Southern Louisiana is a good place to go when it’s cold up here. I spent part of last January there, specifically in the Cajun country around Lafayette. Just so happens, that’s where my first travel-writing assignment took me in November of 1991.
On that earlier trip, I met an executive of Tabasco at the company headquarters in Avery Island.
“So you’re from the baiduhai,” he said. “That’s a daily, isn’t it?”
People going down there should expect a little hot-pepper sauce and gentle sass, because that’s the way some folks cope with hard times.
Anyway, the year I’m reviewing–2006–started out with shrimp, crawfish, gumbo, jambalaya, Cajun music and deja vu.
On a damp, cloudy Saturday morning in Eunice, I found the Savoy Music Center pretty much as I remembered it. Accordions, violins and guitars pumped out traditional Cajun airs in the main section of the store for an audience sitting on folding chairs or dancing the two-step around the edges.
Still morning, and a Cajun band played for a two-stepping, beer-drinking crowd at Famous Fred’s Lounge in Mamou. People overflowed into the street, and I caught the scent of steaming crawfish, breakfast of champions.
I was pleased to see that at least one part of southern Louisiana could wake up with a smile and a song to defy the damage inflicted on neighbors and themselves by Katrina, Rita and clueless politicians.
When the weather turned warm in the northern latitudes, I headed for Croatia and a motor-coach tour of the Dalmatian Coast–with a quick peek at Slovenia. One night in that country, two of my fellow passengers set off to find a mess of cevapcici, or spicy meatballs. And, as often happens, I kept exploring the wonderful little village of Bled, until it was too late to grab anything but a plate of grilled squid.
Croatia’s long Aegean coastline reflects an Italian influence, not only in food but also in style. Little seaside villages and resort towns resembled places on the outskirts of Naples. Split felt like a corner of Siena, Italy–its maze of streets and promenades filled with people out to see and be seen.
But old Dubrovnik, surrounded as it is by a massive medieval wall, had a unique personality. No vehicles are allowed inside the ramparts, which meant long, intriguing walks along narrow alleyways and quiet evenings after the crowds returned to their ocean liners.
During high season, Dubrovnik in daytime fills up with people bused there from the cruise docks.
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“Oh, it’s so touristy,” said an acquaintance. I nodded to be agreeable, but we were getting off a motor coach ourselves and about to follow a tour guide of our own.
I thought about that old dichotomy of travel writing: We describe places, and maybe our descriptions entice more people to go there, and then those places are “spoiled” for the travelers who follow.
But the truth is that the writers follow too. I was on the Croatia-Slovenia guided tour precisely because so many people seem to enjoy that kind of vacation, and we felt duty-bound to report on the experience for those who might wonder what it’s like to ride the bus.
Call me a rube, but I mostly enjoyed that experience. Travel agencies and Web sites from Australia to the U.S. to England brought us together at a hotel in suburban Dubrovnik. And our bus proceeded from there. The passengers all were smart, well-informed, curious and cooperative. We covered the age spectrum from 13 to 80-plus, and the whole operation ran smoothly. This wasn’t anything like grandma’s weekend jaunts to Branson.
Most of the passengers had scheduled extra days to explore some of the destinations more thoroughly. I did that at the beginning of the tour in Dubrovnik and again at the end in Zagreb, the capital.
Zagreb turned out to be a fine example of an old European city with block after block of Beaux Arts, Gothic, neo-classic and neo-Renaissance buildings, as well as a nicely preserved and renovated medieval section. Of course, you had to squint a little and look past the graffiti, but a lot of European towns suffer that means of expression.
According to a certain kind of travel-journalism logic, I then traveled to Lyon, France. Why is a trip from Zagreb to Lyon logical, you ask?
I’ll explain. Several weeks earlier, staff photographer Bill Hogan was about to leave for an assignment in Milan. Before going, Hogan asked if we could use his services anywhere nearby. Our editor determined that Lyon stood fairly close to Milan and Zagreb both. Same general latitude, anyway. We hadn’t reported on Lyon in quite awhile, so Hogan went there after finishing his work in Milan and took photos for the Travel Section. I showed up in Lyon a few weeks later and researched an article to go with the pictures.
The results of that project have yet to be published. So there’s at least one thing you can look forward to during the dreary months ahead.
After awhile, in August, the editor sent me to Bermuda. Yep, travel-journalism logic again. If we go before Labor Day, went the thinking, we get to take United’s non-stop flight from O’Hare to Bermuda. I would describe what it’s like (a row to ourselves for the wife and me) in case United decides to do it again next summer.
Bermuda proved to be terribly hot that time of year, but natives said the heat was abnormal and, anyway, just have a rum swizzle and a dip in the ocean and forget about it.
Unfortunately, travel writing often means watching vacationers enjoying their umbrella drinks and beach toys while scribbling in a sweat-stained notebook. That’s what we do, logically enough.
An ocean dip wouldn’t have helped in Omaha, equally hot and even more humid than Bermuda. But I liked the town, and it had enough air-conditioned art galleries, boutiques and restaurants to keep me from melting away.
In fact, I liked all the towns that occupied most of my summer. This stemmed partly from curiosity and partly from our need to write frequently about destinations in the Midwest for those who won’t stray far from home. I have been to Cuzco in Peru, Alice Springs in Australia, the aforementioned Siena and a lot of other exotic cities. But in all these years, I had never visited Omaha, Des Moines, Columbus (Ohio) or Toledo.
I hit Des Moines first and stumbled into a rockin’ farmers market that went on and on for blocks with street musicians and a big brass band. They also threw a beer party at the zoo, and I caught a game between the Des Moines Cubs and the Albuquerque Isotopes. (Cubbies win!) That made for a surprisingly entertaining weekend.
Columbus: A lively arts and entertainment scene stands near that huge university. And the football!!!
Toledo: The art museum alone makes the trip worthwhile, and the downtown waterfront scene has definite possibilities.
Omaha: Boys and Girls Town is a must-see, and the Old Market district suggests a city that (almost) never sleeps.
Des Moines: One more thing: Hip townhouses are proliferating near the regal state Capitol.
Long stories short: All the cities on the list did their metropolitan best to serve up most of the things a good city provides. I saw great art, heard good music, ate some wonderful food and wandered through a lot of offbeat urban neighborhoods.
Travel-writing logic also means spending time at the office writing about destinations visited the year before or weeks in the past. I was involved with that kind of activity when duty beckoned me to the Turks & Caicos.
Hmmm. Not a bad way to top off the travel in 2006, I figured. This would be a trip to the Caribbean just when we really could use the warmth. Wife Juju and I packed our shorts and bathing suits–plus notebooks, cameras and other travel-writing paraphernalia.
As you’d expect, the ocean was turquoise, the beaches powdery, the water clear as gin, the air balmy, the natives friendly and the coconut trees majestic. More on that down the road. Minus the cliches, I hope.
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Robert Cross–Bob to you–will try to stay out of the office for considerably longer periods of time in 2007. He can be reached at [email protected]
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