Deep South Day Three

 

First thing I need to do is make a correction.  In an earlier post I stated we had stopped in Columbia, SC.  This was not true.  It was Columbia, TN.  I knew it was Columbia SOMEWHERE.

I promised to let you know how the “kick back supper” went last night.  It went just fine.  It was quite nice to be able to stay at the hotel rather than venturing out again for the evening.  Supper was buffet style with a nice variety of options. And because we ate in, the card players were able to get to the serious business of competitive sports all the sooner.  The front desk informed us that “quiet time begins at 10:00 PM” and it was probably good we were so informed.  From the raucous revelry coming from the game-players in the corner I gauged the fun to be in full swing.  We asked the players this morning who won and I never did hear an answer.  I’m not sure they know.

A short ride down the road and we arrived at Bellingrath Gardens on the banks of Mobile Bay.  We toured the house built by Walter and Bessie Bellingrath who earned much of their fortune as the first Coca-cola bottlers in Mobile, AL.  Bessie spent her life collecting things that are now priceless.  A chess set once owned by a queen, I can’t remember which one, and an ornate Chinese table carved with mice, squirrels, berries, and leaves, all signifying something or other, were just two of the countless pieces filling the house.  Kept in near perfect condition, every room was filled with history.  A Tiffany lamp, purchased in the 1930s by Bessie for $50.00, was setting on a vanity table looking nice but nothing to suggest the six figures it is now worth, according to our tour guide.

More impressive than the “stuff” in the house were the views out every window.  The house had only four bedrooms, since the owners never had children, but it had five or six dining rooms.  One dining room had a mirrored wall opposite the large windows to ensure that guests had a beautiful view of the river below, no matter which side of the table they were seated.  An enclosed courtyard in the center of the exteriour stone walls provided a perfect place for repose.  Windows were situated to take optimal advantage of any breeze available in the humid southern climate.  I found it interesting that the house was built in such a way to underplay its size from the outside.  It looked more like a cottage than a 10,000 foot mansion holding unimaginable wealth and luxury. Mrs. Bellingrath paid very close attention to detail in every item in her house, from the smallest design on her many sets of china to the massive tables in her dining rooms. One exception was the cheap white pottery rabbit with the tacky easter ribbon around its neck.  I mentioned to our guide that it seemed out of place, surrounded as it was by priceless antiquities.  She told us that someone had sent a pair down from the north saying the bunnies did not like the cold weather.  One of them was broken by a falling tree in a storm.  The other was brought inside and is now dressed for each season, sitting as it was today, like a transplant from the wrong side of the tracks. I can identify with that rabbit more than anything else in the house, I think.

The Bellingraths began with a five-acre fish camp way back when and they gradually acquired more and more until now the estate includes more than a thousand acres. The place is rife with artesian wells and they have been put to good use with all the water features around the place.  Bessie loved to garden so she immediately began planting flowers and now the gardens are so extensive, I actually got lost in them for a bit.  Completely alone I wandered around the boardwalks that crisscross the swamps and marshes, listening to the honking of some unseen creature.  The air was alive with birdsong and insect sounds.  It was an otherworldly feeling to be completely cut off from everyone, and not sure how to get back to civilization.  Paul finally called me to see where I was.  I told him I don’t know.  I did finally find my way back, huffing and puffing in the humidity.  Along the way I encountered a tour guide who wished me well and told me it was nice the weather was cooler this week.  She was glad it was so nice pleasant for us who were visiting.  I made a noise or two of astonished disbelief and told her it was 30 degrees in Ohio last month.  Then she made her own noises of astonishment and I wished her well and left.

Back at the main entrance I joined our group in a cafeteria where our lunch had been prepared. With lots to choose from, no one went hungry.  In fact I saved half my club sandwich for later.

Shrimping in Biloxi, MS came next.  The weather has been perfect just like the tour guide told me.  Humidity is 70% which I guess is pretty good by the local standards, although it did give us northerners some cause to sweat.  We boarded a small tourist shrimp boat anchored in the Gulf of Mexico and our friendly captain gave us a nonstop rundown on all things shrimp.  Bubba Gump could not have done better.  I listened for a bit then took my place along the rail on the upper deck and just soaked in the sun, letting all of winter’s aches and pains get carried out to sea on the warm breeze that blew across the bow.  Okay, so as an Inlander I don’t even know what the bow is but it sounds good.

Our next stop was the Shark’s Head Gift Shop situated directly beside the beach a few miles up the road from the shrimp boats.  It was very large, very well-stocked, and very expensive.  All those hundreds of souvenir items the tourists seem drawn to.  Shark’s teeth, polished stones, shot glasses with Biloxi emblazoned on their sides.  Magnets of bikini bottoms, sea creatures, tops without bikinis, and every other nautical-flavored bit of “art” you can imagine. Key chains with the names of your grandchildren or a picture of your dog. There were also nice things, much pricier.  T-shirts, hats, footwear and the like.  Paul bought his customary hat/shirt combo to wear tomorrow. He prides himself on packing light, then buys things to wear along the way. Dave bought a matching outfit.  Irene and I are keeping fingers crossed they don’t show up looking like the Bobbsey Twins.

Across the parking lot was the beach so of course we had to go stick our feet in the water.  The Gulf of Mexico was warm as bath water and shallow, no more than waist deep for at least a hundred yards or more.  The sand was as fine as Florida sand and just as white.  We finally pulled ourselves away, shook the sand from our feet and boarded our waiting coach.

We pulled into our New Orleans hotel around 5:30.  Wanda, our hostess with the mostest, greeted us on the bus wearing the Amish dress that someone had made for her - per her request.  I will say that Wanda did not look the least bit Amish; in fact with her influence, neither did her dress.  She was most welcoming and had ordered up genuine Louisiana gumbo for our supper.  It was delicious.  After gaining another pound or two, I joined in when the cards came out at the corner table and the games started again in earnest.

Our musicians pulled out the guitar and harmonicas and the hotel lobby is filled with song and merriment as I write this.  I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now.