The Big Easy

After the battery swap I stuck around to get an oil change and have the BV’s overall health checked.  Unfortunately it did not get the clean bill I had hoped for.  Instead I was told I needed new “lower ball joints” —whatever that is.  I don’t do that greasy finger stuff and I was told it was critical.   An extra five hundred dollars thats all I know.  

My legal obligation to the state of Minnesota fulfilled by my feet being in the five state area for 48 hours, I am on the road again.  

Mid Illinois I stopped off for a brief stay with my friends, The Texans, who I see every summer at the campground.  He had just had knee surgery so was somewhat chair bound.  She was at his beck and call for ice packs, meals, and sweet tea.  Something he was taking full advantage of.  He knew he was healing quickly and would be fetching his own needs before many more days.  He had to bask in it while he could.  Me, with a captive audience, I was able to regale them with tales of my travels. All the stories not fit for print.  He has been excited to see the BV in person. I was glad he was able to shuffle out on a walker for an abbreviated tour.

Driving in the south you get to play the
occupied or abandoned game.

The next night I stayed in the employee parking lot of a meat packing plant south of Jackson Mississippi.  By no means something I wanted to do but I was tired and needed gas.  I pulled off because there was a sign for a service station.  Then, when I pulled up to it, discovered it was closed.  I think it was rolling up on midnight and I didn’t want to deal with it that night.  So I landed into the packinghouse lot.  I figured it would be a quiet spot once third shift was punched it.  It must have instead been some sort of sliding shifts.  People were coming and going all night.  I had never stayed at a place like this before.   I was a little nervous and sleeping light. I got woken up a lot.  

Getting south of Jackson meant I was within striking distance of my destination, New Orleans.  I was awake anyway, I got an early start.  Drove for a couple of hours and then pulled into a truck stop for my work day.  This was my first real full sun work day.  It was really fun watching the voltage/amperage numbers coming off the solar panels knowing those electrons were flowing into the new batteries.  After work I only had a little over an hour drive and I was there.

Prior to the van life I had visited New Orleans twice.  After I returned home I often found myself engaged in conversations with NOLA snobs.  “I bet you never got out of the French Quarter” they accused.  I had little to hide behind.  Outside of a Hop-On tour to a couple hours in the Garden District, they were right.  I hadn’t.  Now in the van, overnight parking in the French Quarter, with its tight streets and high crime, would be out of the question.  This was the best change I have ever been forced into.

My first two nights were spent just a few feet off Magazine Street in the Upper Garden District.  Then to Uptown.  In my notes I had a good parking location noted from last year next to a construction site.  I don’t usually park close to places like this.  Sure, I blend in great, but those people start work way too early for me.  Firing up some forklift at six am!  No way!  I avoid them, but it was Saturday so I figured I would be fine.  In a years time a construction site changes a lot. In this case it had changed into a beautiful outdoor patio gazebo for the bar next door.  

The implications did not occur to me until I returned to the van about midnight, a couple of margaritas and a pleasant, beyond the legal driving limit buzz onboard.  It was a lovely warm night and the patio was filled with a boisterous crowd.  Wow did it ever get hopping about 2am when a lot of the other places closed.  I came very close to just giving up and joining the fun.  The bar seemed to close right at four.  I heard a lot of people shouting drunken good nights.  At long last I was going to get some sleep.  …Then the employees came out and spent an hour drinking and BSing about the night and the customers.  Ah, well.  New Orleans.  This is what I am here for.  I caught up the next night.  They were closed Mondays.  

I know this is near sacrilege but I have never been a big fan of cajun food, or any of that classical New Orleans flavor.  I really tried.  The first two times I visited I ate nothing but the food New Orleans is known for.  I never really liked it.  I even pushed myself to acquire a taste for it because so many people talk of how they love it.  No joy. I never did.  What I did notice is when I got home I had gained ten pounds in two weeks.  I actually tested the scale using bags of flour because I thought it had gone wonky.  I never gain weight.  I’m fifteen pounds heavier than when I graduated high school.  It was the single weight gain of my entire life.  

I became much happier when I arrived here in the van for my first long stay last year.  I proclaimed to myself, “I am giving up.  A city this size has to have other ethnic food” and I was quite right.

To that end I found a very good Indian place called Aroma Indian Cuisine, 401 South Claiborne Ave.  I ordered it medium, next time I go I will order it spicy.  I had a chicken tikka masala,  a little too tomato pastey, but not bad.  Their saag panneer was smooth, creamy and delicious.  The real star of the show was their mutter aloo, peas and potatoes and surprisingly cauliflower.  Had I seen cauliflower on the menu I would have never ordered it.  It was fantastic!  The best I have ever had.  

As good as the food was, the neighborhood was seriously dodgy.  When I rolled up I noticed their parking lot was kind of tight so I elected to park in the street.  It is never easy to get the BV maneuvered around in any parking lot, the smaller ones are really difficult. But then when I pulled into a spot I noticed several of the sketch-lookin’ dudes hanging around to immediately perk up and start paying attention.  I stayed in the van a few extra minutes pretending to use my phone while watching them attempt to act like they were paying no attention to me.  I realized parking in the street while I dined was a near guaranteed break-in, I gave up and pulled it into their lot.  Getting in was easy.  Later, getting out when the lot was full was a forty point turn, but the meal made it worth it!

I think the most amazing thing in New Orleans is the oak trees.  Kind of short by Minnesota/Wisconsin standards but their canopy is vastly wide.  At least twice, or maybe even three times their height.  Many of them have vines and moss growing into the bark. I did a little research and found out some of these oaks are between 750-900 years old.  I had no idea!

The van has been performing well.  It is seldom I see the charge percentage below 95%  I have only had one rainy day so far.  It will be interesting to see what it is like in the frozen north.