New Orleans (once we had eventually arrived) was thoroughly awesome. Perhaps it was the fact the 8.5 hour never-ending, snail-motorised train from Memphis was finally over, or just that we were staying put for a few days so we could finally take a breath. Either way, we were both a little tired of burning through cities like the homeless people do cigarettes (Although for $4 packs of Malboro Reds you can hardly blame them - that's only 16 quarters!).
After unloading our packs, we headed South, out to the Garden District's Magazine Street to see what that was all about. Beautiful old mid 19th Century Revival and late Victorian style houses lined the streets with Oak trees. The beauty of the place was disturbed only by the angular raises in the pavement, as though the earth had attempted to violently burst forth, cracking the cement and unsuccessfully attempting to rear it's ugly, soily head. Suppose it's good for the skateboarders if they fancy a "grind", man.
We stopped in at Baru, (www.barutapas.com) a South American/Spanish/Contemporary bistro and tapa's bar, which some random lady had recommended to us in a laundromat. We split four tapas between us and were not disappointed! With delicious dishes of chuzos (skewers of skirt steak), guacabello (Portabello mushrooms with avocado, olive oil and lime juice), arepas (White cornmeal cakes, pulled pork, black beans (Be proud Mama!) and pickled onion) and Trio de Causas (Tuna and potato salad, avocado, quail egg and Peruvian olive aïol) all washed down with a delicious mango mojito, it was no wonder we had to waddle back to the hotel!
On the second day we headed North from our hotel, toward the infamous Bourban St. It was only a short walk away and we picked up breakfast on the way, with coffee's to go. It would have been no later than 10am and we were only when we were a block or two down Bourban Street when I realised Casey and I were the only two people on the entire crowded street with coffees! Everyone else had a plastic cup of lager held in their hand or was sucking on lengthy straws which led to flourescent plastic yard glasses filled with God knows what... Some animals even had both! Suppose that's why the almighty father gave us two hands after all.
We slammed our milky, alcoho-free bevvies and swung into the next bar (http://mardigrasdaiquiris.com/), which specialised in a drink called a 'Jester', and claimed to have been "crowned The World's Strongest Drink by Big Easy locals and visitors alike" and comprised of at least two different alcohols (which naturally I can no longer definitively recall), presumably Strawberry Kiwi Everclear & 151 Dark Rum all blended with slushie ice. Delicious, yes, but glad I shared it with Casey! Too easy to drink!
Vision slightly blurred, we stumbled off to Frenchman St, having heard it was a less touristy (and thus less seedy) part of the French Quarter. Perhaps it was too early in the day to tell the difference, but bar owners were still hosing last nights sick into the gutters as they had already done on Bourbon Street prior to us walking down it. If the gutters of Bourbon that homed that cloudy, murky, ominous liquid that WASN'T pavement-hosed sick, then I'd rather not know what it was.
We wandered back to the hotel to and took a few snaps on the way of ye olden horse poles and gorgeous drain covers. And of course, did a bit of shopping!
It was hectic trying to get reasonably priced accommodation for the Saturday night in NOLA. We asked the concierge at our hotel if there was a big event happening that night that we were not aware about, but only got a grunt in response. Non the wiser, we found our answer eventually in a cigar shop on Bourban St. Apparently it was the first night of parades for the Mardi Gras! And then Martin Luther King Day that Monday. What ignorant tourists we were!
We ended up going to the Mardi Gras parade, as it seemed rather rude not to, which was quite an experience. The streets were chockers with intoxicated individuals shouting and slurring and carrying on like a bag of pork chops. While waiting for the parade to start a fat, ugly, white skinhead pushed in front of a man right beside us who had been waiting patiently for the parade for longer than we had. They exchanged a sentence each and then the skinhead lost his blob entirely and punched the other guy in the face, then proceeded to kick him after he fell to the ground. He only stopped when the innocent mans wife got up in the skinheads face and shouted where to go. So that was a terrifying start to an otherwise pleasant night... The parade itself was fairly good, with explicit, over-sexed floats. Many of the floats made political references which Casey and I were clueless to, but the crowd seemed pleased, so we smiled along in our blissful ignorance. We had intended on having a wild night out, but were both a bit buzz-killed from the crazed skinhead performance we scored front row seats to.
On the Sabbath we rose, hosed and charged back out into the mean streets of New Orleans to eat ourselves into a dizzy frenzy. First we hit up the Acme Oyster House www.acmeoyster.com and ordered some oystery goodness and a pitcher of beer (Bud light & oysters for breakfast never tasted so good!). The restaurant is extremely popular and it's not hard to see why. With an impressive menu offering traditional southern meals such as Gumbo and Jambalaya, Casey nor I were not left dissatisfied!
Proceeded on our gustatory tour of New Orleans, we headed almost immediately to Cafe Du Monde (www.cafedumonde.com), which is world famous for its cafe' au lait, beignets, and the opportunity to people watch. We ordered coffee and beignets, which is essentially a square French pastry type thing literally covered in icing sugar (we're talking about half a cup here!), and were not disappointed... Although I think our caffinated-sugar rush would have evaporated any tears, so it's hard to tell, really.
We had a little time to kill so went into a tour guide shop to inquire about swamp tours. The man who worked in the shop was easily the most incompetent sales man I have ever met. He had no real interest in closing a deal, which I found baffling as I've spent my fare amount of time in sales (tragically mostly of the tele variety!) and know how imperative ABC is (Always Be Closing). No, this man had no interest in closing, whatsoever. Instead he complained of previous customers, drank booze while he gibbered nonsense to us about how ridiculous the Mardi Gras thing was (which was funny in itself because it pulls a mother truck of tourists into New Orleans) and in the end couldn't actually sell us anything, because his mobile phone didn't have any credit! Eventually I found a break in his nonsense and reminded Casey we were supposed to be meeting "Kate" on Bourbon St. My ingenuis plan was foiled when Casey responded with, "Don't you mean Beth"! Nevertheless, moments later we were sprinting down the street away from the Mr HopelessPersonified. Turns out we were actually meeting someone called Beth, so I suppose technically I won't be sent to hell for that cheeky lie...
We caught up with Beth (who had previously worked with Casey in S&N's Cytogenetics, and was now living back in the States) and her friend Kristen, who took us out for a lovely evening of cocktails (including Pat O'Briens infamous Hurricane www.patobriens.com), delicious jambalaya pasta and karaoke spectating!
I can't recall what time we got home, but think it may have been about 1am... Which was probably just as well because we were hiring a car early the next day to start our two day roadtrip to the land where unicorns are born, rainbows are always in the sky and if you use your imagination well enough, your dreams really will come true; Orlando!
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