New Orleans

This was always a lynchpin city in Chantelle’s idea for a US tour. It’s certainly one of the more evocative places to visit, based on what we see outside the US:  Voodoo, vampires, Jazz music, misty graveyards, the least shit James Bond film starring Roger Moore. You’ve no doubt seen or read something that’s left you with a distinct preconception of the place.

 
 

The street cars are a useful idiosyncrasy: clattering their way about town to a timetable that is more of a guideline than anything, apparently.  And unlike most vehicles, I do understand how these work.

They do give the impression they’ll fall over if you look at them cross-eyed, though

We stayed at the rather lovely Chimes B&B, whose hostess, Jill, made our stay in town delightful.  Both mornings we were there we spent at least an hour at breakfast, talking to her and the other guests.  I heartily recommend her house to you, should you find yourself in the area.  It’s named for the chimes on the front porches, by the way, which provide helpful guidance when you can’t navigate a simple grid structured street layout like I apparently cannot.

  

First Morning there we visited the World War Two museum, which i didn’t know was a thing to be seen here.  The exhibits and commentary are entirely from an American perspective - appropriately as it is their national museum on the subject- and illustrates the the militarisation and growth in industrialisation that transitioned the USA from it’s isolationist stance (with an army smaller than Romania’s at the time) to the interventionist superpower it became.  It also follows the stories of the citizens at the time, military and otherwise. 

  

 

As required, we visited Bourbon Street.  You smell it before you see it, as it reeks of vomit.  The bars and clubs that line it mostly have a counter facing the street, for selling cheap alcohol to pedestrians.  It’s a lurid cacophony of fizzing neon, scantily clad hostesses, lairy drunkards and blaring music.  Periodically, a wedding party will parade through, accompanied by brass bands playing “When The Saints Go Marching in”.  It is quite a singular experience. 

Apparently it smells better in morning; then it smells of vomit and bleach.

   
Pictured: the last days of Rome

As per Jill’s recommendation, we sat down in Fritzel’s European Jazz Bar, which is apparently the oldest run Jazz Club in town.  We hung around for a couple of hours, listening to the resident band.  We don’t know anything about Jazz, but we knew we liked it. 

  

Now I’ve read and consumed fantasy, horror and sci-fi in all media for as long as I can remember.  I’ve read most of the Anne Rice novels prior to her finding Jesus, and Stephen King books framed my formative years. That said, I found the evening ghost tour we did absolutely dull.  Actually, the tour itself and the various grisly stories behind various buildings were quite interesting (even though I mentally bookmarked every fantastically elaborate murder to check for embellishments on the internet later), it was all the trite ghost sightings and “And they opened his coffin and he was gone!” that do nothing for me.

Seriously, there’s 7 billion live people and 100 billion dead’uns. We should be knee deep in ectoplasm

If you are unaware of the ghost hunter vernacular, the big thing is to take plenty of flash photographs of supposedly haunted buildings and look for ‘orbs’ in the results.  These are apparently ghosts flicking in and out of the spirit world, being caught by the glare.  Oddly enough one finds these artefacts more frequently when you take pictures of glass windows.  I myself caught several spirits in the act right up to cleaning the dust off my lens.  I don’t mind people getting enthusiastic about this guff, as long as they aren’t allowed to vote afterwards.   Oh and there are actual vampires here too. Which is nice.

Chan looks thoroughly compelled

Our guide also helpfully pointed out the “real” witch's shop to go to for your readings and potions, rather than the charlatans one will find preying on the tourists.  Plainly I dodged a bullet there.

  
But does she weigh the same as a duck?

They do put a fair bit of effort into Halloween around here, appropriately:

 
 

Taking a culinary turn, the local delicacy to sample is the beignet.  It’s a square doughnut with icing sugar on top.  We tried the reportedly definitive example at Cafe du Monde.  It was alright.  I’m not sure many dough products can survive that kind of hype, though.

 

Finally, my favourite part. We had cooking lessons in the New Orleans School of Cooking with local chef Kevin Belton (coming to the Food Network next year). We were versed in the rather pragmatic philosophy of Cajun cooking, namely: use more of what you like, less of what you don’t and anything of what you have to hand. 
I now have a passing idea of how to make gumbo, jambalaya and pralines.  Yay.

 

I think Chef Kevin had it right when he said that New Orleans isn’t a tourist town, a place to see to check off your list. But it’s a place you return to again and again to just experience being here.

Kuzfassung auf Deutsch: Wir haben New Orleans besucht. Wir haben in einer sehr schönen Gästezimmer übernachtet und wir haben Cajun-Küche Stunden genommen.  Für die Aufzeichnung: Bourbon Street ist eine massive debauch und riecht nach Erbrochenem.