Louisiana: Lafayette, Baton Rouge, New Orleans and farewell USA

Each time I crossed a state line in the USA there seemed to be a marked difference in the quality of the roads. Some states clearly took pride in the upkeep of their roads while others had different priorities for their funds. While Mississippi highways were wide, tree-lined and green, Louisiana's were simple, gravel-lined and took their toll on my little wheels. The final stretch of Highway 61 in Louisiana heads down towards New Orleans through plantation country, and I popped in on a couple of old plantations to see the Antebellum style houses which remained in this area.

'The Myrtles', a 20-bedroomed plantation home built in 1796 on a Spanish Land Grant. 

Home of the famed Gen. David Bradford, leader of the Whisky Rebellion

Louisiana felt perpetually muggy, like the late-afternoon stickiness before an evening storm so familiar to me from Sydney's summers. It seems different from the other states I visited in that there is a strange mixture of influences: French, Spanish, West African, Native American – the food, the architecture, the language and the lifestyle all reflect this confluence of cultures. Time has also had an effect – though the state was a French colony and French is the most widely-spoken language, its course diverged from that of France 400 years ago, and evolved separately to Europe. The language more closely resembles that of Arcadian Canada than France itself. The Creole and Cajun cultures add to Louisiana's eclectic multicultural and multilingual vibe, most colourfully and beautifully realised in New Orleans iteself.

Shortly after the Miss-Lou border I visited a quaint little town called St Francisville, which has several historic buildings. I loved seeing the architecture from the late 1800s and early 1900s, especially the brightly painted wooden homes with their ornate balconies and fancy wrought ironwork. It amused me to visit the Catholic Church of Mount Carmel and the Mount Carmel Cemetery too. As I wandered through the cemetery I saw a gravestone dedicated to unborn babies. My initial response of 'isn't that lovely and thoughtful' soon changed as I drew near and realised it was another piece of anti-abortion propaganda. Despite being in an area which feels European I should remember that I am still in the conservative Deep South of America.

United Methodist church, est 1844

Porch kitty

Former Republic of West Florida

'Serendipity', double galleried frame house circa 1895. 

Gable pediment decorated with Queen Anne fish scale shingles.

The wrought-iron balconies look like cats

'Hillcroft', imposing town house build 1905

'Corner Cottage', mid-1800s

Our Lady of Mount Carmel, built 1871

Old burying ground, established by 18th century Capuchin Friars

Baton Rouge was a stark contrast to the delicate quaintness of St Francisville and the impressive, regal plantation homes. The capital of Louisiana, it is a major industrial city. On my arrival late at night the huge chemical works on the city's outskirts greeted me with their looming, ethereal splendour. I stayed in a rather dull suburb of identical grey bungalows on wide, quiet streets, and used my time here to get on top of admin before leaving the US. I went running every evening, posted excess baggage onwards to Europe, did some freelance writing work, got seriously stuck in to my Spanish audio course and did lots of onward travel planning. Not exactly blog-worthy but a good use of my time nonetheless.

Cat teapot in Airbnb room

Ceiling of Louisiana State Capitol

Old Art Deco state capitol

The Pelican is the state bird of Louisiana, carved into the walls of the Capitol

Pelican by the doors of the Capitol

More cat teapots

As well as a little sightseeing in Baton Rouge itself I headed out to Lafayette one day to a free World Music festival which I had heard about from the folk musicians I met in Jackson. They had waxed lyrical about its Francophone music and brilliant atmosphere so I drove the hour from Baton Rouge to check it out. The drive was along a large highway held up with giant concrete stilts over the magnificent Atchafalaya Wetlands, the largest swamp in the United States. The wetlands stretched out to my right and left, with trees occasionally poking their tops through the water and huge telegraph poles planted firmly in the swamp itself to take electricity across Louisiana. Once I arrived at the Festival International de Louisiane I wandered round, soaking up the atmosphere and listening to the bands. I had my first taste of proper Louisiana gumbo, the first of many delicious Cajun dishes in the South. I marvelled at the bilingual road signs, window shopped at the festival market stalls and purchased my one and only piece of art in the US, a fabulous painting of a bunch of stocky Southern bikers carving up a pig at an annual pork meat festival. I'm not sure why I was drawn to the painting but it really spoke to me and I felt it evoked much about my time here in the South.

Bad photo of wetlands

Here at the festival I had probably my worst travel experience to date, but one which I learnt a lot from and which I'm kind of glad I experienced before leaving the US. Lulled into a sense of security by my recent positive encounters with strangers, I was friendly when a young guy from New York struck up a conversation with me while watching a band. We chatted for a while and he presented me with a beer from his backpack, which I reluctantly accepted (I knew I had to drive back to Baton Rouge so hadn't been keen on drinking at the festival). As our conversation went on I realised that he was a thoroughly unlikeable chap and not someone I'd wish to spend more time with. But he was really hard to shake! Every time I made my excuses to leave he'd tag along and became more and more aggressive in his insistence that we stuck together at the festival. I am not naturally confrontational so found it difficult to insist on leaving. We went to a cafe and while I was trying to find an excuse to leave he bought me another drink, explicitly against my wishes. I really didn't like his demeanour or attitude at all. And then I felt an extremely strange sensation cursing through my body, down to my toes and my fingertips, and I couldn't see properly and felt very light-headed. I realised that he must have spiked my beer while I was watching one of the bands. The cans had been sat on the ground behind us and he was a decidedly shady character so I absolutely believed he was capable of this. Confronting him and leaving him in the cafe was one of the hardest things I've ever done – but in retrospect it's really difficult to understand why I hadn't managed to shake this loser earlier! I went to the police and told them I'd had my drink spiked, and was taken to the Ambulance tent. The staff were lovely and I remained there for some time while I tried to calm down and recover enough to drive home. Luckily I had realised what was happening before I had drunk too much of the aforementioned drink, and so had thrown the rest away. My blood pressure returned to normal after almost an hour and I shakily drove the hour back to Baton Rouge. A cursory google of the guy later revealed he was indeed not to be trusted, and had been arrested for assault on a number of prior occasions. A lesson learnt, I feel. Yes, I've met some incredible people while travelling, and some of the best days have been when I've followed my nose or struck up great conversations with total strangers, but that doesn't mean I can let my guard down. Travelling alone as a girl means you have to keep your wits about you, and I have now renewed my sense of alertness and caution in time for my travels in South America.

Despite this minor incident, I still remained positive for my final few days in the US. Instead of following the Highway 61 directly down to New Orleans I decided to take the much longer Great River Road, following the Mississippi all the way and enjoying the scenery. Great plains and levees were the backdrop for an eclectic bunch of sights. Trailer parks, beautiful plantation mansions, derelict houses, small working towns and beautiful gardens were interspersed with huge, ugly industrial plants in various hues spitting out trucks onto the single-lane highway. The road was too narrow and windy for me to take photos, but each turn brought another astonishing sight! At one stage I got caught up in the School Bus run, with many traditional yellow school buses pulling out onto the road to take the kids home from school. The speed limit immediately slowed and the traffic religiously obeyed the stop signs when children disembarked. It filled me with glee to be a small part of this daily American ritual.

 Stunning plantation home

Stopping behind a school bus

And then, New Orleans. Ah, wonderful, wonderful New Orleans! Within five minutes I fell in love with this town. I was staying in a gorgeous part of the city, Carrolton, in a fabulous Airbnb place owned by a lovely local character who liked to fill her house with interesting people. The ethos of the place was perfect, and I didn't mind sharing a room for the duration of my time here, in order to have fab conversations with the other guests staying at the house. After dumping my backpack I explored the local suburb to find vintage stores, lovely cafes and a funky street party in full swing – I immediately felt at home and had a big grin on my face the whole time I was in NOLA.

My NOLA house

My NOLA wheels

Horses on the railings

The French Quarter is the famous area where you feel as though you've gone back in time to an 18th-century Europe. With avenues lined with dingy jazz-clubs this is the best place to be at night. I enjoyed a couple of evenings keeping a barstool warm at the Spotted Cat Jazz Club, making new friends and watching some fabulous earthy blues bands. I visited the building where William Faulkner wrote his first novel, rode through streets frequented by some of my favourite writers, wandered through parks, stumbled upon ridiculously talented street horn ensembles and generally wished I had more than four days in this wonderful city.

Only in a jazz club is there a piano in the toilet

Coopers on the menu!

The Last Supper

I had timed my visit to New Orleans to coincide with the Jazz Festival, the famous annual festival of jazz, blues, folk and much more fabulous music. The line-up was amazing, but I only had enough time and money to allow myself one day at the two-week event. But I knew that the atmosphere and schedule would be enough to make it feel worth it. On a gloriously sunny New Orleans day I borrowed my host's pink cruiser fixie bicycle and headed across town to the festival. Luckily NOLA is predominantly flat and I enjoyed snapping pics from the saddle of my bike while navigating the streets to the festival grounds. Reminiscent of Glasto or Byron Bay Bluesfest, the festival was all I'd hoped for and more. The bands were great, a few new discoveries; the stalls were interesting – many featuring local indigenous artisans; the food was fabulous, pulled pork po'boy for lunch; the vibe was chilled out, and I made friends with many of my fellow festivalgoers. There's something so wonderful about laying in a field in the afternoon sunshine listening to great music and being surrounded by fellow music lovers. As I went to collect my bike from the bike park to head home, the woman who had been watching the bikes said 'see you tomorrow'. When I explained I was only at the festival for one day she said 'well you need a hug goodbye then' and gave me a big friendly hug. In fact, as I rode towards the French Quarter on this early evening, it was as though New Orleans' population was conspiring to make me weep with joy and regret my imminent departure. No matter who I passed, whether they were simply sitting out on their porches, riding in the opposite direction or walking along, they'd call out 'how are you doin'?' and smile and wave. I don't know if it was simply the festival atmosphere or if this is just how people in NOLA roll (I suspect the latter) but I was filled with the realisation that this is truly the essence of humanity. Slow down, be friendly, care for your fellow human beings. Travelling alone, these little human interactions become vital and are imbued with greater meaning than when you are at home among friends. These small connections sustain you from one day to the next. And my few brief days in New Orleans were a fitting finale to my four months in the USA. They filled me with the joys and happiness of travelling, of North America, of humanity, and made me want to come back for another visit as soon as possible.

Painting at the side of the stage

Festival bike park

Festival food options

Sensational pulled pork po'boy

Riding home from the festival

New Orleans streets

Louis Armstrong Park

Street band

Gumbo shop

Faulkner House

FAREWELL USA

So, after a final meal of ribs, 'slaw and beans with my new French and Belgian friends, the time has come to drive my battered little Toyota Yaris to the airport and board the plane to Mexico City. I've clocked up more than 3,000 miles in this little car, and a fair number of insects met with their demise on my windscreen, so it is an emotional farewell. 4 months, 11 states, 33 different beds, thousands of miles – as you can tell from my blog posts so far I've thoroughly enjoyed my time in the US of A and will definitely be back to visit some more of this amazing country. Thanks so much to everyone who put me up in their homes, especially those who hadn't seen me for more than 10 years or had never even met me before! I wanted to do a little USA wrap post but instead I think I'll just list a few observations I have made along the way.

States I visited

Washington, Oregon, California, Nevada, Arizona, Texas, North Carolina, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana.

Driving

I feel as though I truly learned to drive here in the USA, and adjusting back to driving on the left in Australia/the UK will be interesting! It was probably the best place for me to get my driving practice as the roads are pretty chilled out and everyone generally sticks to the road rules (except for in LA where it's crazy!). Plus, the pedestrian is king.

• 4-way stops – these seem to me to be ridiculous. Build a roundabout! Everyone's so polite and I'm surprised there aren't more accidents
• Navigating in new cities in the dark when it's raining and my GPS is broken is pretty challenging
• I have a surprisingly good sense of direction and memory for routes, which I thoroughly tested when my GPS broke
• I have 'driver's tan' on my left arm so need to even it out in Australia
• Windy mountain roads and unsealed roads to trailheads require a lot of concentration
• I have become adept at swift U-turns when I'm lost or took an incorrect turn
• North Americans tend to put their signage right on the turnoff, meaning you either have to test your brakes or miss the turning. Road signs are also usually in teeny weeny point sizes
• Many people throw their trash out of their car windows and companies sponsor people to pick up litter along stretches of road

Random roadside flea market

Abandoned gas stations are everywhere

Suspended lights

Food

• North Americans like sugar. It's in everything. Even things which shouldn't ordinarily contain sugar
• The combination of this sugar plus deep fried Southern food and the humongous portion sizes have taken their toll. Travelling gives you less control over what you eat as you rarely cook for yourself. Good job I brought stretchy no-crease clothing with me!
• I've also had some of the most incredible food of my life here, especially in the South. Yummo
• I miss seafood
• An 'appetiser' is a starter and an 'entree' is a main course
• Bacon is a condiment
• Cheese is in everything
• 'Salad' is really iceberg lettuce
• Portion sizes are designed for you to take half of your meal home in a box. That's tomorrow's lunch sorted!
• I totally gave up on expecting to find a decent coffee
• A 'from scratch' restaurant is often a novelty

Crawfish salad

Signs along the way

• Before nearly every bridge there is a sign saying 'Bridge may ice before road'
• 'Crawfish live or boiled'
• 'Yes we sell Pecans'
• 'Sundies, malts, coke'
• 'Don't text and drive'
• 'Zumba 6.45pm, happy new year!'
• 'Boiled crab, all you can eat'
• '2nd annual shitz and giggles poker night'
• 'John 3.16'
• 'Jesus: saviour, friend, great physician'
• 'State Penitentiary area: Emergency stopping only'

Many roadside signs are like this

General

• Streets in North American cities often have the same names. There's always a Pearl St, a Dr Martin Luther King Jr Street/Drive/Avenue, a Jefferson Street etc. This can get confusing.
• The plumbing in this country leaves a lot to be desired
• Generally in cafes and restaurants people were super-cool about me having a table for one. This felt quite unusual but lovely as a solo traveller
• 'Downtown' is dead on a Saturday
• I will really miss being called 'ma'am'. Made me feel all special!