, being that I love Pirates, Pirate jokes, and drinking Sailor Jerry and acting like a pirate. Some claim that Pirate's Alley was a place where wild shenanigans of yore took place, or that slaves were sold in the Saint Anthony's gardens adjacent to it, none of which are confirmed to be true, yet still a fascinating legend.



Since it is legal to walk (or stumble if you will) the streets of New Orleans with open containers of alcohol, we grabbed an Abita Ale to accompany us on a little touristy walk of the French Quarter. We then headed toward Bourbon St. On a Saturday afternoon in February, with the hint of upcoming Mardi Gras in the air, the French Quarter is a very happening place. Music fills the air from the myriad jazz clubs and bars lining the street.


We found one with a local Jazz band playing and ambled in. The Krazy Korner is on the corner of Bourbon and St. Peter Street. It had a wild band playing with a metal washboard and an accordian. We stayed a while, and continued to drink Abita until I started making friends with the bartender

and Jen was making friends with the band members.

We wandered back to the hotel in the evening, back up Bourbon Street, past the brothels and strip clubs toward Canal Street. I already knew I thought New Orleans was "bomb."

Artsy Fartsy New Orleans

Montgomery, Alabama

Leaving Charleston we didn't really anticipate that the drive would SUCK. Approximately 12 hours of driving on only a glimpse of sleep is not a good idea. We ended up stopping in Montgomery, Alabama for the night. We both needed a good night of sleep.

This leg of the journey is pretty bland. There wasn't much noteworthy, so I will be brief and get to the goods of New Orleans.

Y'all Come Back Now

Thursday, January 29, 2009
We arrived in Charleston, SC in the late afternoon. I planned to visit my friend Isaiah, a guy that lived with my family for one summer while doing an internship at Benson's. He easily became one of my best friends and I have shared a lot of laughs and good stories with him, and I knew that this visit wouldn't pass without a good time. We drove straight to his house, which according to him "looks like it is in the ghetto." and it did, I promptly locked the doors and turned the hip-hop down. His house, however was really quite nice, although we weren't staying the night there.

We didn't have a lot of time to get to walk around Charleston, but we did do a ten cent tour of the place. As you will soon learn, I am slightly obsessed with bridges, and I am especially obsessed with cable stayed bridges, I find them somewhat fascinating in design and equally in engineering. They usually consist of two large pylons with cables running from their sides to support the deck of the bridge. The cable stayed bridge in Charleston, which recently replaced a very sketchy older bridge in 2005, also happens to be the longest in the US. It connects Charleston to Mount Pleasant over the Charleston Harbor.




Still trying to kill some time before we headed over to Kyle's house, another former Bensonwood intern who was housing Jen and I for the evening, we drove around King St. This area is pretty touristy with swanky shops flanking the streetscape. I was very surprised how narrow the street was, being a major thoroughfare in the city.



The sidestreets off of King St. have some of the most impressively large and elegant southern estates, most commonly with intricate wrought iron gates, ginormous columns and balconies, and lush landscaping. If you live in this area, you are required to own a poodle, keep it well groomed, and take it for jogs along the waterway in your matching nike fitness attire. I am not impressed with the quality of this photo, and I really wish you could see the poodles, but I needed to get my point across.



Next we watched the sun set on the Charleston Harbor. We saw a pelican, but it was too stealthy to be captured on film.





We bought some local beer and headed over to Kyle's where we planned to stay the night, of course after we had some quick and dirty mexican food and checked out the bar scene. We went to a bar that was up on the 4th floor with a rooftop deck and introduced the bartender to Danger Water (if you don't know about this drink, I will probably eventually dedicate a whole blog to it so stay tuned). The boys introduced us to Sweet Tea infused Vodka. As delicious as it was, I am still trying to decide if I think that was a good judgement call. Next we hit up Raval, a smaller bar where we met up with some friends of Isaiah and Kyle. I drank a few sips of wine and then moved to water. Later, cartwheels in the street ensued, as well as Jen face planting on the sidewalk and getting a good hurrah horn toot from a fire truck passing by and a huge bruise on her elbow.

Isaiah and Kyle have classes in a centuries old prison that is rumored to be haunted. Kyle and I took off to go check this place out, I may or may not have slightly chickened out here, but only because the flashlight died. It was pretty creepy, and for some "strange" reason (I really do believe that it is ghosts) the pictures I took of the prison came out completely black.

I didn't get nearly enough sleep that night, and we had to get on the road reasonably early the next day to make it to New Orleans. I am not going to lie and tell you that a night out partying and trying to keep up with two hearty boys out on the town is an easy thing to wake up to, so Friday proved to be a difficult day for all of us. I ate my leftover "platter of old mexican food" (thanks Kyle), bought some cheesy postcards at the flea market that was once where slaves were bought and sold, and headed on our journey to New Orleans.

"Y'all come back" said Kyle with his southern drawl as he bid us farewell. We all laughed at the cliche of it. Those southern boys....