Author: Naomi Stobbe

This is a day I have been looking forward to since before the trip began. When we initially decided to do a road trip we immediately checked to see what kind of concerts we might find along the way. Of course many of the artists we checked on were touring in Great Britain, or Australia, or, even if they were in the US, they were in totally different states than those we were travelling through. But Rodney Crowell, someone I have wanted to see for a long time, is actually playing on our route at a time we will be there for.

We are just marking time today until the concert starts so we decide to shop for groceries for our stay in Palm Dessert. We make a HUGE list and head to the local grocery store to pick up everything from toilet paper to corn tortillas. It’s a big load but we manage to squeeze it into the van. The perishables we stash in our hotel fridge to keep cold until tomorrow when we drive the last stretch to Palm Desert.

The concert in the evening is in the Performing Arts Centre attached to the local high school in Wickenburg, Arizona. It is a fabulous facility and anywhere a person might sit is a good seat. But we have great seats, right in the centre just 3 rows from the stage. There is no warm up band, just Rodney Crowell and 2 others. They walk on stage with no fanfare and start to play. It is low key. The music floats out into the auditorium. It is so different from the Jason Isbell concert we saw in Nashville that was loud with a light show and lots of musicians. This feels like Rodney Crowell is in my own living room with a couple of friends. He plays old songs and songs from his new album. The concert lasts for 2 hours. For last song that he plays he gets the audience to sing along with the chorus. And then it is done. No big encore. Just the end of the concert with the sound of all of us singing together sending us out to the parking lot and back to our hotel for the night.

Well, we slept the night through and were not bothered by any creaks on the stairs or visitations by by white night gowned women. Somewhat disappointing (in retrospect) as I would have loved to be woken up in the night by a cold chill passing over the bed or a moaning in the hallway. But the only untoward thing that happens is a somewhat cold shower in the morning that Rudy has to endure. This is perhaps because of old plumbing instead of ghosts as by the time I shower the water is deliciously warm. We head to Safeway to get some fruit and bacon to augment breakfast that is being hosted by Wes and Bridget in their camper. It is nippy again this morning and we are happy to have a cosy camper to have breakfast in. Wes has discovered a screw in one of his tires that is now flat so he and Rudy set to work to make that right (take it off and bring it to a tire shop) and Bridget and I head into town for a walk and to look into some shops. Nothing is open but the walk is fine and when we get back the tire is being put on the camper and we bid each other goodbye and safe travels.

We head out on the road towards Tucson which is a short drive and we decide to go to the Aviaton Museum and Boneyard. The Boneyard has approximately 4,400 aircrafts and covers an area of 2,600 acres. Basically this place is where old planes go to retire or just to sit until they are put back into use. Because of the hot dry climate the planes do not degrade. We get to the museum and pay for the entry and decide to take the tram tour (Rudy and Sue were here quite a number of years ago and found it fascinating). The museum is great. There are so many planes from so many different eras. All the US airforce planes are here (ones I have seen on the news and ones used in movies). The blackbird high altitude surveillance plane is fascinating. We listen to an old guy talk about it. From using titanium that was imported from Russia (through front companies so the Russians didn’t know) to how fast (2200 miles per hour), how high to flew (85 to 90 thousand feet) and hot (600 to 900 degrees Fahrenheit) it got. Anyway after some looking around we get on the tram for our 45 minute tour. WHAT A DISAPPOINTMENT! The tour guide just reads facts off a print out sheet. And much to Rudy’s disappointment the tour does not go into the boneyard. When he and Sue were here and had the tour they had had a great tour guide who had all sorts of personal stories about planes he had flown. Anyway next we go into the World War 2 museum and it is great. There are lots of old guys who have lots of stories and we are able to look into areas in the planes where the gunners sat (in the tail and under the belly of the plane) and hear stories about flight jackets and how each flight crew individualized theirs.

After this we head across town to our hotel. Each day we wonder about our sleeping arrangements. In some ways they are all the same. Bed, desk, TV, bathroom and, almost always, a fridge, microwave, and coffee machine. Today we totally lucked out on our best accommodations so far. The hotel is named the 3 Palms and this does not sound that promising as far as hotel names go. It costs 51 dollars (US dollars but still it is cheap). We arrive and are blown away. The room is SOOOO nice. Clean, comfy, all the amenities. Not to mention there is a HUGE courtyard in the centre with a pool and hot tub and gardens and space. I immediately don my bathing suit, grab my book and head to the hot tub. Ah! Warm! And there is a lovely couple from Wisconsin that I visit with. After they leave I enjoy my book and dream of how it will be in Palm Desert a few days from now when I will be doing the same thing.

We are up and out of El Paso in the morning with our jeans and sweaters and down vests on. It is cold, especially the wind and it looks like it will be this way for the next couple of days. We are taking a desolate lonely road today with few towns or gas stations or places to eat. Once we are out of the big city (after a couple of wrong turns) we are on a quiet single lane highway that heads off into nowhere. There are some ranches but mostly just open spaces. We discuss what it would be like to live out here where neighbours are few and far between. Where do children go to school? How many friends does a person need to keep them happy and connected?

One small town we go through is Hatchita, It is literally a ghost town. It was formerly a copper and silver mining place but now is basically abandoned. One or two houses in town seem to be occupied. This is not re creation of an old west town but the actual thing you might see in a movie. It was cool to see and to compare how it is different than an old abandoned village in the Manitoba Prairies.

Down the road in Animus, New Mexico we notice a restaurant and it may be the only place to stop for something to eat on these miles of desolate highway so we pull in. A pile of high school students burst out of the door with what looks to be like their takeout lunches. The woman inside is a nurturing sort who apologizes for making us wait but she tells us she just has to get her kids fed. By her kids it becomes apparent that she means the high school students in town. Usually they use an app to order their food but today they all phoned her personally and she had to rush to get the food all ready. We chat for a while longer and hear that the school (grades K to 12) has about 227 students and they come from as far away as way south of Hatchita and many have a 1 and a half hour bus ride in the morning and then again after school.  The restaurant serves up the regular restaurant food. I get a salad and a burger and it is homemade and good. We just start our meal when an old cowboy walks in and orders a meal. He is wearing a cowboy hat, boots, and ranching clothes. He is dusty from the top of his hat run down to his boots. He promptly turns to us and says that he hopes that we ordered the green chili burger as it is the best you can get anywhere. This is the start of a conversation that goes on for a long time. It is fascinating. A real insight into life in these parts. He banters back and forth to the cook/server/probably owner of the place. He is off to get his oil in his truck changed but wants to order the chicken and fries to pick up later to take home to his wife. We talk some more and ask him about his life here. Has he lived here his whole life?

“Nope,” he says, “I grew up on a ranch in Colorado. Then ended up in California working on a ranch there. My neighbour and I helped each other out. Well, neighbour,” he continues, “he lived 21 miles away but he was the closest around. Anyway my neighbour moved to Oklahoma and I said I would help him and drive his rig out there. After I done that I decided I’d take the train back to California. On the first day I met this widow woman and we got along real well. We talked for 2 days straight before she got off here in Animus. I got her phone number and one day I phoned her from California and said I was thinking of coming for a visit. Well I did, and that was 18 years ago and I never left.”

It is a beautiful story and the way it is told sends shivers up and down my spine. The romance of it (not just the relationship between the two of them, but the idea of putting down roots based on a chance encounter on a trip across the country) warms me. I know, of course, that it is never that simple, but the man has a charming way of speaking about his love for place and what it all entails (cattle, dog, cats, 6 chickens).

“Oh six chickens was yesterday. Today there’s only five.”

When he hears that we had spent the previous night in El Paso, he exclaims, “I hate that place. Way too many people. And they are not very polite either.” It speaks volumes of small town friendliness where you depend on your neighbours for a variety of things, the least of which is civility. We mention seeing the miles upon miles of the wall as we drove along the border. “Ah,” he mutters, “How stupid is that! We had a former president who had some idiotic ideas.” Rudy and I are sure surprised to hear that statement in this neck of the woods that, for all indications, seems like it is total Trump country.

We arrive in Bisbee, Arizona where we have arranged to meet Wes and Bridget. We check in at Hotel La More. It was built in 1916 and was inhabited by miners  who worked at the local copper mine (now closed) as well as others. The present owner has restored it to its previous charm. Rooms have been renovated to ensure each room has a private bath but it has all been done to remain true to the original feel. The doors and woodwork match the original and the bathroom floor is done with vintage penny tile. Parlours and dining areas are filled with antiques and these areas are meant to share with other hotel guests. I am absolutely charmed. This is exactly my cup of tea.

We text Wes and Bridget and make the 4 minute walk to the RV park where we sit in out of the cold and visit. Afterwards we bundle up and walk around town. There are many old miners’ houses that have been bought up, and fixed up with paint etc. The stores (beautiful huge spaces with wooden floors and brick exteriors) house many artists places and antique and junk stores. There is a massive stone building that was one of the first libraries built in the state. There are other old hotels and town buildings and miners museums. Around supper we stop at a Mexican place and choose a warm place inside to have a bite to eat. Afterwards we head to a place that has live music. Unfortunately it is not to our liking so we head back to our hotel parlour for a cup of tea. While we are there we meet other travellers and even a ghost tour comes through to check for restless spirits. Supposedly there are a number of ghosts who have taken up residence in the hotel. Most famous is a cat that took up residence in room 23. Room 15 contains the Exhausted Spirit who is harmless and just trying to get a good nights rest. However I can see this might be distressing (not to mention crowded) if I would have to share the bed with both Rudy and that guy. But luckily we have booked into room 8 and even if we meet the Lady in White in the hallway (recognizable by the scent of Lilacs that usually accompanies her spectre) we will probably be okay.

I climb into bed expecting to be woken at least by a creak in the hallway.

The morning when I wake up and step outside I immediately reenter the hotel room. It is freezing out and I need to change from my shorts into jeans and a sweater and my down vest. Yikes! Yesterday we almost melted into the pavement when we went for a walk to the Historic Fort Stockton and today it is cold. We decide to eat breakfast out of our cooler. Rudy has bread with peanut butter and Swiss cheese. Yuck. But he washes it down with a slug of wine.  Because, as he says,  “Bread and cheese need a little wine to go with them.” I settle for just the bread and cheese. We set out in the rain with our heated seats on but by the time we have traveled a couple of hours the sun has come out and it is 23 and when we arrive in El Paso, Texas we feel VERY overdressed. We have nothing that we want to see in El Paso. I guess we feel like our trip is over and we have lost our interest to historical war monuments etc. So instead we go for coconut shrimp and salads. It is delicious, especially the salad. I am definitely looking forward to more veggies once we get to California and set up house. Rudy spends the afternoon watching Sunday afternoon football and I read and blog and just generally hang out. We are off to Bisbee, Arizona tomorrow where we will meet up with Wes and Bridget. Just a few more days before the road part of this trip is over.

Today we have randomly chosen Fort Stockton, Texas as the place we will stop for the night. It is a shorter drive, just over four and a half hours. The land becomes quite desolate. This is definitely Texas desert: sand and rocks and dry brush with small touches of green. Not much to tell about the journey.  It really feels like the road trip is coming to an end as the whole highlight of the drive, at least for Rudy, is a stop at a Dairy Queen for a stretch and a strawberry chocolate Blizzard. I feel like an old woman. My hip is still bugging me and is exacerbated by sitting long hours in the van. But finally we make it to this desolate town of Fort Stockton. We have booked into the Deluxe Hotel and is is fabulous. It’s a family run business and boy do they take pride in this place. Everything is spotless and the woman at the desk is so nice. Her young children play in the courtyard on their trampoline and with their bikes. But the town itself is a wind blown nothing place.

I have researched that there is a historic fort here. We walk out onto the blazing hot asphalt and head down a couple of blocks to the Fort. We are the only visitors although Rudy says that there is one other name in the guest book from today. We learn that in 1866, Congress established six all-black regiments (consolidated to four shortly after) to help rebuild the country after the Civil War and to fight on the Western frontier during the Plains Indian Wars. It was from one of these regiments, the 10th Cavalry, that the nickname Buffalo Soldier was born. According to sources Native Americans (I am not sure which tribes) called these Black soldiers Buffalo Soldiers because their hair reminded them of Buffalo fur found on the shoulders of American Bison. Hmmm, this term rings a bell. Rudy googles the song by Bob Marley and here are some of the lyrics:

For supper we head to one of the two restaurants that are open in Fort Stockton. It is a Mexican place and not exactly a place where you get great service. We had to get our own menus, practically go and get our own drinks and definitely had to ask for cutlery so we could eat our meal. The meal, however, was delicious so that was good and the clientele is just what you would expect. In fact almost looked like a characters in a movie about the Wild West (as seen in this sneak picture that I took) but certainly a fitting bookend to our day.

Well here we are in San Antonio. It is a huge city and pretty overwhelming but Rudy, like the tour guide he is, has researched the transit system and has our bus trip down to the centre of San Antonio all mapped out. We get to the bus stop and climb aboard. The trip to downtown is through a pretty rough area that has many derelict buildings and businesses and homes that don’t seem very prosperous. It is interesting how a person’s view of a city is based on the small part that they see and then it changes based on the experiences they have there. In the West End of Winnipeg my experience is coloured by the actual look of the neighbourhood but even more perhaps by who I meet, where I can grab stuff to eat and how close I am to the people I love. The large freeways, the garbage on the streets and the run-down buildings say one thing. On the other hand, the bus driver who is super patient with me as I jam the fare machine with coins and equally patient with all the riders on the bus as he answers their questions and helps those with wheelchairs off and on the bus. And so by the time we get downtown I like the place.

First we head to The Alamo. I have some vague idea that it was a place where a huge battle took place. And yes it is. Supposedly Davy Crockett fought and died there. Also it was a fight against the Mexicans lead by Santa Anna(the President of Mexico) who was denying Texas some of the autonomy that had been agreed upon. (Texas was not yet a part of the United States.) Well everyone at Alamo was slaughtered but other Texans from the surrounding area got a company of soldiers together and routed the Mexicans (killed 600 and supposed only lost 9) and they did this all to the rallying cry, “Remember the Alamo.” So there it is. Do I sound ambivalent about this. Well I guess I kinda am. My only comment is that it is always interesting how history is told. It all depends on perspective and usually the perspective is that of the winner. So the Alamo is in Texas and not Mexico so that is how the story is told.

Next we head to the Riverwalk. It is really cool. We take stairs down to the walkway that winds up and down the river on both sides. Each portion of the walkway is varied depending on which business built it. There are restaurants and hotels and loads and loads of people. It feels somewhat European with pedestrian bridges and car bridges criss crossing the water. The downtown is a mixture of historical buildings and new glass and metal buildings. We stop for snacks and  drinks at one establishment along the Riverwalk. It is beautiful what with the curving pathway and plantings and massive trees that line the river. We hear that there will be a Day of the Dead parade with barges on the river tonight if the weather holds. It has been rainy off and on. We decide to go back to the hotel and come out later for the parade.

In the evening we catch the bus again and head to the Riverwalk. It is even more packed out. They have sold tickets for chairs that line the walk but we manage to find a place on one of the bridges. It offers a great view of the river. After about an hour wait we see the first barge. It is dark by now and they are lit up with neon lights and many of the barges have singers and dancers on them. It is a neat idea and we enjoy it although it is not as spectacular as I imagined it would be. But excitement is in the air and people are streaming through the streets, and horse drawn carriages line the pavement so all in all it has been worth it. We buy some street food and sit on an iron bench on a bridge and eat. Then we head back for the bus and back to the hotel.

It poured today! So there is no real sightseeing today except through the van window. We drive past the murals depicting the history of  New Braunfels. There are loads of historic buildings but we can only take pictures through the rain streaked windows because even opening them a crack lets a lot of water in. Hoping the rain will slow we drive back to Gruene district but still can’t get out. What should we do? The rain starts to slacken and we head out to the freeway but just as we merge it comes down in a deluge. We can’t see anything and the freeway is packed. Everyone puts on their 4-way flashers but visibility is minimal so we immediately pull off at the next exit and sit in the van until the rain lets up a bit. It seems like today is a bust for any outside sightseeing so we get on the road to San Antonio. When we arrive it seems overwhelming to me. San Antonio is big and the criss crossing roads over and under the freeway are confusing. Good thing we have GPS to find the hotel. It is a lot of back and forth and u-turns under overpasses to get there. Once we are there we decide to stay put and only to venture out for supper by walking. This limits are options. We chose a BBQ place thinking this is the lesser of the evils. Not sure if it is. The fried chicken is tasteless and we go back to our hotel room to plan for a better day tomorrow. Keeping our fingers crossed that we don’t get too much rain.

It is sometimes a bit of a crap shoot as to where we end up on any given night. Of course we have had specific destinations we wanted to see but it seems on this last leg of the trip we are just making it up as we go along. Today our destination is New Braunfels, Texas. It is close to San Antonio and basically we are heading here because I read some things that sound interesting. The most interesting of these being Gruene Hall. which is a dance hall where loads of famous musicians have played. I am talking John Prine, Jerry Jeff Walker, Townes Van Zandt, Lucinda Williams and on and on. Tonight some no name group is playing and we are going to see them.

But first we need to get to New Braunfels and it is a 5 hour drive.  There is loads of road construction and then lots of traffic through Houston and the driving for a lot of the time is terrible for Rudy. Finally, however, we get through it all and arrive at our hotel. These hotels are beginning to look all the same and I get the strange feeling of coming home when we drive into a parking lot and sign in. The upholstered chair, or what I like to call Rudy’s throne, always has at least one rip and one stain. The office chair, which is mine, is firm and has wheels so that I can sometimes drive it out onto the front sidewalk area of our hotel room to get some relief from the lavender cleaning solution they use. I have my side of the bed for my stuff and Rudy gets the suitcase holder. He generally unloads the drinks and food into the fridge and I flop down on the bed.

After our set up I suggest a sightseeing expedition starting at a walking bridge in a mill district. We walk over it and back and stop at 2 boutique shops seemingly randomly situated in a desolate area of town. She shops are super neat with one have loads of crazy out there clothing that I would love to buy. But I need browsing and thinking time if that is going to happen and my compatriot is ready for our lunch/supper. We head for Vietnamese noodle bowls.

In the evening we head to the district of Gruene which we find is an actual historical village. There are loads of people enjoying the warm evening air. In the dance hall the band is playing and people are sitting at old wooden tables with benches. The whole place is made of wooden beams and plank floors and siding and screen doors. There are a number of pool tables and the bar and loads of water coolers (I guess for all the hot sweaty dancers to rehydrate). And speaking of dancing, the cowboys and cowgirls are out in full force doing the Texas two-step. It is marvellous and I am tempted to haul Rudy out into the parking lot to teach him a few steps. It is actually heartbreaking to be in Texas at a dance hall and not be dancing.

But all is not lost. We go to the General Mercantile Store which is now an antique shop and I wander for ages looking at everything.  There are dishes and dresses, coffee cans and canning jars, motorcycle gas tanks and army tanks (replicas). Rudy has his fill after a while but I continue on through the shop. It’s like a walk through memory lane. The is a Honda 50 motorcycle gas tank just like the one on my brother Wes’s first bike. I remember driving it through the ditches. There is tin enamelware from my childhood, the same Miriam now collects. There are comic books like we used to read at the Rexall Drug Store in Boissevain. I never bought any but we would  stand for hours reading them. After enjoying all the old things I wander into a clothing shop. Wow!  Gotta love all the cowboy shirts. I want one! With pearl buttons and all! Just like the lemon coloured one my mom sewed for me when I was 11 or 12 and I wore on the Prairie Dusters Horse Club trail rides in the Turtle Mountains.

I limp back to the van with Rudy at the end of the evening. This old cowgirl is having some hip trouble. Did she fall off her horse. No Siree! She’s just old. Good thing her cowboy friend doesn’t dance cause if she would have kicked up her heels tonight it might be a lot worse.

Today we spend a relaxing morning just lying around our Airbnb until checkout time. In fact we get so carried away there that the owner knocks on our door to see if we are leaving so that she can clean.  We still have a few minutes until check out time so we pretend that we are on it and quickly pack our stuff in the van and leave. We have had a relaxed breakfast that Rudy made and I have worked on catching up on blog entries.

We are heading to Lake Charles, Louisiana for night. The highways are basically miles upon miles of bridges through the swamps and over the waterways. Not much to say about that. Rudy drives and I continue to catch up on blogs. I have spent many days letting them lapse because of activity filled days but now I need to get them done. Rudy stops for a burger for lunch and I get an iced coffee.

When we arrive in Lake Charles we check in at our hotel and head to the local CVS pharmacy to get our Covid 19 vaccinations. We have booked appointments on line. After that we head for supper. Rudy has located a seafood joint and punched it into the Google Maps. Unfortunately he deleted that stop and when we arrive at our destination we find no Seafood Place. After driving around the block I mention that this place seems familiar. Ah ha. Yes.  We are at our hotel. What idiots. We are nowhere close to the eating place we wanted to be. We park the van in the hotel parking lot and cross the street to a Mexican place. Delicious. I have the Shrimp with Garlic plate and Rudy has a Shrimp Chimichanga plate. So there. We have seafood. Not Cajun style, but seafood nonetheless. We head back to our hotel for the rest of the evening, watch some John Oliver political commentary, some sort of Ancestory show and now a bit of baseball. Through it all I work on blog stuff. Whew. I am done. All caught up.

I have always dreamed of coming here. Of all the places in the United States this place has so much rich history. It is formative in the birth of blues music, was central to much of the slave trade, surrounded by cotton plantations, defied prohibition, and has Spanish and French roots. And so we are here.

We wake up and have the lovely experience of cooking breakfast for ourselves. It has certainly been awhile since this happened and is a pleasure to do. We have a kitchen in our airbnb and we shopped for groceries at Rousse’s market just down the street last night so we are all set.  I fry eggs, pan fry mushrooms and yellow peppers, and make toast. Rudy brews some coffee and I make a delicious Earl Grey tea (the first of the trip) with milk and honey. It is just the way I like it.  We sit on the front porch in the sun and enjoy our food.

Then it is off on our adventure. But first we need to do our good deed for the day. Yesterday, on a walk in the neighbourhood I found a lanyard with keys and ID card for a grade 6 kid at a local school. We located the school and made the 20 minute walk there. At the door we had to buzz in through the metal covered doors and speak to the security guard on the intercom. He let me in and gladly received the keys and let me know he would make sure that they got to the young man. Wow. That was a first time experience with the security at an American school. Certainly a chilling reminder about gun violence.

After this we grab the bus and proceed downtown. Rudy has researched how the bus passes work and buys them  from the driver. Our passes are for unlimited travel for a 24 hour period are cheap. Mine is 3 dollars for the day. Rudy’s, due to his advanced age, is only 80 cents. He also gets to sit at the front of the bus due to being “a persona de edad avanzado”. I make sure that he is able to negotiate his walker to the elderly persons seating area and we head to the French Quarter. In some ways like a different version of Nashville. It has tacky souvenir shops with Mardi Gras masks and beads, restaurants with local cuisine,and  bars with stages for bands to play on. It is fairly quiet during the day but we do see some street musicians. For lunch we share on variety plate (or bowls in this case) of gumbo (chicken and andouille sausage, duck and andouille sausage and shrimp and andouille sausage).  We dump in Louisiana hot sauce and enjoy. By midafternoon Rudy is ready to go back to the airbnb for a break. I have a craving to wander a bit more myself. I stop at a coffee shop and order some beignets. They are a French donut drowning in icing sugar. I deem them okay. I sit for a while and just enjoy the people walking by. It is nice to be alone as I don’t have to think about whether a chosen activity is good for Rudy as well. With this in mind I decide to pop into some shops. The souvenir shops are just what I expect and do nothing for me so I look for something different. A place named Trashy Diva catches my eye. It is a modern vintage place where the designer has clothes in a wide range of sizes based on styles from the 1800s to 1960. This is not the usual beige linen wear that is the norm in most  touristy places. The fabrics are wild and colourful and rich, many of the natural fabrics or blends. The drop and flow of the fabric is fabulous. I imagine that if I was rich enough that I would buy some of these outfits for myself and the woman I love. I can sink into this imaginary world and don’t have to worry about Rudy standing somewhat patiently outside the entrance wondering whether I am purchasing anything and why it is taken so long. On reappearing outside he might ask where my purchase is. If Rudy wants something he buys it and doesn’t dilly dally. But buying  is not the purpose of these in-store visits. It is a trip into a land of colours and textures and patterns. It’s a journey into the imagination. So no, I didn’t actually purchase anything with money. But yah, I bought something. I bought an experience, an excursion into possibilities and worlds and experiences. This priceless experience didn’t cost a thing.

I catch the bus back by myself and relax for an hour or so before Rudy and I head out for an evening on the town. We catch a bus on a different route only a block from our place. What a win. Even in this short time we are getting our bearings.

The French Quarter is hopping. We end up on Bourbon Street and it is crazy. Even though it is Monday night, loads of streets are blocked off to traffic and people stream down the streets from bar to eating place. Music is blaring out of many of the places. It is louder and grittier than Nashville. Jazz and Rock are blaring onto the street. We stop at a place that offers food and I get a shrimp Poboy (sandwich) and Rudy gets some Jambalaya. While we sit, the band (2 old guys), strike up a tune. One gentleman plays trumpet and does vocals and the other one is on the keyboard. It is lovely in so many ways. They may have a playlist but it seems that one song just melts into the next. The singer starts into a song (maybe just some woo hahs) and within a few bars the pianist joins in. How does the pianist know which key the song is in and even which song it is? But they improvise and slide on into what they are doing. A few lines of singing and then the vocalist grabs his trumpet and it starts to sing. This music probably isn’t anything I would choose from my music library but, because it is live, I totally enjoy it.

We walk the length of the street stopping at the doorways of various bars listening to the music. One place is a piano bar and we enjoy a number of familiar tunes like Benny and the Jets and I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues. Although the music was great, it was a bit of a juggling act. A young handsome man who was probably hired to bring people into the venue gyrated in and out of the venue, making advances into the crowd. I keep myself small and try to avoid his attention. I imagine Rudy is feeling much like me as he has shuffled off to the side away from the doorway. I half hope that Rudy will be singled out so I can see him get down and boogie. Luckily some other old people (and young ones as well) are targeted and we just get to enjoy the tunes. The next bar we stop at has a 5 piece band. It is energetic and I love it and so we get get our ID checked and go in. They are playing loads of great familiar stuff and lots of people are dancing and singing on the floor in front of the band. A so enjoy a number of the band members but soon we decide we should catch our bus back to our place. It’s a short ride home and it feels so easy. We arrive home satisfied with all the days activities.