Bay Saint Louis

[Image: In front of the exterior of a house
stands a light pole. Attached to the light
pole are metal letters which spell out
"BAY ST. LOUIS."]

Re: Where is Taylor Sirard? 

The only thing I knew about Bay Saint Louis prior to my arrival was that it was a Mississippi coastal town, fifty-minutes from New Orleans. That, and there was a woman living there who was willing to house and feed me in exchange for some work. I rode into town with about eighty dollars left to my name, and I knew I wouldn't be leaving until that changed. I was determined to keep my head down, work, and move on. 

Bay Saint Louis, or BSL for short, had other plans for me. My first stop in town was at the Mockingbird Cafe, endearingly called the "Living Room of the Bay" by many of the locals, and aptly so. It was a cozy, but bright spot with a wrap-around porch and local art covering the interior walls. I ordered a coffee and a classic breakfast plate. Lively conversation was being had among patrons, and the employees seemed to have a warm familiarity with everyone who walked in the door. I love a good cafe atmosphere, breakfast is my weakness, and the small-town feel has a special place in my heart. I was smitten.

I left the Mockingbird to meet my host, Jean, and settle into my temporary home. Jean welcomed me into her house as she was cooking breakfast. I sat with her as she scooped runny eggs into her mouth with a piece of toast. I don't remember exactly what we talked about during that first conversation, but I do remember being confused with the way she made drawn out tangents before, if at all, coming back to her original thought.

Jean was involved in a pressing housing issue when I arrived and wasn't able to dedicate much focus to the work I was supposed to be doing for her. In my free time, I updated my resume in order to secure a second job that would supply me with money.

I compiled a list of restaurants nearby and set off on foot one morning to see which ones were hiring. I walked two blocks from Jean's to the center of Old Town Bay Saint Louis. As the name implies, Old Town is the historic district of BSL. There are no chain restaurants, no tall buildings, and everything is walkable. Alternatively, many of the residents buzz about on golf carts, only adding to the vacation feel common in coastal towns. 

[Image: A directory sign. Pointing to the left are five
signs: restaurants, beach, b&b, art/shops, and antiques.
To the right point two signs: b&b and HWY 90.]

[Image: Several golf carts are parked, each with three rows of
seating, and a striped canopy.]

As I walked between prospective employers, I noticed the coral colors of many of the buildings. No facade was visually boring. There were bright hues to absorb and bombastic color schemes to overwhelm my senses.

[Image: Three separate photographs of buildings in BSL. Top Left: Outdoor restaurant table, the stools, wall, table, and balcony are multiple bright colors. Bottom Left: cream-colored house with bright coral shutters. Right: Hand painted address of 220 Main. Numbers are adorned in geometric patterns. "Main" is decorated in polka dots in front of a large paintbrush.]

A few days after passing out resumes I was hired by a small Italian restaurant situated in the old BSL City Hall. My fellow employees included the owner and chef Sonny, and the person who did everything else, Paula. Sonny spoke in a thick, often incoherent, Italian accent and was definitely not ever involved in the mafia. For the first few days of my employment, he referred to me only as "Michigan." Paula had a short temper, as anyone would under the amount of stress she withstood running the restaurant. After proving myself as a dedicated worker, it was never directed at me. 

I spent my days in Bay Saint Louis between Jean's house, the restaurant I worked, and the Mockingbird Cafe. I won't attempt to sum up everything I did in my two months staying there. It would be a disservice to the people I met, and all I gained from those experiences. 

However, I can tell you some of my favorite parts about the town itself, if you should ever find yourself there. 

All day and all night trains pass through Bay Saint Louis. Although, at first, this was a mild annoyance, it became a comfort of regularity. Soon enough, I slept through the horns that sounded at three in the morning. Some painfully slow days at the restaurant, the passing train was the only commotion I was allowed. The best view is by the beach, where the train passes over the bay. 

[Image: A railroad stretches from the left to right, shrinking into the distance. The track is built upon a bridge over the water and a train is passing through.]

Everyone takes their time in BSL. When people stop to say hello in public, that is never the end of the conversation. My northern sensibilities had me impatient the first few times it happened, but I came to appreciate it. Slowing down and being present with others feels pretty nice. Who knew? 

Adjacent to the slow pace was the hospitality I experienced while there. I felt genuinely welcomed into the town, into homes, and into social groups. I tagged along with Jean to many meetings and social events around the area. One woman took me to Mobile, Alabama to watch a Mardi-Gras parade with her family. Paula and I did yard work together at her Uncle's house. I made a friend, Brooke, who invited me to her house so I could love on her cats. I was a stranger to all of these people, and they treated me like family. 

[Image: A straight shot of the side of a building. A paper Mississippi flag is adhered to the wall. Over it the words, "MISSISSIPPI LOVE," and under, "A FLAG FOR ALL." To the left on the sidewalk is a trashcan with a "BSL" label. To the right is a fire hydrant.]

Due to its proximity, BSL has imported bits of New Orleans culture. Although the town had been hit by the storm, many New Orleanians relocated to BSL to rebuild after Katrina. Before then, the beachfront was occupied by vacation homes of New Orlean's more prosperous members. They brought the culture to the Bay long before Katrina hit, and it survived there even after those homes were destroyed. 

Mardi-Gras beads are used as decor throughout town. Other gaudy adornments, like the jewels of the mailbox below, are common. Although I came to Bay Saint Louis before ever seeing New Orleans, it was obvious these characteristics had come from that near-by culture. 

[Image: An archway in the middle of a picket fence. Each post is painted a different bright color and has a Mardi-Gras bead hung from it. From the archway is hung a rainbow-colored beaded curtain.]

[Image: A large mailbox is covered in plastic beads and jewels. Most have a golden shine, others are faux-precious stones.]

Even in a slow town, two months passed quickly. I saved enough money to make it to the west coast, where my next source of income would be.

On my last morning, I stopped for a coffee at the restaurant and said goodbye to Paula and Sonny. They both let me know I have a job if I ever make it back to the Bay. I then headed over to the Mockingbird for breakfast. I was greeted with familiarity by the employees. After paying for my food, I entered my phone number to earn loyalty points. I realized I would probably never receive my next reward.

I sat down and opened my computer for one last writing session. A regular struck up a conversation with me, curious about the work I had been doing there. We talked about writing, politics, and traveling. He told me he preferred BSL to New Orleans, that it was a special place. What are the chances he picked the day of my departure to approach me? I couldn't help but feel a tinge of nostalgia under the circumstances.

As we were chatting, my friend Brooke arrived to meet me. We had made plans to spend the day in New Orleans together. It would be my first day in the city, but the last seeing her.

I finished up my conversation and packed up my laptop with a final look around the cafe. Some of the art on the walls were the same as the first day, while new series had filtered in. The faded events from previous months were still visible on the chalkboard calendar. A few details had changed, but I felt just as welcome as I did my first day. I left Bay Saint Louis in much the same way I arrived: a belly full of my favorite meal and a warm heart.

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