And so it was time to say our goodbyes to Bonnaroo and drive off into the sunsets of the south. Linda and I had intended to leave Manchester for Memphis, but we took a wrong turn - there will be many more such turns - and so we headed for Birmingham, Alabama.
As filthy as we were after the Roo, we needed to find showers asap so we stopped at a truck stop along the way. Aparently, truck stops want you to pay $10 for a shower. It is my firm belief that showers are a human right, like fresh drinking water and civil union. Truckers however, like our new friend Mike, get free showers as rewards on their trucky/petrol cardy things. Mike had to hang around while his truck was getting registered or something something and so offered us one of his shower point things. Clearly we looked that revolting and disheveled that the man felt a little sorry for us.
Best. Shower. Ever. And I've had some good showers in my time but after a week of hot-smelly-Tennessee-camping-music-festival dirt, nothing could compare. It was then that I discovered that half of my awesome tan was actually dirt as it scrubbed off. I do still have myself a fairly fantastic arm tan though. Finally, I actually look Australian.
Clean and shiny we were back on our way. The further south we got the harder I found it to understand people. Don't even ask me what the guy in the Birmingham laundry mat was saying. Even Linda couldn't understand him and she's from Kentucky.
Side note: Linda is from Louisville. She must have said "Louisville" like a hundred times to me and only now have I realised what she's been saying. I thought it started with a W.
Now I realise we arrived in Birmingham on a Monday night and we may have been in the business district, however, there ain't nothing in that place. We spent what felt like hours looking for somewhere to eat. There was nothing open and no one around. Eventually we found a Pizza Hut (that was about to close), stuffed ourselves with greasy, saturated fats then curled up in the van to sleep it off.
Day two and we made it to New Orleans! Sorry, I mean N'awlins.
Every thing from here on out was "hot as balls" as the loacls say. Luckily for us we were staying at a hostel with a pool. The water was so warm it was practically like taking a bath except with the germs of several Dutch boys and a whole bunch of Aussies floating around. Staying at the India House Hostel also reaffirmed what I have believed all along; The Australians are taking over. It is amazing how strong an Australian accent sounds when you haven't heard one in a while. Mate, we are bogans. But lovable bogans at very least.
Most of our time here was spent riding bikes through the French Quarter. That place certainly has personality. Makes me wish I was Tennessee Williams - minus the lobotmised sister and alcoholism- sitting on my balcony over looking the happenings on the street below.
I wish we could have stayed longer. I was interested in further exploring the damage that still remains from Katrina. Little bits of restoration seem to be everywhere, but The Quarter was barely effected. The severe damage occured further down the river where the levees broke. Those areas are apparently the lower income areas and so there is much rebuilding that still needs doing. Hurricane season starts next month and there is a strong belief that New Orleans will flood again someday. I'm not entirely sure how the levee system works, but apparently its not real strong in some places.
Its amazing that with all the destruction, the town has retained its character. The tourists are still flocking to Bourban Street, the musicians are still playing their bit of foot path, the titty-bars are still open for business AND you can still take your drinks anywhere in town.
Big Daddy's World Famous Love Acts
That was perhaps my favourite part of the place. The chaos that some how seems to function. You can buy a drink at one bar, walk around the streets and into another bar with the same drink! You can even go into gift shops or grocery stores with your drink. There are no crosswalks but people don't get run over. There are no laws about bike riding yet people bike everywhere. It really is a crazy, wonderful place.
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