Day three of New Orleans I was on my own so I headed back to the French Quarter and had beignets at Café Du Monde, a fried dough pastry hidden by a mound of powdered sugar. I then checked out the inside of the cathedral, which had a gorgeous interior. The stained glass windows were so impressive, and the Stations of the Cross were in French. The cathedral also paid a deal of homage to St. Anthony, so I took a good long while to show my deepest appreciation. I had lost my cell phone during the wild night on Bourbon Street, and it was miraculously returned to me by a cab driver. I had no one but St. Anthony to thank for that one.
I then strolled for hours along every possible side street, popping in and out of collectable shops and art galleries. A poor curator actually thought I had $3,000 to buy a painting - I really am not sure why. Maybe the pearls I had just bought at the French Market suggested a bigger bank account? At the French Market I went to the various venders, trying on Mardi Gras masks colored in blues, purples, golds and silvers, glitter, pearls and feathers. Alligator heads greet you at every turn, beads dangle from every surface. Local art and pieces of jewelry line the tables. It was pretty neat – and cheap!
The amount of stores I could enter was endless, but I had to head back to Esplanade, another street lined with live oaks, banana trees, bright flowers, and balconies.
Day four, my last day, I headed back to the French Market and was determined to eat Jambalaya. Ever since I had studied New Orleans in French class, I’d wanted to try that sticky, spicy rice dish. So I plopped down at a café, ordered up a bowl and a daiquiri, and let the jazz band play. It hit the spot. I then sampled some local pralines on my way out of the neighborhood, and as I returned to S’ house, I was dreading the fact that I was going to board a plane in a few short hours. On the walk, I literally stopped and smelled the roses growing on a stranger’s lawn, and they were delightful.
What amazed me about NOLA was how there was so much music playing, yet none of the sounds interfered with each other. I expected a cacophony, but somehow either they just worked in sync, or you couldn’t hear one band before you hit the next. At one end of a little road island there was a jazz band, at the other was a brass band, only separated by a praline shop. But - it wasn't a musical disaster, it was just a natural flow as you moved down the sidewalk. The people were just as friendly as I expected, and the food was exceptionally good – gumbo is on my list for the next trip I make there.
New Orelans is a city that just wants to have fun, and wants to make sure you have fun, otherwise it hasn’t done its job right. I didn’t have a Springbreak-esque vacation of debauchery. Instead it was just fun, and refreshing, and while extremely hot, it was enlightening in so many ways. I’ll be back in the bayou, that’s a promise.
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