“A feeling that was unfamiliar but very delicious”
“Just step back and smell the roses'' – is what my parents reminded me when I left the house for LAX. I kept repeating that in my head over and over on the plane ride to Louisiana, trying my hardest to shut out the gnawing thoughts of my final grades, past assignments, work, my family, my friends and quite possibly every other worry under the sun. And contrary to how it may sound, I have actually been bursting with excitement on the days leading up to this trip. I couldn’t remember the last time I was able to relax unburdened by a single worry, time crunch, or obligation. But oddly enough, my brain was ping ponging all over the place, relentlessly, from genuine excitement to an irrational, lingering worry. Why couldn’t I just smell the damn roses?
As the first day in Grand Isle rolled around, I was overwhelmed with the vastness and beauty of the bayou. As I went down Louisiana Highway 1, I was given a front row seat to the miles and miles of endless wetlands that surrounded the barrier islands. The sea was still, untouched – so much so that at first glance one would believe they were being tricked by a glossy mirage. The wetlands that enveloped the road eventually led me to a long shore with an active beach and many sand dunes – where we stayed for the next three days. It resembled a painting. It was a paradise.
However, as expected, the task of adjusting to an island lifestyle, without a care in the world, wasn’t a hard one. I would say that being able to shake the anxieties of my, now halted, Los Angeles life, running without me didn't disappear in an instant, but the vacation mindset was, to say the least, an uncomplicated concept.
Our cabin had grand, ocean front windows that gave us a serene view of the quiet beach just a few steps away. My eyes never failed to wander over to that window, entranced by the calm waves creeping onto the sand or the peaking fins of bottlenose dolphins above the surface. The strong rays of the sun shone from end to end of the shore. The birds glided gracefully across the cloudless sky in a perfect line, skaine, without the push of wind. This together left me desperately needing to jump in for a swim – reminding me of Edna from our reading, The Awakening. In the novel, Edna described the “long, sandy path, upon which a sporadic and tangled growth that bordered it on either side made frequent and unexpected inroads.” This mirrored the landscape almost exactly, even when she mentioned how the green clusters “glistened from afar in the sun.” Like Edna, I felt that the water was “sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft embrace.” It wrapped around me so warmly, I understood why she found it impossible to ever leave.
Another pastime that I found surprisingly impossible was probably the most simple of all: reading. It had been so long since the last time I had dedicated time to fully focus on reading a book that I felt that the action itself was not an efficient enough use of my time. My worries and anxieties that had been fading away came knocking on the door once again. Every few pages I would catch myself thinking about ways I could multitask or things I would usually be doing. I thought to myself: “Maybe I could rearrange my suitcase? Or I wonder if I should check the schedule again? Sometimes I would look up from the book for no reason at all, I simply wasn’t accustomed to focusing on words for long periods of time. It was like my body learned to relax but my brain hadn’t.
It wasn’t until the third seminar, when we learned about the “frenchness” in Louisiana, that I got a better understanding of what slowing down really meant. Essentially, Andrew walked us through the vibrant French influences that have shaped Creole culture as we know it today. It was only then did I realize that the French were a romantic people who focused on working to live rather than living to work. They valued a tight knit community, meaningful interactions, and finding happiness in their lives. For example, I remember the group and I were rushing into the water when we ran into an older couple who perched two beach chairs in the shallow end of the shore, relaxing side by side, basking in the sun, unbothered. My initial thoughts were: “Isn’t it Monday?” and “Why aren’t they at work?” After connecting Andrew’s lectures to the situation, I realized that the residents of Grand Isle must work on their own clock. Another situation involved another couple that came by in a golf cart, with a young labrador, dressed in old shirts and khaki shorts. I watched them hop off their cart and hoist their trapping gear on their backs to walk towards the trap area we happened to be foolishly swimming near. Hence the many pinches to our feet. As the couple splashed around happily, I was surprised to see the ideal work-life balance occur right before my eyes.
The culture of this town is like no other. I’ve witnessed a passion for living life simply that doesn’t resemble anything I’ve encountered before in America. Even food is enjoyed with a different passion. The people here are driven toward happiness within themselves rather than in their work. They value a strong sense of community over individuality and sense of purpose. Grand Isle may not be a place for everyone but I can attest that it has taught me a great deal about the art of smelling the roses.