Bayou Descriptive Writing

Laying in bed, Meg wonders if the hurricane will miss them, hoping it will miss them. Picturing herself flying out of the attic, she imagines it will be like The Wizard of Oz, except she wouldn’t be going to Oz, she will be trapped in a wild hurricane, in her rickety, beat-up bed. Meg’s mind keeps wondering as she waits for the first noise of the hurricane.

Last year while traveling in Italy I was approached by a lovely lady who immediately started asking questions about the United States. When she found out my home was in Louisiana she got really excited. She had relatives in New Orleans but had never been able to go to visit them. We carried on quite a conversation. Telling her about the hot summers, Cajun food, and cool music made me miss my home.

The story is told by Mike Tidwell, a man who chooses to hitchhike down the Bayou, catching rides on stranger's boats who he has never met before. He started on his exciting journey, not knowing what would become of him. Relying on strangers kindness, and a great deal of luck. Throughout the book the author travels down the 'Baya', as the Cajun people call it, and meets many people of Cajun background who call this place their home. The Author's main purpose in writing this book is to share with the world the lifestyle of these Cajun people; and how their home is disappearing before their own eyes. He wants to call attention to the rising problem of the disappearing marshlands, with the intention of slowing down the

It was a hot, muggy day like any other in southern Louisiana, right near the Atchafalaya Basin, and between the run-down gas stations and Spanish Moss-covered trees, there was something buzzing in the air, mingling with the hum of the mosquitoes. It was Zydeco, tricking out from the radios that were scattered around the rest station. Between the bars of the music, Louisiana Creole (a language with French, African, Spanish, and American Indian roots) intertwined with guitars and

Parading on the outskirts of Mobile while dressed up as a Chickasaw chief is how one man became an important factor in the history of Mobile, Alabama, in the mid 1800’s. Now, a day set aside for this man, parades with floats, beads, moonpies, and loud music remind Mobilians of their favorite time of the year, Mardi Gras. The carnival celebration of Mardi Gras has played a big role in the history of the southern cities Mobile, Alabama, and New Orleans, Louisiana, but the history that everyone believes about the carnival and the people that have contributed to it is not always as true as it seems.

The blazing hot sun beamed down on my skin as the song “Mardi Gras Mambo,” a traditional song almost everyone in Louisiana has heard once before replayed continuously and the shouts, “Throw me some beads mister,” overwhelmed me. For years, I had waited to finally be a part of this, no longer was I an average citizen at the corner of Capitol Street, hoping to be in knowledge. I was a part of something grand, Mardi Gras. This was the first time I was getting to ride on the float with my older cousins and other various family members. I never realized how much work was put in to ensure success by the end of the night. I remeber how I stayed awake the night before, restlessly pacing across the floor. It was to the point that I begin making a checklist, as I scuffled my feet across the house, making sure that everything was in place.

When I first heard my youth group was traveling to New Orleans, I pictured Disney’s The Princess and the Frog. My perception of New Orleans was heavily influenced by Hollywood. At that point, I had very little authentic exposure to the Southern lifestyle, and would have told you it wasn’t my cup of tea. After all, I wasn’t fond of country music and believed Southern accents were a little annoying. Once upon a time I gagged when anyone mentioned seafood, and secretly wondered why anyone would live in an area prone to destructive hurricanes. Little did I know how much someone could learn about a city’s culture in a week.

Because it can help you in your future in getting a good paying job and with that job you can maintain your life.

As our plane landed, all I could see was green around the dirt landing strip. Trees, bushes, and tall grass crowded my view of the jeep that would take us to the cabins. We piled our duffel back in the back and drove off. Once my family and I arrived, the managers and staff all welcomed us. Everyone was so friendly! They showed us around where we would be staying for the next week; the view from our cabin was breathtaking. We could walk out of our cabin and an elephant would be standing less than 15 feet away eating leaves in the cool shade of the tree. The morning after we had arrived and were all settled in, we went on a game drive. We did not go on these game drives to kill, just to observe the animals in their natural habitat. Therefore,

Hillbilly Night takes place each Monday night at The Wheel Club, a basement venue in Montreal’s Notre-Dame-de-Grace neighborhood. It’s a homey, informal setting that is perfect for this event, which has recently celebrated its 50th anniversary. Hillbilly night draws musicians and music lovers to play and appreciate old-time country music from the era before 1965. The Wheel Club is a large, one room, hall with wood paneling and several long tables covered in checkered cloths. The décor has an old-timey feel with Christmas lights strung up behind the stage, old-fashioned lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and country music artifacts such as a large banner that reads “Old Time Country Music” behind the stage, framed pictures of past

First published in 1894, Kate Chopin’s short story “Beyond the Bayou” explores the effect that fear and loneliness can have on one’s world, along with how love and determination can prompt one to ultimately overcome these emotions. An early childhood trauma has compelled the protagonist of the story, a woman known as La Folle, to choose to remain in the isolation of her cabin and the woods surrounding it, keeping her largely separated from the rest of the world across the bayou. Her master’s house sits across the bayou, and his children revel in visiting La Folle and listening to her stories. The protagonist is closest with the youngest of the children; Cheri. The two share a deep bond, one that is tested towards the end of the story when Cheri accidentally stumbles and his leg is injured by a bullet.

A traveler also frames their understanding of ‘authentic’ blues by seeking out opportunities to immerse themselves in a reality that is indicative of what a ‘true Chicagoan’ would participate in by attempting to understand the local and cultural norms of the people and the space. In other words, they are searching for an experience. On the other hand, the tourist acts as an observer, pursuing the “must see attractions” and what has accompanied the place branding of the city, typically provided by its government. Additionally, the tourist stays in the sanitized spaces, cleansed enough for city-outsiders to witness blues culture safely who will also share stories with other tourists and vetted cultural inhabitants that represent the city in a positive

Soulful jazz by a whiskey battered voice, the aroma of rich gumbo from generations old family recipes, and colossal floats that saturate the landscape with magnificent lights all merge together on Mardi Gras. The local music, food, and cultural is embraced and celebrated greater than any other city I’ve visited. Unfortunately, such a vibrant area is intertwined with widespread crime and poor health. During my years living in New Orleans I fell into the trap of believing there are just some things in New Orleans that can’t be change. Armon Dauphin challenged this.

Gunshots, screaming, thumping of footsteps, sweat, heavy-breathing, heat, cold, puking, nerves running crazy--all common sounds and feelings felt by a cross country athlete. Cross country is a nerve-racking sport, along with good times, and making relationships with teammates that will last a lifetime.

When I arrived at the T.G.I.F restaurant in downtown New Orleans, I was surprised at the wall paintings and other décor around the restaurant. It was very different than every other T.G.I.F I had ever been too. I went to the restaurant on a mission to observe people and their social interactions, but I found myself gazing at the décor. The walls were adorned with photos of saints, jazz players, and the fleur-de-lis emblem. I made small talk with the waitress and she explained the