We roll into New Orleans in the evening, greeted by a lovely 24 degrees Celsius. Life is good. The next morning, though? Bam! Icy wind, 4 degrees. Definitely not what we have packed for.
New Orleans — the city that was hit so hard by a storm
The Hurricane Katrina in 2005 hit the city, then it lost much of its original charm and 1836 people lost their lives. It’s not exactly new that money pushes out poorer folks when neighborhoods suddenly become trendy. But here, it happened at lightning speed. For the people in the poorer parts of the city, it hit like a freight train. The whole city sits slightly below sea level, and when the water came, it stuck around for days… looting, no real rebuilding, and in the end, a city sold off piece by piece. Today? A hip tourist destination. Honestly, not really our thing. If you’re lucky, you can still catch a whiff of the old charm walking through the outskirts.
New Orleans – I have a certain image in my head. Famous for its warm, sensual, cheerful and slightly wicked atmosphere – a mixture of music, pleasure, joie de vivre and melancholy. Imagine narrow cobbled streets in the French Quarter with jazz trumpets, saxophones and the rhythmic stomping of feet on old wooden floors emanating from the open windows. It’s hot, the air sweltering, the fans turning in every room and on the verandas. On wrought-iron balconies, people sit laughing in flowing dresses and straw hats, sipping a glass of Sazerac or a cold beer.
Sazerac cocktail
The Sazerac is a classic cocktail, traditionally made with rye whiskey, absinthe, Peychaud’s bitters, and sugar. It’s considered one of the oldest known American cocktails and has its origins in New Orleans. Here, a culture of improvisation thrives: musicians gathering spontaneously on the street, colorful parades with people dancing in feathers and beads, wild masquerades, and the sense that life is short — so you’d better savor it now. But New Orleans is also soaked in a bittersweet heaviness: the old cobblestones whisper of the history of slavery, Hurricane Katrina still echoes as an open wound, and in the damp, sultry heat, there’s always a hint of transience.
New Orleans – the old spirit is gone
We experience none of that old spirit. Either that carefree spirit no longer exists, or it’s simply because we are greeted in this city by freezing temperatures and an icy wind. Well then, I suppose I’ll just stick with the fantasies in my mind — far more beautiful than reality.
Did I mention it’s freezing? We have a problem. I go on a mission to buy us gloves and long underwear — both for cycling and surviving the upcoming freezing nights in the tent. Florida, the Sunshine State, has promised us 14 days of arctic adventure with snow and freezing rain. Okay, deep breath: 14 days — we’ve survived worse.
After three nights in New Orleans, we’re back on the road. We opt for some “adventurous” routes — roads officially closed, but hey, the bike community says you can just lift your bikes over the barriers. So we do. It works! Boom, we skip a 280 km detour.
With no cars around, it’s blissfully quiet. Except… some folks have decided these roads make excellent illegal dumping grounds. Mountains of discarded junk line the way. Well, humans will be humans. We shake our heads, shrug, and pedal on.
That night, we camp in a spot clearly not designed for tents. No showers, no bathrooms — but the owner runs a laundromat, so at least we get a toilet and a sink.
We wake up to a thin layer of ice on the tent. The sun’s out, but it’s just decorative — no warmth. After three shivering nights, I call it: we need a room. Slowly, we defrost. Everyone keeps telling us this weather is totally unusual for Florida — gee, thanks.
Primitive Camping
Next night, we’re back at it, in a Florida state park. Here, they call it “primitive camping” — a silly term, really, I really think it’s the luxury kind of camping, but it means you’re allowed to wild camp inside the park. Five bucks per person, per night, and you get the legal right to pitch your tent plus a ranger’s friendly smile. We refill our bottles at the entrance and push our bikes a few hundred meters through the sand. I wish it weren’t so cold, because the scenery is breathtaking — dunes, trees, brilliant white sand.
Morning comes, and we’re so frozen we skip coffee (yes, really). We make a stop at a Waffle House — classic American breakfast, steaming coffee, and the kindest lady serving us with a smile. Heaven.
The days blur together: frost, icy roads, and stunning landscapes. State parks and Warmshowers hosts help us along, one step at a time, until we reach Tallahassee. There, we meet Klaus’ sister, visiting from Africa with her husband, Karl. Their visits are rare, but lucky us, our paths cross. We camp in the garage for a few nights and spend hours talking — absolutely wonderful.
Some quotes from Marc Twain
Meanwhile, I keep pondering what this whole traveling thing is really about. A few Mark Twain quotes cross my path.
Sure, his books were groundbreaking back in the day, though today they deserve a critical eye. Still, I love the fact that people like him have always been around — and always will be — people who don’t just accept the world as others tell them it is or should be.
I’m not usually a fan of quotes, but here are a few I can’t resist. Mark Twain blended humor, wisdom, and a certain art of living — and I like that.
On travel and prejudice: “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.”
On courage: “Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear — not absence of fear.”
On age: “Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”
On life in general: “Sometimes I wonder whether the world is being run by smart people who are putting us on, or by imbeciles who really mean it.”
Some extra fun fact. We are Germans. Germans love their bread. Being without any good bread for almost three years, we were so excited to find “Wasa Knäckebrot”, a very special and delicious crisp bread. And of course we bought one from each kind we could find.