Strolling through the Cities of the Dead with the Mary Poppins of dead people isn’t as creepy as it sounds, I swear. But it does make the city come alive in ways you’ve never imagined. Continue reading →
According to Cajun legend, deep in the Louisiana Swamp is the Rougarou — a large, werewolf-like half-man, half-beast creature who preys on people who venture too far into its terrain.
Photo (modified) by Angie Garrett/Flickr. Design by Lauren DeLuca for Yahoo Travel.
Regarding this legendary beast, History.com says, “The Cajun legend of the Rougarou can take on multiple forms. Originally derived from French stories of the ‘loup-garu,’ or ‘wolf man,’ the monster is most commonly described as a bayou-dwelling werewolf with glowing red eyes and razor-sharp teeth. The beast is usually said to be a cursed man who must shed another’s blood in order to break its spell and reassume human form, but the tale varies according to the teller. In some versions, the Rougarou can turn its victims just by locking eyes with them; in others, it takes the form of a dog or pig rather than a wolf. Still others paint it as a shape shifter that can assume different human and animal forms at will. Because it can switch its appearance so easily, some even conflate the creature with the legendary Skunk Ape of southeastern U.S. swamp lore. In most Louisiana parishes, the Rougarou myth is employed as a kind of cautionary tale. Children are told that the fiend will come for them if they don’t behave, and Catholics are warned that it hunts down those who break Lent.”
A rougarou on display at the Audubon Zoo in New Orleans. (Photo: praline3001/Flickr)
Since I was in that neck of the woods, I decided to try and see it for myself and check out another supposedly tall tale — the ginormous DinoGator, an alligator that measures up to 50 feet long. Think Lake Placid on steroids.
I love Americana. The Big Ball of String versus the Largest Ball of Twine? Yes please! Every state has its oddities and awesomeness. Texas has The Beer Can House in Houston, Washington has the ginormous Milk Bottles in Spokane, California has the Cabazon Dinosaur statues, Oregon has the largest Paul Bunyon statue and Louisiana has… the Abita Mystery House.
On the road from New Orleans, LA, to Biloxi, MS, is the small town of Abita Springs, where John Preble set up his popular and odd roadside attraction, the Abita Mystery House.
The entry to the Abita Mystery House.
Open for over 15 years, the “Mystery House” – also known as the UCM Museum, is a maze of buildings, starting with a vintage gas station (now a gift shop – more on that later), a hot sauce house that is home to every kind of hot sauce in the world (supposedly), and an exhibition hall which houses miniature small town scenes that poke fun at traditional Southern life including Mardi Gras parades, UFO landings, alligator wrestlers, Carnivals and more.
But the real precious items are in the House of Shards – where real live carnival exhibits, once seen on the road and believed by millions to be genuine artifacts are on display.
The original Merman!
Mixed in with a huge “Bassigator” (a fearsome looking half bass, half alligator animal that needs to appear in a SciFi movie stat), and a “real life UFO landing!” that consists of an airstream trailer with aliens plotting world destruction on the inside, are the old time fortune telling booths. Pop in a quarter and you get your fortune – which usually exhorts you to spend more money, naturally.
When many people think of Hurricane Katrina, they think of New Orleans — but the Big Easy wasn’t the only place devastated by the storm. Ten years ago, right as the hurricane came ashore, it made a sharp right turn and headed straight for the Mississippi Gulf Coast — plowing into towns like Pass Christian, Ocean Springs, and Biloxi.
Few people in Ocean Springs, Miss., expected Katrina to be so strong.
Donna Brown, the hero of Ocean Springs, Mississippi. Photo: Mario Framingheddu.
“We’d lived through other hurricanes before,” Donna Brown, the manager of the Gulf Hills Hotel, said. “But, as the hotel is on high ground, we always were full during the storm alerts from neighbors. Every room was full that night. But nobody expected it to be as bad as it was.”
The Gulf Hills Hotel, which housed over 300 people after Hurricane Katrina. During the storm, the entire golf course and everything surrounding the hotel — with the exception of the hotel itself — were underwater. (Photo: Courtesy of Gulf Hills Hotel)
As the water started to rise, Brown ordered everybody inside. During the major surge — with a wall of water coming toward the hotel and everything surrounded — she saw a family struggling to survive.
“It was a family from down the hill,” Brown said. “Four elderly adults and two dogs in a small boat. One man was trying to lead the boat, the dogs were in the boat, and the others were hanging off the boat.”
Brown quickly organized a human chain and dragged the people to safety.
“They stayed with us for months,” Brown said.
The banquet hall normally hosted weddings, but more than 120 people slept on its floor for over three months after Katrina. People slept on old blankets at first, until Walmart donated pallets and cots. Because it wasn’t a designated shelter, the Red Cross and government agencies wouldn’t donate supplies. (Photo: Courtesy of Gulf Hills Hotel)
Tucked away in the Lower Ninth Ward, just blocks from where the levee broke, is a unique museum, even for New Orleans. Located in a building in the back of 1317 Tupelo Street is the House of Dance & Feathers — a rough-and-tumble museum dedicated to the Mardi Gras Indian tribes. Founded by Ronald Lewis, the head of the Choctaws, the museum is full of feathered headdresses, intricately beaded chest plates, glittery costumes and, in the corner, a case of water worn shoes, that, despite the wear, still hold their fabulousness.
“Those were my shoes that were all ruined by Katrina,” Lewis said. “Ostrich, alligator — thousands of dollars of my good shoes just ruined. I used to wear them during the parades, but now I place them there to remind people of what was lost. They’re still too nice to throw away.”
Lewis hand-beaded this chest plate and saved it from Katrina.
Ten years ago when Katrina hit, Lewis’ home and museum were covered in flood waters.
“I lost pretty much everything that I didn’t take with me,” he said. “I grabbed these beaded works and a few other things, and my wife and I fled. When I came back it was all gone.”
Lewis and his wife spent almost a year with family in Thibideaux, La., before coming back to New Orleans and rebuilding from the ground up — with help from “the great people of America.” Lewis, like many families in the Ninth Ward, didn’t receive direct compensation from the government or the Red Cross. “Fortunately, I was on NPR and so donations came in,” he said. “Don’t get me started on the government ‘funds’ or the Red Cross.” He shakes his head. “I don’t like to dwell on bad feelings.”
Just last month, Lewis finally put the finishing touches on his house and museum.
Ronald outside his museum. (Photo: House of Dance & Feathers)
“I’m trying to keep this culture alive. It started in slavery, when the slaves were allowed out on Sundays — the only day they could congregate — to Congo square and they would beat the drums with the Indians. We learned form the Indians and started our own tribes — which march in Mardi Gras and in weekly parades from September to May.”
It’s not easy to introduce the king of restaurants, chef Eric Ripert, to a Puerto Rico seafood shack he’s never heard of. The restauranteur and host of the Cooking Channel show “Avec Eric” is married to a Puerto Rican (my pal Sondra) and has visited the island at least three times a year for the past 20 years. But I did it. (!!)
Eric was shooting his show in Puerto Rico and called to see if I wanted to come down and learn to surf. Obviously, I said (HECK) yes.
We met up at his hotel, the Condado Vanderbilt (as opposed to my hotel — the Courtyard Marriott), and when I found out he hadn’t been to my favorite food shack, Tresbe, I was shocked. Floored, even.
*Weird editor’s note: There are times in traveling when you think no one is around. Someone asks you to do something like, say, sing on top of a piano in a bar and you think, “Why not? I’ll never see any of these people again?” And then you… do. I hadn’t seen Eric in a while — but he’d seen me. A few years back, while in Hanoi, Vietnam, I’d been invited out by a couple communist officials who wanted to play a joke on the American — by taking me to lunch where only hard alcohol was served and instead of water there was beer. Little did they know I was raised on and below the Mason Dixon Line. Six hours later, not unlike that scene in “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” they were on the floor and I was at the bar of the Sofiftel Metropole Hotel belting out show tunes. Apparently, Eric was shooting a show there at the time, was walking through and …
“Hey, I saw you!” he said. “I was so dirty — I had been out in the fields all day so I thought, ‘I will go change and come down, but then I fell asleep. You were having so much fun and entertaining the room.’”
I’ll admit it: I was a little late to the Puerto Rico game. Thankfully, due to Snowmageddon this year, I finally cottoned on to our cousin in the Caribbean. Now that I’ve drunk the Kool-Aid, I’m bound and determined to get everyone there — if only so that when people ask me, “Where should I go for a quick, easy, cheap getaway?” (this happens all the time) I can point them to this article.
Here are five reasons you really should go now.
1. It’s cheap and easy.
Most major airlines fly there, including JetBlue, and the price of a ticket can be up to $200 cheaper than a flight to Miami. Bonus: If you live on the East Coast, it’s quick. From JFK airport, for example, it’s only three and a half hours to San Juan, which is just slightly longer than a flight to Miami.
The hotels in San Juan are some of the chicest I’ve ever seen. Jennifer Lopez stayed at Hotel El Convento — the Chateau Marmont of the Caribbean, located in the heart of the Old City — which has weekend rates starting at less than $500 a night. If you want to bump up the price a bit, check out theCondado Vanderbilt. The recently refurbished hotel was built in 1912 by Frederick William Vanderbilt in a Spanish revival style, and has been the height of luxury ever since. Rates start at around $300 a night — expensive, but still a fraction of the cost of a luxury hotel in Miami.
3. History, history, history!
While the beach is nice, it’s even nicer that if you need a break, there’s actually something else to do. Puerto Rico’s forts and cathedrals date back to the 16th century, when Spain ruled the island.
Just a few hours away from New York City is a history lover’s dream: Old San Juan, Puerto Rico. Founded by the Spanish over 500 years ago, it’s a perfectly preserved time portal. Walk around Castillo San Felipe del Morro, the ancient Spanish fort that surrounds the old city. Inside the walls, ramble through narrow cobblestone streets and past the cathedral (where Jennifer Lopez married Marc Anthony) and pick up a piragua — a Puerto Rican snow cone that comes in flavors like passion fruit, mango, and tangerine.
Half the price of Miami and without the club music booming through the streets, Old San Juan is the perfect place to get away from it all — no passport required.
Just watch out for the pigeons. One of the most popular spots in the old city is Plaza de Armas, located up the hill from where the cruise ships park, it is the main point of entry to the old city for many tourists. It is also a pigeon mecca. Thousands of the birds flock there and, despite Puerto Rico having a large cat population, they waddle, sit, and roost unmolested. This would be fine if they also hadn’t gotten into the habit of hanging out, sitting and roosting on people. On any given day, tourists will throw breadcrumbs and turn into living pigeon trees. This is problematic for so, so many reasons, least of which is THEY ARE BASICALLY FLYING RATS! Do you know how many diseased pigeons carry? (answer: LOTS!). That and they have no sphincter muscles so the poop just flies at will. Enter that park at your own risk.
Old San Juan has absolutely everything you need for the perfect getaway. (Photo: ABA Staff)
Here’s everything you need to know to do the city properly.
Warning: From 11 a.m. to 3 p.m., the cruise ships hit and certain areas of the old city are packed with cruisers. Hit the shops before or after this time to avoid a massive headache.
Stay:Hotel El Convento, the Chateau Marmont of the Caribbean. Housed in a former convent, the rooms surround an inner terrace with huge trees. The rooftop pool offers some of the best views in the city, and the restaurant is legendary.
Shop: Ole Curiosidades. This famous hat store lets you get measured, pick your ribbon color, and walk out with a personally fitted, handmade Panama-style hat for around $70 — three times less than almost anywhere else in the world.
Rule No. 1 about eating while traveling is: If you want to eat well on the road, go where the locals go. And here’s another tip: Locals don’t spend $120 a pop at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Especially in Miami.
The thing about Miami is that it’s the home of South Beach, bikinis, and sky-high restaurant prices. But you don’t need to drop serious cash for amazing food. Check out the video above — I challenge you to not salivate! — and then check out the restaurants. Your taste buds will thank me. Trust!
There was so much good stuff on the menu, I couldn’t order just one sandwich… And yes, i ate it all. Photo: Andrew Rothschild.
Several weeks ago, Miss Universe pageant officials, naively or not, asked me if I wanted to come down for a few days for a Miss Congeniality-esque experience while the 88 women who had qualified from their respective countries got ready for the big night.
Of course I did.
Now, I am not exactly a pageant-type girl. I am small, I am prone to muffin top, and I shun high heels. But, in the search for new experiences, why not?
So I packed a bag and flew down with the A Broad Abroad crew to Doral, Florida, and primed myself for the Miss Universe Experience.
Day 1 was all about the look.
I showed up at the ballroom of the Trump Doral ready to represent the Galaxy of Ohio, quadrant Cincinnati, with a red T-shirt that read, “Nobody Puts Cincy in the Corner.” The ballroom had been turned into a glam room, complete with rows of hair and makeup stands, racks of bedazzled dresses that would have made RuPaul’s eyes bleed with envy, and more Chinese Laundry shoes than a Payless in Topeka.
