New Orleans

Thursday morning Charlie and I said good-bye and good riddance to Texas and put on our chillaxin’ sunglasses and headed east to New Orleans: NOLA, The Big Easy, the birthplace of Jazz and home of Cajun heaven, if you will.  Ravaged by hurricane Katrina in 2005 it is still known as the most laid-back city in the US.  A good friend told me the citizens pay taxes based on how much their property is worth so the whole city has a grungy rusted look and they keep it that way partially for the tax break and partially for the added character.  The dinge is just part of the charm. 

We checked in to the St. Vincent Guest House (which was more like a hostel than a hotel) in the Lower Garden District.  The place was dirty with worn sheets and the occasional baby cockroach, but an historic-beauty-under-the dirt like feel and it reminded me of my days in Central America so I didn’t mind a bit.  HOWEVER, I was informed by another guest that the compound used to be an orphanage run by nuns back in the day! I thought it was bogus, but sadly I looked it up…totally true!!! Ugh soooooo creepy…but I guess you can’t come to the most haunted city in the US without staying in a haunted hotel.  I like to think of it as the total package…gulp…

            After an early morning run on Friday I headed over to the World War II museum, which was only a few blocks away from my hotel.  I love history and am so glad I went! It is an amazing place with far too much to see in one day.  I was there for 3 hours and didn’t even explore all the exhibits.  In the adjacent building is a movie theater playing “Beyond All Boundaries” (A really emotional 4D account of the war starting post-Pearl Harbor through the surrender of Japan).  Spectacular.

            After working up an appetite I headed to a restaurant called Cochon for lunch and for my first taste of New Orlean’s legendary cuisine.  I was not disappointed. A warning to all vegetarians: stay away from New Orleans; you will starve to death. Their menu included everything from alligator mac and cheese laced with bacon fat to rabbit and dumpling stew.  I had an oyster meat pie and deep fried boudin balls (rice and sausage rolled into balls, breaded and fried) but wanted everything.  After I was nearly too full to walk, I waddled down to Canal street to hitch a ride on the historic New Orleans streetcar line bound for City Park.  It is the nations second largest urban park (bigger than Central Park) and absolutely lovely with multiple ponds and tons of birdlife.  It looks very swampy but elegant with bridges over the streams and cattails everywhere.

            When I finally got back to the hotel I met up with Mike, AmeriCore volunteer leader and Mr. Fix-It at St. Vincent’s.  He and I went and got some dinner in the French Quarter at “Huck Finn’s” and washed it down with mudslide daiquiris on Bourbon Street.  While I watched the pandemonium that went on there, I wondered where people like their booze more…the Las Vegas Strip or Bourbon Street New Orleans.  It’s too close to call.

            Saturday continued with fun as I started by wandering the heart of the French Quarter, Jackson Square, which is lined with artists, fortunetellers, street performers, horse drawn carriages, and lots and lots of people. I wandered up to the French Market where the air is thick with the smell of pralines, then down the river walk trail, which runs along the bank of the Mississippi River.  When my legs were begging for a break, I hoped a ferry across the way to Algiers.  Although sleepy compared to its compadre across the way and unspectacular, its streets are lined with the cutest antique houses I’ve ever seen.  Really detailed craftsmanship that makes for seriously unique architecture and continual vibe. 

After so much adventure crammed into two days only one thing sounded appropriate for the afternoon, a nap; which Charlie and I enjoyed until there was a knock at my door. It was Mike! With all the necessary ingredients to make fried chicken! He started up a cooking storm while Charlie and I waited salivating and took mental notes for future replication.  We had potatoes with onions and bell peppers for our side and chatted the communal kitchen at the hotel while I ate more than my fill.  Boy let me just say, it was amazing! KFC you have seriously just been put to shame!  After we cleaned up we walked back down to the French Quarter for dessert and what better place than Café Du Monde.  It has been a French baking/ coffee establishment since 1860 and still serves up the best beigets in town.  We each ate three (generously rolled in powdered sugar) and washed them down with hot coco.  What a wonderful day.

            While at the hostel I ran into another fellow traveler, Jason (who also owns an adorable black and white Chihuahua!), down for the weekend from St. Louis.  We met up early for breakfast at an Irish restaurant before I took off Sunday morning.  It was delicious (naturally) and an amazing way end to my stay in an amazing city.

            I should probably say I almost didn’t come to NOLA because I was told it was so dangerous.  Allow me to set the record straight.  It is exceedingly dangerous for your wallet, horrifically perilous for your midsection, and mildly annoying for your moral values. Do you have to be careful and aware? Yes. Do you have to keep your wits about you? Yes.  Just like any other city it has its good and bade sides, but for the most part, is meant to be enjoyed not feared. 

New Orleans has soul.  I’m not talking about beauty or street cred or glamour (although it has those too); I mean a real deep soulful feel.  It probably comes from years of historic turbulence and continuing superstition mixed with healing due to Katrina, but you can hear it at night in the clubs and in the river barge horns.  You can see it on the scared buildings and in the faces of those who call them home.  It’s everywhere and it seeps into your very core, absorbing you into the city.   You feel while your there, however short of time, that you belong to the city, it to you and you share all the same history and trauma.  New Orleans is a city unlike any other. It takes the cake, and the gumbo, the jambalaya, the beignet, the bread pudding, and the whole hog… whatever it is, New Orleans takes it all. 

After spending a few days stuffing myself into Creole bliss, keeping the very best of company, and walking until I thought my legs would fall off, I thought; could this be this place for me? Maybe.  It’s a definite possibility.  Could I see myself as a big southern woman sitting on the porch of a turn of the century home drinking iced cucumber water on a hot afternoon? Without a doubt.