If you ever get a chance to go to New Orleans... GO!!!
Or is it GEAUX?
Either way, everything you have heard about the place is true.
Well, the good things.
I can’t speak for the bad.
Because I didn’t see any.
Like any big city -- and New Orleans is a big city -- there are problems.
And the hurricane of seven years past has still left a crippling impact.
But based on where we went.
And what we saw.
And what we eat.
I can’t wait to go back.
I had always heard that New Orleans is one of the most dangerous cities in the country.
“Keep your wallet in your front pocket.”
“Don’t cross that street.”
I heard all that stuff.... and more.
And I’m sure there are plenty of horror stories that would justify those concerns.
But fortunately I was not one of them.
The people we met were among the nicest I have ever encountered.
Ever!
I went on the trip with my friend, who is originally from New York.
And the Southern hospitality really pissed him off.
“It makes me want to be nice,” he said. “And that makes me very uncomfortable.”
But he eventually got over it.
And started to feel right at home.
I was actually surprised how much the French Quarter reminded me of New York City.
A ton of restaurants.
Bars.
Shops.
It had everything a tourist would ever need.
Except a Starbucks.
Or McDonalds.
But plenty of bars.
PLENTY.
Our first night was spent at Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop.
The corner of Bourbon and St. Philip.
They claim to be “the oldest structure used as a bar in the United States.”
At a quick glance it doesn’t seem like anything special.
But make sure you walk inside.
All the way to the dark room in the back, where the piano is located.
Before I knew it, it was 1:00am.
A guy who looked like Jack Sparrow and sounded like Dr. John was banging on the keys, belting out the tunes.
That was definitely the high point of the famed Bourbon Street for me.
The rest of the street was quite disgusting.
Way too many people.
Way too many strip bars.
(Did I just say that?)
Way too much... yuck.
But travel one block to the south and you’re on Royal Street.
A much more civilized way to spend the night.
Two more blocks to the south and you’re on Decatur.
The home of the beignet.
Cafe du Monde.
We made our obligatory trip there for our first breakfast.
Because that’s what you do.
But I gotta be honest, it didn’t make my mouth go AMAZING, as I hoped that it would.
As far as donuts go, it was fine.
But I’d rather have one of them “Hot Doughnuts Now” at Krispy Kreme.
Any day of the week.
Fortunately right up the street from Cafe du Monde was a place to wash it all down.
Evangeline.
The home of the Bacon Bloody Mary.
Bacon-infused Vodka with a slice of the real stuff inside.
It definitely tested my theory that bacon makes everything better.
But this was actually quite tasty.
Especially at 11 in the AM.
There is no shortage of culture in New Orleans.
No shortage of quirky either.
Take Jackson Square.
That’s between Royal and Decatur.
We walked by the square around midnight and saw no fewer than 25 palm readers.
Just sitting at their card table.
Under candlelight.
Waiting to read your palm.
We stared, but didn’t stop.
One of the readers had a sign that said -- “Do you know what I am thinking now?”
No.
But what I was thinking was ... this is really weird!
During the day at Jackson Square, the palm readers were replaced by a different group of quirk.
“Cemetery Tours.”
The horse and carriages were lined up on Decatur, trying to sell me on seeing the dead.
We passed on that as well.
But that was not the end of the street experience.
Not by far.
Night and day the area is overflowing with people.
Artists showing off their work.
“Poets for hire” sitting at their typewriter.
And more musicians than the LSU marching band.
The instrument of choice in New Orleans usually involves something brass.
And these guys can really blow.
Down and around the bend from Bourbon Street is Frenchmen Street.
That’s where the locals hang out.
Well, where they used to hang out.
Before us tourists found out how cool it is.
Tons of bars.
Duh!
A bunch of music clubs.
Impromptu bands on the street corner.
On the steps of a building.
 |
| Courtesy my iPhone |
Everywhere you go, there is music.
Up until last week I really thought I loved music.
Then I went to New Orleans.
Let me tell you, that city LOVES music.
People spend eight hours a day at the Jazz Festival listening to music.
Then they go grab something quick to eat.
Probably fried and with crawfish in it.
Then it’s off to a local club to see another show.
Tipitina’s
Preservation Hall.
House of Blues.
Take your pick.
This city has more clubs than ten decks of cards.
The hot show while we were there was a band called Galactic.
Friday night at Rock N’ Bowl.
Actually make that Saturday morning.
2:00AM.
Don’t these people sleep?
Apparently not, the cover charge was $25 and the place was sold out.
My last night there we went to one of them late night/early morning shows.
This one at the Maple Leaf Bar.
Three bands, $20.
We made it in time for the 11:30 show.
11:30PM!
And that was the warm-up band for the 2:30 show.
This bar is no bigger than a basketball court.
A high school basketball court.
But these guys were cranking out music like we were at Madison Square Garden.
It was incredible.
I was arms distance away from some world class musicians who took me to a place I had never been.
For two hours.
By the end of the show, I was ready for a nap.
Which is all I had time for since I had to leave for the airport just three hours later.
