Jamblaya Diaries: Tuesday, January 22nd

The greatest obstacle to discovering the shape of the earth, the continents, and the oceans was not ignorance but the illusion of knowledge. -Daniel J. Boorstin, historian, professor, attorney, and writer (1914-2004) 

I frequently tramped eight or ten miles through the deepest snow to keep an appointment with a beech-tree, or a yellow birch, or an old acquaintance among the pines. -Henry David Thoreau, naturalist and author (1817-1862)

We had planned to visit Louisiana’s Civil War Museum on Sunday but as it was closed Cora Lee and I had decided to go there after breakfast this morning. Lovely stroll, shirt-sleeve, sunny weather, about 15 minutes from our place. Formerly known as the Confederate Museum, it is one of the largest repositories of Confederacy-related artifacts and memorabilia in the United States, in addition to being the oldest continuously operating museum in Louisiana:

"The Louisiana Historical Association built the museum in 1891, and its exterior sandstone construction and cathedral-like appearance stand out in contrast to its more recent surroundings on the edge of New Orleans’ Warehouse Arts District.

Art: Francesco Casanova (Giacomo's younger brother) (1727-1803)

A large Columbiad, Civil War-era cannon (circa 1865) mounted on the front terrace welcomes visitors to what is now a landmark on the National Register of Historic Places. Louisiana residents donated most of the contents of the museum.

Memorial Hall was the site of the city’s farewell to Jefferson Davis, the first and only president of the Confederate States of America. Davis, who died in New Orleans in 1889, was buried here until 1893, when his remains were transferred to Richmond, Virginia for reburial. More than 60,000 people turned out to pay their respects to Davis while he was lying in state for two days prior to his interment.

Varina Howell Davis, Davis’ widow, contributed the large collection of Jefferson Davis memorabilia to the museum. Davis family artifacts were divided up among only four museums, and the Civil War Museum displays about one-fourth of the donated estate. The museum also features:

• Civil War uniforms and other attire worn by officers and common soldiers
• Confederate weapons, including guns, bullets, shells and swords
• Exhibits relating to everyday life of Confederate forces, including mess kits, personal belongings of soldiers and other individual items
• Personal belongings of Confederate Generals Robert E. Lee, P.G.T. Beauregard, Braxton Bragg and Franklin Gardner
• Battle flags of individual Confederate regiments and Louisiana secessionist flags
• Paintings, prints and photographs depicting leaders, soldiers and events (including battles) that occurred in Louisiana during the Civil War period
• Documents relating to the secession of Louisiana, the capture and occupation of New Orleans by Federal forces and the battles that were fought within Louisiana. 

Just outside the museum is Lee Circle, a tribute to commanding Confederate General Robert E. Lee, whose 16-foot statue stands atop a 60-foot white marble column. The monument was erected in 1884 and the statue of Lee faces north where, as local lore has it, he can always look in the direction of his military adversaries.

We spent a good two hours absorbing the artifacts, in the main displayed in attractive, closed cabinets, made of heart of cypress. Cora Lee left before I did, intent on making for the French Quarter and an afternoon of shopping, unfettered by my nay-saying self! I stayed on, finding it hard to tear myself away from some of the uniforms, one with a right arm sleeve torn to shreds by an artillery shell. The owner, an officer, survived the devastating trauma and his company presented him with a pair of left-handed gloves upon his return to duty! I am quite unfamiliar with the history of the bloody Civil War battles but was quite surprised, (and saddened, obviously, at the carnage, as how could one not be), to learn that the losses suffered by both Confederate and Union troops, at Shiloh, were almost identical, literally within 5-10+/- individuals, both killed and wounded. The main interior of Memorial Hall is a very large, attractive exhibition room with exposed ceiling beams and adorned, in many places, with flags of the Confederacy, in and of themselves, quite stirring. 

One particularly fascinating exhibit was a DVD, (in an otherwise static offering), showing extremely rare film footage of Civil War veterans. How could this be, was my first thought, since the Civil War ended in 1865. Nevertheless, here before my very eyes they were in motion, men who had been on the field at Gettysburg, chatting and talking, their long white beards blowing in the wind.

I soon learned, chatting with a fellow viewer, "that they were filmed in 1938, 20 years after WWI and just a few years before WWII. They had grown up with horses and trains, and they arrived at the Blue and Gray Reunion by car. Seventy-five years after the Battle of Gettysburg, a Federal commission took on the massive task of identifying and inviting Civil War veterans (who were limited only to those who had been “regularly enlisted” and seen “actual service”) to the reunion. Over 10,000 invitations were sent out to Union and Confederate veterans, the media, and dignitaries.

In the end, there were 1,890 acceptances and 2,226 declines. Over 2,000 invitations were returned marked “deceased.” For the reunion, veterans were housed in a tent city set up on the campus of Gettysburg College. It was a big operation, with three kitchens serving food in 55 mess tents and a field hospital for the elderly men." 

Watching the footage made me feel a bit like being in H.G. Wells' Time Machine! Quite a disorienting experience yet such a gripping counterpoint to the swords and muskets displayed. Picked up a number of postcards and fridge magnets and then made for Rouse's to buy some fixings for lunch on the road on Wednesday when we would be driving back to Dallas. Walked home along St Charles, enjoying the street cars as they passed. Started talking with another pedestrian while we both waited for a light and one thing lead to another and he told me about being able to ride from Audubon Park along the top of the levee all the way to Baton Rouge. Armed with this information, decided I'd put my bike on the car rack and drive to the park and explore for an hour or so.

Once back I soon realized, that once again, my cycling plans were to be thwarted! My bike lock key was still on the ring in Cora Lee's purse since I had not anticipated a ride. Disappointed, to be sure, I made the best of things and prepared my sandwiches, peeled carrots and sliced cheese for tomorrow's traveling picnic. Lynne and Peter arrived shortly after I had boiled some potatoes to be fried for breakfast before we left and we chatted about their day. They had taken the street car to City Park to visit the New Orleans Museum of Art and were most impressed with the collections housed within as well as the to more than sixty sculptures from artists from all over the world set among the meandering footpaths of the Sydney and Walda Besthoff Sculpture Garden, adjacent to NOMA itself.

After we had shared our experiences, I hastened to my desk upstairs to work on the Jambalaya Diaries. CoraLeeta returned about an hour later and proudly displayed her "finds" for the day and at just after 5:00pm, Dom Pedro announced that the bar was officially open so I came downstairs to join the assembled Juiceheads. Coramandel insisted we open a Passalacqua, Dry Creek, 2010 Zinfandel, 15.5%, before we headed out to the restaurant of choice for our last evening meal of the stay. I obliged since Petros and I were imbibing a few snorts of maltage, Ardbeg and Jura.

Dinner was to be at Cochon, at 930 Tchoupitoulas Street, only about a 15 minute walk from us in the Wharehouse District. Most pleasant stroll as the evening was mild and warm. What an incredible find, for us, suggested by William Banks McClintock IV, and was he ever dead on the money. Everything from the inviting space, rough brick walls and comfortable tables and chairs to the excellent, attentive service seemed as nothing compared to the fine, fine cuisine. We dined on delicious appetizers: CL went with Wood-fired Oyster Roast, Petros the Roasted Shrimp with hog jowls & chilis, I the Fried Alligator with chili garlic aioli while Lynne resisted as she was having one of the Specials, a large pork chop with mustard greens and broccoli. Divino but our entrees were even better: Smoked Ham Hock with baked peanuts & charred radishes fro Jugos; Catfish Courtbouillon for Cora Lee and Louisiana Cochon with turnips, cabbage, pickled peaches & cracklins for Patrizzio! Enjoyed a very smooth, silky yet quite peppery 2011 Cote du Rhone,Domaine Chaume-Arnaud, Vinsobres, La Petite Coquet” – 80% Grenache, 20% Cinsault. No room for dessert so we did a flight of three bourbons: Balcones "Baby Blue", ("A young Texas corn whiskey. It has an inviting nose of marzipan, smoked chili pepper, dark chocolate and baking spice that keads to a toasted almond."); Four Roses, ("This bourbon has a floral aroma and has rosy, grainy and spicy undertones with a bit of a honey twist. It finishes with soothing smoothness and holds hints of spicy orangen."); Breckenridge Bourbon Whiskey, ("from the highest distillery in the world, rye plays a large role in this bourbon. Yellow corn makes up the rest and finishes with just a touch of barley. It is then aged for 2-3 years in American Oak.") Last was everyone's favourite and then home to play three-handed bridge. Lynne said goodnight while the three remaining die-hards sipped a Coffaro 2010 Escuro, 15.0%. I must admit I had most if not all of the cards so around 10:00p, (We had an early start the next morning as we had to load the car and then have The Naramatians at the airport by 8:30pm, probably fighting rush-hour traffic for part of the way.), we said goodnight to one another. 

Before turning in, I finished packing most of my possessions and muled my bags downstairs. Collected and boxed all the un-drunk hootch and dry foodstuffs and stacked them near the door

before turning out the lights and returning upstairs to read a bit. Was close to midnight before I was too sleepy to finish the chapter I was on so was happy to leave Edie Kiglatuk on her "snowbie", driving along the shoreline in Kuujuaq towards the landing strip where she will meet the two "qalunaat" she will next guide. To be continued...

Chloe Alexis Dunn

‎7 am HOT class, Krissy Seymour made me get up at 6, so we could be there in time!!!! :-(

Dear Corinne & Patrick,

Thank you for all the lovely photos in your last letter Patrick and thank you for your call Corinne.  I am amazed at the amount of travelling you are doing as you head to your next destination the Caribbean Islands.  I went to bed that night and laid there thinking of all the wonderful places I have been too along with John. My mind took me back to a wonderful trip to the island of Aruba as I drove a jeep across its dessert, swimming in azure blue sea then heading back to the Caribbean Resort where I stayed for a week  I found myself addicted to the casinos late into the wee hours of the night.

I had the luxury of staying in five star hotels so there was opulence all around me and I too am thankful for the many opportunities I had to see this most amazing world. On three different weekends I was flown to St. Marin in the Bahamas to the Christian Dior Spa where the rich and famous luxuriated their bodies. It was a step up from our once wonderful adventure in Calistoga’s mud baths but both provides us with a serenity that one seeks and has always left me with fond memories of that time we spent with you.

When I visited the Cost del Sol of Spain I stayed in the Riviera del Sol for a week, whilst walking along their boardwalks that winded there way for miles overlooking the Mediterranean Sea and stopping ever so often to enjoy tapenades whilst enjoying the spectacular views. From Spain I headed over to Africa and spent a day shopping in the Kasbah in Morocco buying wonderful pieces of art, riding camels and feasting on fine cuisine.

I can remember once arriving in Geneva staying there for a week experienced a breath taking train ride on the Glacier Express that links Zermatt to St. Moritz as we as journeyed up through the craggy Swiss Alps to witness the most magnificent of views.

I spent a week in the Casino de Monte Carlo Hotel that hosted world famous stars and found myself once again quite addicted to the casino life. John came a week later and fondly remember strolling along the medieval village of Eze surrounded by twelfth century castles which I so thoroughly enjoyed the week before and long to do it again. We strolled along the many promenades we feasted on Foie Gras De Canard, Truffes and French wine.

Years ago John had work to do at the University of Liege and I found myself walking along a maze of medieval streets that hosted the most impressive of Gothic 13^th & 15^th century churches that were once paid for by the Ghent’s most wealthy medieval merchants and guild. The French are so fashion conscious; I swear there must have been over two hundred shoe stores in this little town. And shopping was brisk. Noting this of course as Liege seemed the same size as Victoria to our ten shoe stores. John & I took the train through the many small towns in Holland stopping to enjoy mouthwatering Dutch Apple Flappen as we walked along the many canals. When we arrived in Amsterdam we visited Rembrandts home and the world famous Rijks museum, and of course stopping to visit the Red light district that left nothing to the imagination as women paraded their wares in red fringed window parlors offering more than a school boy peep show in a private cabin. Busloads of Japanese tourists toted their cameras mouths agape.

As John & I have both travelled for a good twenty five years he spent seven years going back and forth from Van. to Jakarta Indonesia and I had the pleasure of going a few times.  I remember arriving at the airport it was thick with security guards toting rifles and guns. A city of nine million with a diverse mix of religions, Islam, Christian, Hinduism, Buddhism, it was Ramadan a month long fasting and I could see people carrying sacrificial sheep on their backs to be slaughtered. The city was thick with poverty and wealthier homes had huge walls surrounding them and guard dogs.  We arrived at a most opulent five star hotel I had ever seen, the hotel Borobudur outstretched on lush green tropical gardens, Palm trees blowing in the breeze, Olympic size pools, spas, marbled floors, servants to look after your every wish with huge opulent rooms to relax in. Taking a cab to the market was hair rising as they did not have any rules on the road so they drove every which way zipping in and out to their destination; one hangs on for dear life. The markets were laden with designer watches and such at affordable prices; of course a lot of them copies but it were all so much fun.

Our trips were many one to Hong Kong to enjoy many nights feasting on Peking duck to our five years in Australia living in the Mali Desert, Melbourne to the Great Barrier Reef where sand dunes were at our door step and every weekend we would take a flagon of wine down to the ocean and spend the day there. Every day we walked the long uninhabited beach as locals were always so fearful of stinging jellyfish, rockfish and such. We were fearless, we were young.

I think I told you once of my experience standing on the road by a sunrise market in the hamlet of Kula in Hawaii getting ready to take the ride of my life on a bike tour down the Kilauea Volcano. Bundled up in jackets, gloves, helmets, we were told to ride defensively as we took a glimpse of the view but not to look on hairpin turns. We moved halfway around these bends, whipping around chatting with whoever was beside us cycling down hardened lava, far below sugar cane fields in the distance as we wind round and round at great speeds.  The gal in front of me missed the second half of the turn, hit her breaks and flipped over the mountain. Ambulanced were soon everywhere traffic came to a halt as we slowly moved down the mountain. With a few broken ribs she too went home in a week. Many moments were spent dining on luxury yachts drinking mai tais. Long endless days on white sand and blue seas. Awesome sightseeing tours by helicopter or bus tours visiting the many islands.

"nuclear shadows"

If there is one place I could go back to a hundred times that is Hawaii.  John and I first visited Hawaii at the young age of 27 on our way to Australia; somehow to be young on a tropical beach paints a picture of romanticism. I can remember my long brown hair, short spaghetti strapped white dress on a wall tanned body as we strolled along the beach at night with a pink frangipani leis cascading over my shoulders. Hand in hand we moved to the rhythm of the waves as the most perfect of warm summer breezes blew through our hair. Every moment experienced there was picture perfect and I felt the same when I went there again without John ten years ago.

From Hawaii we went to Fiji on our way to Australia not knowing where we were going to stay in Fiji. We boarded a country bus that travelled between Nandi and Suva, Fijian villagers boarded the bus with their chickens and their goats as the bus moved along a narrow bumpy road, we clung to what ever we could to keep balanced. The bus made a turn and suddenly stopped at this most amazing resort on the water. This was paradise, we looked at each other and without saying a word we got off to experience the magic that we felt. Paradise on this most perfect of islands. As we entered the thatched roof resort, guests sitting at the bar, palm trees swaying in the breeze, azure blue seas, white sands ahead and magnificent Fijian men and Fijian women breathtakingly beautiful walking around everywhere waiting to make our stay complete. We were invited to dine with one of the local Fijian servants with their family; we sat cross legged under thatched roofs overlooking the sea in their village, as we ate curried pork and drinking mango juice.

We soon arrived in Melbourne for another adventure to begin, we were penny less but happy.

Today like many days I walk through the magical forest of Mystic Vale with my two dear friends Benson and Tess.  Mystic Vale is a deep set forest that borders the University. Laden with sword ferns, running water trickles over the river rocks and tall sixty foot trees cascade over us.  It a haven of solitude moments where time stands still and one is with nature.  This is what I now love where I have learned to finally stand still and listen, to see my most perfect world. I am calm here and at peace with myself. I am happy although no one person can define what happiness is it varies from one person to the next.

I can remember over and over again when I use to stand up on stage every year for fifteen years at our Avon conventions in Montreal in front of 500 hundred people in my long sleeveless  black dress with black long gloves. I had to be an over achiever and was awarded continually for my hard work.  I knew in time that these moments would console me that I had achieved so much and was recognized for my efforts.  Then one day it meant nothing I no longer needed the recognition.  It was time to move on in my life perhaps to find out what was missing in me that I so desperately needed the recognition.

My mind stands still and I am at peace with my world, no longer struggling to be anybody but myself who I love best. Life is the most incredible journey, we are visitors here passing through so it is so important to do what we must to satisfy our existence.  I am comfortable with what I have achieved and who I am.  I have loved the experience of travelling but somehow that too is no longer important.  I have seen enough. My days are spent walking the dogs, enjoying the pleasure that they find in their life together with their many friends. I am back painting, but that is always a struggle because I can never get over being a perfectionist and that weighs me down. I stopped writing my book and that bothers me maybe I will start again, I don’t know.

John is busy doing what he loves doing, I don’t think he will ever retire and that is okay. When we are on our boat it too is magical and this year we will take little Tess out to sea.

Look forward to seeing you my dears, I have always felt close to you. You are our family. Love Jean, John, Benson and Tess send their love too!

 
Hi Laurie!

Greetings from New Orleans! What a city! Saw one of the first parades for the beginning of Mardi Gras last night. Quite a spectacle. Cheers, Patrizzio!  


Hi Patrick!

So nice to hear from you - Oh, to be at a Mardi Gras Parade, so jealous - It is foggy up here, but not pouring rain, so all is right with the world!

Hello to New Orleans and Slange var!  Laurie