The Long Way Home

I began writing this blog entry in mid-April from the floor of our empty apartment in Minneapolis, and kept postponing writing it until I felt that I could provide some closing words of wisdom on the meaning of our travels. As you can imagine, this proved difficult for more than one reason. Writing the final blog post means coming to terms with the end of travelling (at least for the moment), it means conveying in an eloquent way the decision to return to Minnesota, and insightful comments on how I have changed through my experience. At this moment in time, I cannot provide those to you, my dear reader. Because I do not even know them myself. I will, however, tell you all about our Long Way Home.

We left sunny Texas in Early April, headed for home the long way through New Orleans, and Asheville, North Carolina. We had one day in NOLA and spent it on a classic tour starting with two orders of french beignets and coffee at the Cafe du Monde. We caught the trolley to ride across town and see the above ground cemeteries, ate fried alligator and catfish po' boys while drinking cold beer on a patio, shopped in vintage stores, walked along the Mississippi, and heard jazz drifting through the streets all night. In the morning we took off driving again, and ended our night camping somewhere in the woods of Alabama (only $3 a night for a campsite!) and listened as hail pounded the aluminum topper of the truck- while we remained miraculously dry as the storm passed overhead.

French beignets (puffy fried dough)

 


 

Above ground cemetary

Alabama camp site