Since the news of my acceptance to the NOLA maymester, I was eagerly counting down the days until the end of the school year. I was so excited to jump into the next adventure and immerse myself in the unique culture of New Orleans. Ready to explore both the books and bayous, I woke up early Monday to hop on my flight. Hours of travel finally got me down south to Louisiana. The humid air hit my face like a warm embrace and a smile spread across my lips. It reminded me of home. Given its tropical locale, Hawaii’s climate has a signature heaviness in the air. Stepping off the plane, the moist air was a reminder of comfort but, I quickly realized Louisiana is no Hawaii.
It has its own amazing charms that captivated me all the way to our first location. The roads arched over waters and ran alongside moss-adorned cypress trees that made me feel as if the whole state was floating. All I could do was marvel at the seemingly endless stretches of highway rising from these marsh lands.
The view on the road
All of us heading to the beach!
Stepping out of the van once making it to our destination, the smell of salty air hit my nose, adding a pang of homesickness to my heart. We had stopped in the middle of Grand Isle, a quaint little barrier island in the shoreline of Louisiana where we’d be spending the first couple of days. Maybe it was the months away from home but Grand Isle really reminded me of Hawaii. The calming and subtle crashing of waves below a blue painted sky sang the song of serenity I was blessed to grow up with.
Our cohort of eight wasted no time settling in and ventured out to the beach right behind our villa. To my surprise, this mismatched band of students had already started bonding during our two-hour ride to the coast. We explored the terrain, stepping on the red algae that lined the coast to dip our toes into the warm Atlantic ocean.
Our first lecture introduced us to the idea of bookpacking on Grand Isle. Our time here reflects the atmosphere of our first book, The Awakening by Kate Chopin. Much of the novel was set right there in the isle, transporting its readers to a tranquil summer at the turn of the twentieth century. For Edna Pontellier, the main character, Grand Isle became more than a vacation spot, it’s a place of emotional awakening, a pause from her structured life in New Orleans that allows her to rediscover her desires, her autonomy, and her sense of self. Grand Isle, as a setting, reflects the mannerisms of the French Creole people of the time, very relaxed and communal, that gave Enda the space to have this awakening..
LIke Edna, I didn’t arrive on Grand Isle seeking transformation, but the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, the softness of the sand, and the space to simply be began to unwind the knots of stress I hadn’t even realized I was carrying. I’ve been so caught up with the hustle and bustle of college life that I’d forgotten what it felt like to truly relax. I came to this maymester ready to be dazzled by all that makes New Orleans so unique, but these quiet days on the isle were a delight.
I started to listen closely to what I really needed. Though it wasn’t the great radical break Edna experienced, the rest, reflection, and connection of Grand Isle was my awakening to appreciating the present again instead of constantly rushing about to the next thing.
As the days drifted on, our group drew closer. We soaked up the sun, lounged on the beach, shared our thoughts on the book, and embraced the “French way” of the characters. We spent our meals together and laughed our way into the night. I spent my days leisurely, iPad in hand, enveloping myself in Chopin’s words while listening to the very sea she wrote so descriptively of. Yet again, I felt a kinship to home. It reminded me of “island time,” as we liked to say, where the slowness was natural and expected.
“The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace.
”
When we finished the reading of Edna’s progressive tragedy, we returned to the water, just as she does in the final pages of the novel. The warmth of the Atlantic was a stark difference to the often-icy Pacific I was familiar with. While bobbing in the waves, Cooper and I chatted about Hawaii, making connections between the two coastal worlds. There were little things here and there, like the funny beach-themed villa slogans and how the sno-balls in the isle were the very same shaved ice I grew up with. In reflection of what made the unfamiliar feel comfortably natural, the sea was always there. But in both places, the sea was so enticing and welcoming. As I floated about the Gulf, I could hear the voice of the sea. For Edna, it was a call to freedom. For me, it was a sign to pause, its own kind of freedom.
In the midst of my fervor for the city, I completely overlooked what Grand Isle could offer me: peace, relaxation, and a break from the craziness of everyday life. I’m struck by how a place so far from home can feel so close in my heart. Great Isle isn’t Hawaii, but it has offered me the same peace, warmth, and comfort I didn’t realize I missed. This maymester has already reminded me of the value of slowing down, being present, and staying open to transformation. If these first days are any indication, I know New Orleans will cause its own awakening for me.
As they say here, Laissez les bon temps rouler Let the good times roll!
