Day One: The Air is Sweeter in the South


When I say the South, I mean the SOUTH and not Buffalo, where we drove last week to catch our flight to Baton Rouge. The air is thicker in Buffalo, but that's the best I can say. Why is Buffalo so damn grey? Do they still need my dallars? And where's Irv at?

Here's the view from the Echo as we head out on the highway. Is there anything more exciting than that sense of anticipation before a trip? It's almost enough excitement to keep away the SAD we felt leaving the kitties. Oi, the separation anxiety.

We made it across the border! Although, the Robeau did drop his drivers license out the car window, making the customs lady pick it up. That could have been awkward, especially since I had to stifle giggles because the whole scenario made me think of that scene in Annie Hall..."I have a tremendous problem with authority". Har. I had my own problems with customs at the airport. Never mind.

There's TIM'S in the States! Only in Buffalo they have to TELL you what they sell. Seeing that sign was like entering some kind of weird other-worldly dimension. Like America. Never mind.

The minute we exited the airport in Baton Rouge I got hit in the face with the beautiful, sweet smell of gardenias. The cab driver was non plussed, "Yes'm, the gardenias are in bloom right now." After we settle in at the hotel we head over to the neighbourhood that the Robeau lived in while he was in grade five and six. The houses are all sprawling ranch models with manicured lawns, some of them gated. It seems very grande somehow. It also feels like the middle of the night, even though it's only 8pm. It's very dark and nobody is out. Strange. I found the source of that wonderful smell. People actually have these blossoming on their front lawn! Crazy!

Hi. I'm from Canada. A giant sign outside your local junior high school telling people not to carry guns is FUNNY! Yee Haw!!! I'm packing my index finger cause I can point and type really fast. Yee Haw!!! I'm from Canada!

Wait a minute, here's another one outside the Robeau's old JUNIOR school. Crap. It's not so funny anymore.

Especially when juxtasposed right next to this. Ugh.

We wander around the neighbourhood for another hour or so and eventually find ourselves making it back to the hotel by walking for another hour+ along the shoulder of the highway. My choice of footwear is suspect. This is alternately a fun adventure and a huge pain in the ass. We make it back to the hotel in time for a much needed nightcap in the hotel bar. Letterman is on the tube with teenagers who win bird calling contests. Nice.

So this is what it's like to be on vacation...


housekeeping note: to see the the pictures bigger, just click on 'em.

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