Behold….The Bayou

I love to drive.  At home I have a little sports car that I enjoy whizzing about in and I really love driving fast.  When I travel I always come prepared with my driver’s licence and if the need (or want) arises I rent a car.  But I generally don’t do this very much.  I prefer not to have to think about driving in a strange environment and so will come to grips with public transportation pretty quickly so as to avoid stressing about the eccentricities which exist on different countries’ roads.  Also, when you settle bang in the centre of a big city I find that you have plenty to get on with around you without needing to go much further out.  But, there’s no doubt that you can miss out on interesting areas and views by not getting into a car and driving away from the hub of a city.

So, the best of both worlds presented itself yesterday when, my partner in crime from a couple of weekends ago returned to the Big Easy with a car and the generous offer of being the driver.  He suggested we head out of the city, via a scenic route, and have dinner somewhere random on the bayou.  Thus, yesterday afternoon we made our way out of New Orleans and drove towards Lake Pontchartrain.  Once we got past the expressway, and the chaos that implies for this European driver who is used to only being able to overtake in the fast lane but here cars fly past you on either side and you feel you could do with an extra pair of eyes to say nothing about the fact that in the US you are allowed to turn right at a pair of traffic lights even when the lights are RED!, the scenery became pretty and rural and vastly different to anything we’d left behind.

As soon as we came close to water we began to see pretty houses built on the water’s edge and raised on stilts.  Apparently, all this area was destroyed by Katrina and in the rebuilding all new houses had to be built on stilts to safeguard families in the event of high tides or worse in the future.  Small pleasure boats and cars live in the space beneath the houses and all of this area gave off a sense of calm to it.  We caught sight of several people fishing on the banks of the bayou and were lucky enough to see the whole area change colour quite dramatically as the sun set.

An oddity that we did catch a glimpse of when we took a wrong turn – always the TomTom’s fault – was a NASA facility in what appears the least likely location I could ever imagine for one.  It was just there!  In the middle of nowhere, with a rocket lying on its side as a welcome mat for the installation.

We eventually made our way to a small town called Slidell and found a restaurant to settle into.  We had tried another place before this one but, although serving drinks they wouldn’t feed us because it was Monday (!) – this was just a reminder of how far from the metropolis we were as research into the area had shown that several restaurants were closed because it was a Monday, something that you would just not see in the centre of New Orleans, for example.

As we walked into the restaurant we stopped for a second in the car park for me to photograph the setting sun backlighting the trees there.  The sky was gorgeous and herein lies part of the beauty of moving away from the city – you see more sky!  The town itself may not have been the most interesting but their piece of sky certainly could have won awards.

E x

Postcard from the Edge!

I really enjoy photography. I have no illusions; my snaps aren’t likely to be gracing the cover of any famous glossy publication but I can take a decent picture and I can live with that. When looking at the world through a camera’s lens you can have two types of views: the traditional postcard or a quirkier, more individual perspective. The latter tends to make for a more interesting picture, no doubt. But, here in Florence, you find yourself doing the postcard shots because you are faced with such beautiful vistas they almost become necessary.

Case in point was last night when I made my way to the Piazza Michelangelo which is on the edge of the rise of the hill on the south side of the Arno and which overlooks the historic district of the city.

I arrived at about half seven in the evening, while the sun still had bite, and took a range of photos of the bridges, Duomo, etc. Photos, I’m sure, that every tourist who’s stepped foot here has walked away with. But you just can’t NOT take them. The view is majestic and quite breathtaking. I then sat down in one of the open air bars, ordered a cocktail and waited for the sun to dip as I absorbed the panorama before me.

By half eight the sun was heavy and low and the light had changed to a hazy gold which gave everything a sepia like quality. Another round of photos followed.

I returned to my table to finish my drink and while I sat there I looked round me.  Amidst the bustle of the tourists, taxis, waiters and stall owners there was a small oasis of calm.  Yes, there in the middle of the Piazza stands Michelangelo’s most famous son, David.  A full size replica of the one in L’Accademia, this one cast in bronze rather than sculpted from white marble. Do you think he’s stalking me?  Or maybe I’m stalking him?    He watched over me as I sat on the edge.  I was a tad rude and avoided catching his eye so that I didn’t have to start a conversation with him.

As I sipped away I listened to the live band that was playing: Goo Goo Dolls’ “Iris” was especially good. This is purely a tourist oriented spot – I couldn’t hear much Italian around me and the number of cameras in evidence would have rivalled the number found being carried around by paparazzi chasing the latest media starlet. But it has its place because it allows those of us who are here for a short moment to etch in our minds an image of the whole city below. And the postcard photographs you take of the image you create in your mind’s eye, manage to suspend that moment in time for you. With views this good, it’s truly a postcard worth having.

E x