I take joy in the stupidity of others. It also relieves boredom. Our rail coach contained blend of foreign daytrippers and uppity Indians who enjoy bossing service personnel around as if they were unresponsive oxen. Across from me sat an antsy Indo-Frenchman leading a group of college interns on a three-day excursion from Delhi. Conditions were ideal to begin with: I had been assigned a window seat and there was a table in front of me to place my notebook. I could stretch my legs to their full length below the seat facing me. Better yet, the seat next to me would remain empty for most of the journey. He had an Anne Rice novel to pass the time, but kept at his cell phone too often to knock off even a few paragraphs. The train ... read more

June 29, 2008 Delhi, India No one ever wants to hear about what happens at an airport. Start telling stories of delays at check-in, indigestible airline food, and the in-flight movie, and eyes roll back after they quickly gloss over. There are, however, exceptions. American Airlines’ terminal at O’Hare International Airport is essentially a massive self-contained, self-sustaining, detached suburb of Chicago. It deserves more than a cursory look beyond the hunt for a connecting departure gate. Tuesday afternoons cater to a business crowd. Thin haired, middle aged men in khakis tow wheeled carry-ons with pocket s and slots for every imaginable electronic accessory. I remember hearing that khakis are simply jeans for guys over thirty-five. Now that I have met the age requirement, it all makes sense: replace my red t-shirt for a white button-down collared ... read more

Welcome to this summer’s essays entitled SUBCONTINENTAL DRIFT. SUBCONTINENTAL DRIFT will depict my journey starting in Delhi and moving on to the far Western Indian state of Rajasthan. From there, who knows? A traveler’s itinerary should never be set in stone. For me, that has always been the case. The purpose of these essays is to document what South Asia feels like through my eyes and ears. They are raw, unfiltered, and very subjective. Moreover, they serve a purpose well beyond a replacement for sending postcards every three or four days. Let me explain what that means to you, the reader: First of all, postings have only gone through a cursory edit. While in motion, it will be more important for me to get the information out and then go back and refine. Errors will appear ... read more

I had never heard of Joseph Jefferson before I came to Vermilion Parish. Chances are it would have remained that way. But the renowned 19th-century American actor grew so fond of Southern Louisiana that he poured much of his earnings into a twenty-five acre, subtropical retreat in Delcambre. Jefferson’s New York fame for playing the Washington Irving character on stage over four thousand times explains the literary allusion to the property’s name, the Rip Van Winkle Gardens. Otherwise, how could anyone connect one of the greatest performers of his time to the soft, moist shores of shallow Lake Peigneur? As a Northerner during Reconstruction, Jefferson was well-received by the Cajuns; people of the time considered him one of their own. Even in my brief stint in Vermilion do I realize how difficult it is to ... read more

Cameron’s importance before September of 2005 centered around shrimping, the petroleum industry, and being the seat of the parish of the same name that abuts Vermilion to the west. While all three still play their essential roles, the wind-driven destruction of Rita lends to Cameron an ominous sensation that the storm struck its lethal blow only three weeks ago. Cameron is the swamp version of a ghost town whose primary sign of life is connected to the grey angular monsters of natural gas platforms rising from the Gulf. Cameron is still reeling. Dangling pieces of rusty sheet metal flap from the steel beams of obliterated warehouses. Homes were so completely wrecked that only their foundations remain from which entangled copper wires reach up but connect to nothing. In what used to be the front driveway, the ... read more