Sand, sea and sand fleas in Sanibel

Before heading back to Titusville, we stopped at Sanibel Island to visit some dear friends of John's, Rich and Lani . After selling their spectacular house in Half Moon Bay, California- they bought an equally gorgeous house on Sanibel Island (on the gulf coast of Florida). We had a great time.

The only bad news- they took us to lunch at this cute little restaurant called the Mucky Duck. Since our table wasn't ready, they told us we could wait on the tables by the beach. What they didn't tell us was that the beach was infested with sand fleas. I woke up that night scratching my legs to bits....and that morning, woke to huge red welts all over my legs. The sand fleas had a great lunch as well.... For nights, I couldn't sleep at all- the itching was so bad.

Cajuns, Angola Prison and Sugar Cane

We had a week to make it back to Louisiana for a Cajun family get-together (we're the token Yankees). We had hoped to take a leisurely drive south, stopping in Memphis to pay homage to Elvis and drive down Highway 61 and see the blues joints....but wouldn't you know it, on Monday, the slider started acting up (making huge bangs when it extended/retracted and the motor wouldn't stop running). So, we decided that we had to make a return trip to the factory (John now calls this thing the "motor-homing pigeon"). So from NYC to Indiana- we drove non-stop for 2 days....got to the factory, they squeezed us in on Wednesday and on Thursday morning, we were back on the road- driving 1000 miles to get to Louisiana. What a ball-breaker!

We arrived exhausted, but ready for a party with the Cajuns. It still amazes us how well the Cajuns live. The generations all party together and they have such a wonderful sense of family and fun. This was a chance to meet all of Brenda's brothers and sisters, their kids, and a whole mess of other friends and family.

Once we recovered from the "Paarty", we were heading to the Angola Prison rodeo -truly something not to be missed. Angola Prison was the subject of the movie, "Dead Man Walking" and was known in the past as the prototype southern prison farm. The inmate profile is unique-- 76% black, 68% lifers (51% in for homicide), average age 38. It's Louisiana's only maximum security prison- and the largest in the US. All the physically able inmates are required to work- for 2 to 20 cents per hour- most in the prison's farming operation. They have a beef herd of 1,500 cattle and a license tag plant, silk screen shop, metal fabrication shop and a mattress and broom/mop factory. In the American tradition of living a Godly life, they have what they all "Faith Based Rehabilitation" complete with "Bible College". In addition to the prison facilities, they have a Museum and golf course.

Every year in October, the inmates have a rodeo. Before the rodeo, you get a chance to walk through the booths- manned by prisoners and their families- with food (great jambalaya and other heart clogging southern dishes) and crafts. The most difficult part of the exhibit was the craft area- where the inmates, behind barbed wire, sold their crafts to the public. The crafts were simple- mostly woodwork- plaques with Spiderman, Mickey Mouse figures on them, etc. They would talk through the barbed wire to prospective buyers and negotiate their prices. Then, family members would take the money and package the item. I only made it through one row and had to leave. It was all so sad.
(Photo from newsday.com)

But, the rodeo--what a sight! The prisoners actually built the 10,000 seat arena. They start with the Angola Rough Riders- the only prisoner precision riding team in the U.S. During the week, these "cowboys" work on the farm handling the horses and livestock. The events included the typical bull ride ("The Bust Out"), "Bareback Riding" on a bucking bronco, "Bull Dogging"- where the inmates try to wrestle a 500 pound calf to the ground.. But, unlike a typical rodeo, this one had events like the Wild Cow Milking (where inmates try to hang onto a rope tied to an angry cow long enough for one of them to milk the cow. John's favorite was "Convict Poker" - four inmates sit at a table in the middle of the arena playing poker. A bull is released and, provoked by the clowns, attacks the table, The last man seated wins. The bulls went wild, throwing tables and inmates in the air. The grand finale was the "Guts and Glory"-- where they tie a poker chip between the horns of a huge, angry Brahma bull. The arena is filled with inmates (all in striped shirts). The object is to get close enough to snatch the chip from between its' horns. You have to be truly insane to even consider getting that close to an angry bull- but the chip is worth $500 to the inmate lucky enough to get it off without getting gored. For some amazing photos of this event, check out Rene Perez Photographs

The next day, another of our Cajun friends, Huey (the charming Cajun cowboy, who is the best dancer I have ever seen!) took us for a tour of his sugar plantation and then to the sugar mill where the raw sugar is processed. I got to ride in the combine as they were cutting the sugar cane (up close and personal with Huey's adorable young son).
Then it was off to the sugar mill. It was an amazing collection of huge machinery and since we were with Huey, one of the sugar farmers, we had full access to the entire factory...from cane delivery to the final product (and got to taste the raw sugar ready to be shipped for further processing). It was absolutely fascinating.

The rally was great fun. We danced our brains out (even though we had forgotten quite a few steps over the summer). We've got the Cajun waltz down - and can hold our own with the best of the Cajun dancers. The rest of the dances are still a bit rough....and John was quite a hit when he was dancing with Brenda to the tune of "Play that Funky Music White Boy". Since it was sweet potato harvesting time (sweet potato = American yam), they had a sweet potato baking contest and I was recruited as a judge. Little did I know that these women (and men) took the contest VERY seriously and I'm not sure I made any friends with the decision (fortunately, they had an outside home economist to lead the judging). It was amazing to see what they could do with sweet potatoes. My experience eating sweet potatoes has been the traditional sweet potato casserole we have in the north at Thanksgiving (mashed sweet potatoes baked and then covered with melted marshmallows). This contest had sweet potato tarts, sweet potato stuffing/dressing, sweet potato crunch and even a sweet potato cheese ball.

A wrong turn on the BQE

We had a great time in NYC--we got to see Steph and Brett both in the city and at our campground in Long Island. They're doing really well- and we had some great dinners in the city (although the sticker shock at $13.00 martinis and $9.00 glasses of wine is still with us! Can't wait to see our VISA bill next month) We enjoyed being in Long Island (home to "the Hamptons" and the all of the NYC summer get-away beaches. Although, we were on the more full-time residential end of the island- in a community mostly made up of Jews and Hispanics! John found the local bagel shop when searching for the NY Times in the morning- and I can tell you for a fact- you haven't tasted bagels until you try a Long Island toasted bagel with cream cheese. They do know how to make bagels. Needless to say, the diet wasn't on for a few weeks.

We had an interesting experience leaving NY. In order to get from our campground in Long Island to New Jersey, we had to cross Long Island, Brooklyn and Queens. The network of roads in the NYC area is a combination of parkways (NO trucks or RV's- with bridge clearances under 11 feet) and expressways. You have to be very aware of this when driving a 12 foot high RV. So, we were very careful about our return route. We headed across the Long Island Expressway- and the road was horribly old and twisty. We came to a split in the road with no obvious signage-so we took the route that looked to be a continuation of the Expressway....WRONG--we found ourselves headed to a bridge leading directly into lower Manhattan- with our 45 foot motorhome and VW in tow. At this point, I think John was ready to throw me out the window. We had no detailed maps of Manhattan - and no idea of what to do once we got there. We opted to make a U-turn and John was forced to go down these narrow NYC streets with the VW going over the curbs. We finally got back across the bridge and thought we were home free. Wrong again! We followed the signs for Highway 287 and found ourselves plopped in the middle of Brooklyn in a 5 way intersection with NO signs. The streets were teeming with Hassidic Jews (the ones with the long black coats, strange black hats and springy curls). Not having a clue what to do, we stopped in the middle of the street and John hailed one of the local Hassidics to ask for directions. But first, we had to get our terminology straight. While we had a highway number (287), the locals don't use numbers. So, we got this puzzled look - then a question, "Are you looking for the BQE?".... Now it was our turn to be puzzled...until we figured out that the BQE= the Brooklyn Queens Expressway. We got a long set of directions (right at the light, go down 4 blocks, turn left....) With no confidence in our ability to ever get out of Brooklyn, we headed out and somehow found our way back to the Expressway. After about 3 hours of silence, we finally realized how hilarious the situation was - and wished that we had the foresight to have gotten out to take a photo of John in the middle of Brooklyn asking a Hassidic Jew for directions. I guess it was what John's mother used to call "making memories".