The Grand Isle feels like a sort of haven, almost like you aren’t supposed to be there at all. There’s only one way in by land, although it hardly feels appropriate to call the soaring two-lane road “by land.” This pathway transported us dozens of miles, soaring over swamp, marsh, and open water to the small island. I’ve never seen roads like it. From tall stilts high above the Spanish moss-covered cypress trees, down to roads just inches above the water, we traveled from urban New Orleans through small towns to Grand Isle. Stepping out of the van for the first time since the airport, we get a small reprieve from Louisiana’s oppressive, humid heat from the ocean’s blustery wind whipping through the stilts of our home for the next five days. Once we finally lugged our luggage up the two flights of stairs to the house, it proved to be the perfect communal setup to get to know the people we would be spending the next four weeks with.

Our screened in porch overlooking the water

As our professor insisted, my first full day on the Isle began quite slowly. There was a lot to take in, from the three porch options to my favorite, the beach. Once again, we left the relaxing air conditioning and were hit with the intense wave of heat. While I've grown to expect this heat, I still can’t say I am used to it. Once we descended the two flights of stairs to the ground level, we were faced with a surprisingly treacherous embankment. Even though it was the same sight as before, being the only people on this beach was an impactful experience for me. The island is certainly developed, but it remains quiet during the off-season we found ourselves in.

Unbeknownst to me when making my decision, I began reading Kate Chopin’s The Awakening just as I imagine protagonist Edna Pontellier would’ve spent much of her vacation, lazily lounging on the beach. While it wasn’t quite as lavish as Edna’s high-class retreat would’ve had it, I still had the same endless beauty of the ocean in front of me … and the same sand in my coffee from the ever-persistent wind.

I immediately recognized the laid-back nature of Grand Isle as it’s described in The Awakening in the world around me. Something about the island demands your undivided attention. It’s impossible to completely describe how the power and dependability of the ocean’s waves allow you to give in and just experience the world around you. This focus drew the nine of us closer at a pace that wouldn’t have been possible anywhere else. Escaping the bustle of college life in the city was truly a blessing right after finals.

“She felt as if a mist had been lifted from her eyes, enabling her to look upon and comprehend the significance of life, that monster made up of beauty and brutality.

”

— Kate Chopin, The Awakening

The strong winds deterred most of the group from staying long, but I stayed and looked out over the same ocean as Edna, besides some plastic litter and oil rigs. As I lay on the beach just as she had, I was able to not just imagine, but understand her world. The slower-paced lifestyle is fundamental to the book's development and her decisions. This extra space to think and contemplate, paired with a location that seems so removed from the rest of the world, gives Edna the freedom to make these bold decisions. Pursuing Robert, ignoring her children, adopting a more French feeling of openness; all of these can be attributed to this unique destination we find ourselves in 155 years later.

Despite copious amounts of sunscreen, I felt a sunburn forming and was forced back inside. We were so clearly instructed to just relax, move slow, and enjoy where we are, but somehow that was more difficult for me than any papers or blog posts. Detaching and just living in the moment isn’t as easy as it sounds, especially right after finals. It was the ocean, the constant power of the waves, the unrelenting wind, and of course, the many hermit crabs that finally helped me relax. It was the music of New Orleans that brought me on this maymester, but the Grand Isle was an unanticipated bonus.

““The voice of the sea speaks to the soul.””

— Kate Chopin, The Awakening

Throughout the Grand Isle portion of our trip, I focused on taking in the natural world around us. I waded in the ocean every opportunity I got, I picked up countless shells looking for hermit crabs, and I even found a coconut. This was how I was able to just relax and exist. I love the beach, wherever it is, but I’ve never had an experience like this. Yes, there was a lot of seaweed to get through, and the waves weren’t big enough to bodysurf, but because of how we spent our time, this beach was more relaxing than any beach I’d been to before.

As beautiful as nature is on the island, it doesn’t tell the complete story. While the view looking out over the ocean certainly is, the island itself is not as I described. There are still the remains of houses likely destroyed by Hurricane Ida. The splintered wood and rusted metal tell the story of people that I don’t know. I can’t help but wonder about them and why they didn’t rebuild. These serve as a reminder of the fleeting nature of the island. Nothing can be permanent in such a vulnerable location, not even the land itself.