The Swimsuit Edition

Tessie's been taking swimming lessons this summer, as she did last summer, at our local community pool. She's already successfully completed the "Tiny Tots" and "Advanced Tiny Tots" swim classes, and has matriculated through to "Kinder Kids." According to the brochure, in this class she'll learn how to do the "Front crawl with rhythmic side breathing, elementary backstroke, and backstroke with an introduction to diving." That seems a bit ambitious, doesn't it?

Classes are held in the afternoon for five days in a row, Monday to Friday. I had to pick up Tessie early from her pre-school to get her to class on time, and this caused a bit of excitement among her classmates, many of whom were eager to know what her afternoon plans were.

"I have swimming lessons," she informed them.

"Why?" one of them asked.

"Because I want to be a scuba diver," Tessie replied.

So we dashed home to change her into her swimsuit, then walked the short distance to the pool. We were a few minutes early, so Tessie sat by the edge of the pool and splashed around with some of the other early arrivals.

Once class began, Tessie followed the teacher's instructions to the best of her ability. She's still a little shaky on a number of the techniques, but she seemed to be enjoying herself. Even so, with all of them pushing and kicking as hard as they could, these kids just couldn't move the edge of the pool.

The instructor took each of the kids out one by one to paddle around the pool while hanging on to a kickboard. Here's Tessie's turn:

Before long, though, the enjoyment had dissipated, replaced by cold. Tessie began to get upset, explaining that she was "frozen" and wanted to come out of the pool. I tried to convince her to stay in just a bit longer, and move around to warm herself up, but she was insistent on coming out of the pool, so I acquiesced and she sat on my lap by the edge of the pool. Both the instructor and I tried to entice her back into the water, but she just shivered and refused.

"Tessie," I began, "don't you want to be a scuba diver? You have to learn how to swim if you want to be a scuba diver."

"It's too cold," she responded.

"Well, that's where the best diving is. All she shipwrecks with treasure and the biggest sea creatures are in the coldest water. If you want to be a scuba diver, you have to learn to swim in cold water."

"I don't want to be a scuba diver." Cross another career aspiration off the list. "I just want to be a baseball player."

"Well, if you become a baseball player, you'll only play one game a day. What will you do with all your free time? I think you could be a baseball player and a scuba diver. Don't you think that would be fun?"

"I think I'll just rest."

At that point the instructor came to the edge of the pool to ask if Tessie wanted to come back in to do "gliders," a technique where the kids put their hands together over their heads and glide through the water.

"Oh, Tessie, don't you want to try that?" I asked her. "It looks like lots of fun."

Resignedly, almost wistfully, she said, "Gliders. I used to do those."

She continued to just sit there on my lap while the other kids did their gliders. When that part of the lesson was done, the instructor once again tried to bring Tessie back into the fold. "Tessie, would you like to do jumpers?"

That got her interest. She's not as adept at flinging herself bodily into the pool as her older classmates, but she is still a daredevil at heart, so the opportunity to jump in at the deep[er] end of the pool was not to be missed. She bounded up out of my lap, much to my surprise, and took her place as the first in line to jump. Back into the water she went! (Regrettably, I couldn't back up fast enough to get a picture of the jump. Maybe next time.)

A

Big Fun in the Big Easy: part 4

Day 5

At last, the final chapter of our New Orleans adventures.

Having finally run out of Audubon Institute attractions, we had to find other ways to amuse ourselves for our last two days in the city. Fortunately, this was not difficult.

One of my priorities for this trip was a visit to the National World War II Museum, formerly the National D-Day Museum, so while Tessie and her mother slept in, I made the short walk from our hotel.  

Why New Orleans, I expect you may be asking. True, no battles were fought there, but the museum, whose founders included the historian Stephen Ambrose, chose the site to honor the contribution of New Orleans boat builder Andrew Jackson Higgins and his shallow-draft, plywood Higgins boats. These were the boats that carried the first assault waves to the Normandy coast on D-Day. "Andrew Higgins," General Eisenhower said, "is the man who won the war for us." So New Orleans is indeed a fitting home for this museum.

The museum still shows that it began with a more focused collection of artifacts and displays specific to D-Day, and the museum itself seems to be sorting itself out of an identity crisis brought on by its name change and scope change. D-Day is extensively covered, but the air war, the North African and Italian campaigns, and the battle of the Atlantic are all given far less space than they deserve. (One can forgive the omission of the Russian front, the Battle of Britain, Manchurian campaign, etc., in a primarily American museum.) The Pacific Theatre, from Pearl Harbor to the atomic bombings of Japan, is given an extensive, highly detailed and modern gallery full of interactive displays, maps and artifacts. The museum is undergoing significant expansion, which is scheduled to be completed by 2014; hopefully the increased gallery space will allow the curators to flesh out the weaker displays. If all are brought up to the standard of the Pacific gallery, this will be an outstanding museum.

After entering the museum via a large atrium in which a variety of military vehicles and aircraft are displayed, one ascends to the second floor to begin a sequential journey through history, beginning with a gallery titled "Prelude to War." This display (above) shows the relative forces of the three countries shown at the end of the 1930s. Each figurine represents 20,000 soldiers, sailor or airmen in each countries' military. Shown this way, it makes the susequent military build-up by the United States that much more impressive, but the museum missed the opportunity to bookend that display with a corresponding one illustrating conditions at the end of the war.

Following the initial stage-setting galleries, and the standard war-museum fare of weapons displays...

...and -- what's this! -- an Enigma machine, which the Germans used to encode secret messages, and the Allies used to read them...

...the museum jumps abruptly to planning for D-Day, followed, obviously, by the execution of those plans. It was during these spectacularly detailed and absorbing exhibits that Tessie (and Mommy) caught up to me.

Tessie does not like war, nor does she like war museums. The somber lighting, the piped-in sound effects, photographs that are alternately cringe-inducing and heart rending; all these things made for one unhappy little girl. As much as I want her to grow up to appreciate the horrible nature of war, this was not the time. So, Tessie and her mother hung out in the bookstore while I rushed through the Pacific gallery. (Sometimes I get away with murder.)

We had lunch at the American Sector, the museum's cafe, which was named not for the partition of post-war Berlin but for the area of New Orleans in which it is located. New Orleans is such an eclectic city of numerous foreign influences that it may be the only American city with such a sector. The cafe's menu offers 1940s-era comfort food crafted by a retired Marine Corps chef. (No, really -- they actually brag about that.) It's tasty fare, but a far cry from the city's more renowned restaurants in both style and substance.

After lunch, the ladies decided the museum and I were a lost cause, so they headed back to the hotel pool while I returned to the museum. Disappointed as I was by its seemingly limited scope, I certainly did find plenty with which to occupy myself. Perhaps in 2014, when their expansion is complete, we'll return for more than just one day of visiting.

Day 6

By the morning of our last day in the Crescent City, jet lag was no longer much of an issue and I was able to wake up in time to take some sunrise pictures from our hotel window.

With an afternoon flight ahead of us, we needed to find some activity that would wear Tessie out enough that she could sleep soundly on the plane. We saved our visit to the Louisiana Children's Museum for our last day for just that purpose.

With so many activities for her to explore, we had a hard time just keeping up. There was the Community Helper exhibit... 

... some animal x-rays...

...and a culinary exhibit with some local flavor.

There was also an art room, where Tessie was provided with paints and a smock, and set to creating her masterpiece.

While it dried, there was time for more play. Tessie just loves anything with balls rolling down ramps...

...and dress-up is always a favorite, too.

The museum had a pretend restaurant, where Tessie served us all "lunch." There was also a pretend supermarket so realistic it was being used for training.

She also got to create a giant soap bubble around herself.

There was also a large gallery devoted to urban planning and engineering. Hopefully she wasn't developing any career ideas here...

 The museum had plenty of attractions to captivate a small child, and we, of course, were captivated by Tessie's enthusiasm, but soon enough it was time to grab a bite at Mulate's Cajun restaurant.We couldn't convince her to try the grilled alligator. (It was delicious, if a bit tough.)

From there we walked back to the hotel, grabbed our bags and headed to the airport. Tessie did indeed sleep on the plane.

Big Fun in the Big Easy: part 3

Day 3

Our next day's journey began with a celebrity sighting just outside our hotel:

Recognize him? It's Lightning McQueen, from the Pixar film Cars, which is Tessie's current favorite movie. (O.K., maybe it's not an exact match, but really, that #95 has to be a reference to the character, wouldn't you think?)

Our destination for the morning was the Audubon Insectarium, just up Canal Street from our hotel. The Insectarium is located on the first floor of a federal building, making it quite possibly the only maximum security insect zoo in the world. Once past the metal detectors and the bag inspection and the cavity search, you're in amongst a plethora of exotic insects. (O.K., kidding about the cavity search, but not about the rest. It's a lot like airport security - no pocket knives, nail clippers, cans of Raid, etc.)

Tessie found some of it enthralling, like taking an earthworm ride in the larger than life underground tunnel:

Contemplating the life cycle of the common house fly:

Or riding an alligator through the bayou:

The Insectarium has, as one would expect, an extensive collection of mounted (i.e. non-living) critters:

There are also a plethora of live exhibits behind glass. Tessie got to observe ants "Hello, ant friends!" close-up, saw scorpions and tarantulas and other creepy-crawlies, and was even presented with the opportunity to hold a Madagascar hissing cockroach. (She declined.) It also featured, as a temporary exhibit, a walk-through butterfly enclosure done up as a Japanese house. We walked through, and Tessie tried heartily to entice the butterflies to land on her hand, but to no avail.

Since this was the final day of the conference, Tessie's Mom was able to join us at the Insectarium around lunchtime. We had lunch at Landry's, which, on my previous visit to the Crescent City, was a linoleum-and-Formica diner offering very reasonably priced meals with generous portions. Not any more. Hurricane Katrina flooded it out, and the rebuilt Landry's has moved upscale. It's still tasty, but the value isn't the same. The city has changed since August 2005; now it's a lot harder to find a decent platter of boiled crayfish. A true tragedy.

We walked off lunch by heading back north into Jackson Square, this time to see the interior of the Church of St. Louis:

After that, we wandered the French Quarter some more, taking in more of the fine local entertainment. Tessie danced for a bit, but spent most of the trip perched atop my shoulders. I may be a few inches shorter these days - she's getting heavier!

Day 4
There are lots of Audubon Institute attractions in New Orleans. After the Zoo and the Insectarium, we still had the Aquarium left to visit. (Conveniently, one can purchase a joint ticket to visit all three in a seven-day span for a slight savings.)

The Aquarium was an even shorter walk from our hotel than the Insectarium; in fact, it was a shorter walk from our hotel than just about anything else. Since Tessie and her new friend hit it off so well at the Zoo, we arranged to meet him and his parents at the Aquarium as well.

The Aquarium of the Americas, as it is known, suffered badly during Hurricane Katrina. It wasn't the storm or the flooding that did the damage, but the inability of the staff to return  and care for the animals in the critical period after the storm was over. The collections were seriously depleted, but the larger carnivores survived. I guess that's not a huge surprise.

The aquarium is divided into regional displays of the various aquatic habitats of the Americas, such as the Gulf of Mexico, the Caribbean, and, of course, the Louisiana bayou, where this guy hangs out.

He's real. That lack of coloration is also real; he's leucistic, not albino. This seahorse, a resident of the Caribbean section, is also real, despite looking like a cross between a sci-fi monster and a Christmas ornament.

 Well, well, well - another celebrity sighting! Tessie hasn't yet been able to sit through the whole movie (the beginning is very scary), but she certainly recognizes Nemo. He seemed happy to see her, too.

Tessie's favorite part of the aquarium was the children's play area. There were rays in a touch tank (being a good Red Sox fan, Tessie wanted nothing to do with them!), sailing ships to climb and explore, kid-level fish tanks and informative signs, and a great big killer whale, uh, excuse me, orca right in the middle of the floor.

(Tessie knows them as killer whales - she inherited some of my old books from back in the days before cetaceans got all politically correct.)

We saw the whole place. It is a very good aquarium, especially the Mississippi River Gallery, which shows not only the fishes but some of the aquatic animals and birds of the region, all in one large, sunlit space. It's very thorough and well done. Also very enjoyable to just sit and watch is the giant 400,000 gallon Gulf of Mexico tank. We could have sat there for hours, just watching the sharks, turtles, jacks and other large fishes just swim around.

Of course, Tessie would never allow that!

You go, Tessie!

I took Tessie to the park today. She played in the sandbox, climbed on the play structures, rode the bouncy cars, and, oh yeah, totally smacked down some little punk chauvinist.

Tessie and this little boy were chatting as they played side by side. The boy, whose name I'll omit to spare him future embarrassment, asked Tessie how old she was. "Three and a half," Tessie replied.

"I'm three and a half. You don't talk like a three and a half [year old]," the boy replied, clearly impressed with Tessie's outstanding vocabulary and diction.

At that point, I asked the boy his birthday. "September Fourth," he told me.

"Then Tessie is only a month older than you," I informed him.

"She is too tall to be three and a half," he replied.

While sensing that he was calling my integrity into question, I let it slide, and went back to observing their interactions.

"Are you a boy or a girl," the boy asked.

"I'm a girl," Tessie told him.

"Why do you have a crab on your shirt? Only boys like crabs." Tessie was wearing a shirt with a cartoon lobster on it, and it read "Lotsa Lobster." [Target, $8.99, FYI.]

"It's a lobster," Tessie told him, then marched right up to him. "See? It says 'lobster' right here."

"How do you know what it says?" the boy asked.

Then came the best part: Tessie raised herself up to her full height, towering two or three inches over the boy, pulled her shoulders back and stated matter-of-factly, "I can read it. I know how to read. I learned from my Mommy and Daddy."

Big Fun in the Big Easy: Part 2

Day 2 

The conference continued with its demands on Tessie's Mom's time, so again we had to find ways to amuse ourselves. We planned to visit the Audubon Zoo, which was too far away for a walk.

We left the hotel and headed up Canal Street toward a streetcar stop when we ran into another conference-attendee-spouse and his son looking for something to do. We joined forces and boarded the St. Charles line streetcar heading west to Audubon Park. With traffic, and stops just about every block, it seemed the streetcar might not be the most expedient form of travel in the city, but we had already come to realize that alacrity in service is not the Big Easy's strong suit. So we just relaxed and took in the scenery. St. Charles Street is lined with stately nineteenth-century mansions, as well as a few more recent architectural attractions, so despite the slow pace we reached our stop without first reaching boredom.

That stop, however, was at the gate to Audubon Park, not Audubon Zoo, and we were left with a one mile walk to the zoo. It was not too warm and the scenery was delightfully bucolic, so we enjoyed the stroll and arrived at the gate with the rest of the throng.

After entering the zoo, we headed to Tessie's priority, the tigers, but were soon distracted by some of her other interests, such as the flamingos and elephants, as Tessie showed her new friend how to get the most out of a visit to the zoo.

Sure, there are animals to look at, but there are also animals to ride! As soon as she saw that the zoo's carousel had a tiger, we knew what we had to do. (Of course, that's not a huge surprise; all zoo carousels have tigers, don't they?)

After getting ourselves all turned around on the carousel, a quick map check was needed before we found the tigers.

The Audubon Zoo's tigers are white tigers. [I'll give Kanye West a moment here -- he's not coming? Good; I'll move on.] These tigers get their pigmentation from a recessive gene, and are not albinos, no matter what Sigfried and Roy may have told you. (Come to think of it, we can add white tigers to the list of things New Orleans has in common with Las Vegas. Other items on that list include casinos and rampant debauchery.)

After lunch in a staggeringly overcrowded cafeteria, we headed back out to take in more of the zoo while Tessie's new friend decided it was time for a nap. We saw the rest of the zoo on our own, including an animatronic dinosaur exhibition that Tessie found enthralling. Especially the one that spit. (Water, thankfully.) 

The zoo was scheduled to close right around that time, so we exited and began the long walk through the park back up to the streetcar line. The shadows were getting long, but Tessie still had loads of energy to burn up. Fortunately, there was a playground with swings and slides along our route, and a few other children to play with as well. 

 We did eventually reach the streetcar stop, and didn't have to wait long before one ambled down the track toward us. We boarded and took our seats, with Tessie staking out a window, and watched as the mansions of St. Charles Street slid by.

Then the streetcar ahead of ours broke down, blocking the tracks at Lee Circle and adding about 45 minutes to our journey. Tessie didn't mind one bit, though. She had fallen asleep in my lap a few blocks earlier.