New Orleans

   

The day was sunny and pleasant, an encouraging sign. We caught the bus across the street and bought passes (which we were told were good for the weekend). The bus ride was longer than expected, we seem to be a long ways out. Then, we transferred to the Canal St. streetcar. After about an hour, we walked into the French Quarter along Bourbon St., which has to be the loudest and most crowded street in America. We ended up in New Orleans on a weekend, with the added kicker of Spring Break. Aren’t we lucky? The French Quarter is all about jazz (and commerce). One of the first things we saw were some statues honoring jazz greats.

There are buskers in the Quarter, but the first (and most common) ones we saw were young boys sitting on plastic crates and beating loudly on the bottoms of five-gallon pails with drumsticks. They were pretty good, but you can hear them for two blocks.

We looked into a couple of shops (mostly tourist goods, “gringo curios” as Jean called them) and checked out the 2-Sisters restaurant which had been recommended. At $32 a pop for the buffet, we decided to pass. Instead, we headed toward Jackson Square, the most famous spot in the Quarter.

 Our goal was the Café de Mond. This place is supposed to have the best beignets (which they call “French donuts”). There was a line almost a block long, but what the hell? we joined it. The line actually moved pretty fast, so the wait wasn’t as bad as it looked. While we were waiting in line, two motorcycle cops came down the street with their blue lights flashing. They were leading a protest march against guns related to the Florida school shooting. It was a big protest, with lots of interesting signs. And they just kept coming and coming. The line had to be at least a mile long. We were in the crowded restaurant and eating before the end went by. Impressive.

There are a few benches on the streets around Jackson Square; that is the only place you can sit down and rest. We were lucky to find an empty one a couple of times when we needed them. The fence around the Square is covered with paintings for sale.

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There are also people advertising other things.

Up the street a ways, you can get a personal poem.

No pictures of the French Quarter would be complete without some balconies.

 

We wanted to go to Preservation Hall and hear some live jazz. We asked a local, who gave us wrong directions. After determining that she sent us wrong, we asked some hotel employees, who had never heard of it. So much for tapping into local knowledge. Our extensive wandering showed us that much of the Quarter is residential and not busy at all. All the commerce (and tourist interest) is in the area from Bourbon St. to Jackson Square. With all the traipsing around, we were tired and a little disgusted, so we found our way back to Canal St. and the streetcar, and headed back to the ranch.

The next morning (Sunday), we slept in. We decided we only wanted to find Preservation Hall. Jean looked it up on the internet and found an address (we had a street map of the Quarter). It also said it was active from noon on Sundays. So a little after 11:00, we headed back to the bus stop. When we got to the streetcar, we were told our passes had expired. We needed to buy another trip. The problem was that none of the public transportation gives change, you have to have the exact amount, which we didn’t have. One of the passengers bailed us out with 70 cents and we were able to complete our trip.

Plunging back again into the French Quarter (not on Bourbon St.), we passed several buskers in our search for our goal. One was a woman playing a heavily amplified violin.

There was also a guy dancing in the street to the music, but he moved too fast for me Shortly after that, there was a whole jazz band set up in the middle of the street. (By the way, the streets are open to traffic.) They put on a good show, and we stayed to listen for a while.

We moved on and were able to find Preservation Hall. It was built in 1826, and looks like it.

When we got there, we found out that the music didn’t start until 5:00 o’clock. So we had to make do with a couple of CDs. We also found out later that, being a small venue, there were usually long lines by 5:00. We had tasks we had to do back at the rig, so we bid a not too sad adieu to the French Quarter. Tomorrow, we head out for the last little bit of the Great River Road, and maybe look around Cajun Country a little.