Blue Bayou

My partner and crime and I are just back from Lousiana. There will be many posts covering various angles of why this is the most special part of the country. I will save oil rants for another day. "Oil in Nawlins...why, I won't think about that today, I'll think of it tomorrow....at Tara"
Anyhow, we ended our trip by visiting the Atchafalaya Swamp, Americas largest swamp. Having grown up near the dismal swamp, it surprises even myself to find such a place interesting, but I am willing to brave mosquitoes to lay eyes on the careless drapings of Spanish Moss, partake of the roots of the Bald Cypress and I might have the wrong impression, but as long as an Aligator is in the water and I on boat, they are adorable.
This becomes a bit of a travel review, but from New Orleans we took the river road (route 18) and passed all the antibellum sugar plantations of Lousiana with ancient oaks. A truck stop in the south is a surprisingly good meal, as there are not too many places to eat, follow the trucks, they know the roots, generally a sign saying DIESEL and FRIED CHICKEN OR FISH together means good food. The Great River Road lands you in Baton Rouge where Interstate I-10 becomes a beautiful ride, if one can say such things of an interstate. I-10 through these parts is a land bridge over the Bayou. It divides and joins in beautiful curves as your car rolls over the rythmic concrete slabs that are the bridge. If you take this tour, be sure to listen to WWOZ 90.7, New Orleans heartbeat to music for as long as you can pick it up.
We had a crestfallen moment when we arrived for the arranged private airboat swamp tour at McGhees to find after our journey it was cancelled for lack of boats. But partner in crime and I, hereto referred to as PIC, have strange look, generally when something bad happens, it is for our own good, while it seems bad at the time.
We found another place down the street, Atchafalaya Basin Tours, who had things far more together, and houseboats to boot! What we found was beauty and in lieu of 'squitoes, dragonflies galore!
If I were to travel there again, I would face my Cape Fear fears and spend the night and hope De Niro did not come out of the swamp after me. Instead we left and followed good advice to Crawfish USA. Crawfish USA is the equivalent to a German Beer Garden for the South. In a barn like building, they offer boiled (pronounced "bawled" in these parts) seafood, atleast, they do while there is still some left. Tomorrow is another day, today I post the beatitudes of the South, tomorrow the evils of Corporate Control on our Government and their effect on a cultural pulse of America.