New Orleans

I spent a weekend in New Orleans with some friends, and have concluded that New Orleans is my favorite city in the entire United States. If New Orleans could be personified, it would be some type of eccentric deity that inhales magic, exhales jazz, tastes like bourbon and mint, and smells of paprika, garlic, and bacon fat. Around its fingers would be vines of ruby red tomatoes, and nets filled with squirming shrimp and crawfish. It would lay out warm stews thick with spices that remind you of what home should be, while tossing handfuls of colored foil confetti and knocking over your drinks.

The French Quarter

Another Street in the French Quarter

It's about 3 hours from New Orleans to New York. When we arrived, I had been dismayed to learn that there would be scattered thunder storms the entire duration of our trip. It turned out to be a good thing, in some way, because it was not as hot. Before our trip, people had warned me that New Orleans has summers with swampy, humid air and blistering sun overhead. With the occasional rain there was humidity, but the clouds shielded us from the sun and the temperature was very comfortable.

We stayed in the French Quarter, a charming area with old buildings and elegant terraces draped with flowering, vine like plants, and streets lined with lanterns lit with flames, not bulbs. Our hotel was in a great location, although check in was at 4 pm and check out was at 10 am, and it would have been nicer to be able to get into our rooms earlier since we arrived at noon and were exhausted from the early morning flight.

Jazz band in the street

Jazz music saturates the city, almost like a heavy aroma. Everywhere we turn, there is a jazz ensemble or band playing live music--in the park, on a street corner, by the river. All of them play well, but then again I'm not a jazz expert so my standards are fairly low. There were a few weddings, for which the couple had a mini parade through the streets, trailed by their friends, wedding party, and a marching band. We happened to be there for the gay pride parade. While standing in line, there was a girl from Minnesota who said, "this is so overwhelming." Their parade was nice, but I have to say it's not much compared to New York, where I think there is an enormous, blinged out parade of some sort every weekend.

There are two main streets for night life. Bourbon street is like a giant college party with neon lights, mardi gras beads, and sugary drinks. Frenchmen street is where most of the locals, who seem to hate Bourbon street the same way New Yorkers hate Times Square, go. We went to both.

Somewhere on Bourbon Street

As you walk towards Bourbon street, it smells like homelessness, urine, and garbage. Along Bourbon street there are numerous stands that sell nothing but alcohol, for very cheap. I used to like sugary drinks when I was younger, like daiquiris, but now find that I can no longer drink them. Popular drinks come in long, skinny, portable plastic cups with some type of colorful design, like a jester or a turtle. One vendor also gave us oreos covered in praline, which was good but too sweet for my taste. Everyone kept telling us to try the hand grenade, another sweet drink, but after having the jester and the turtle we couldn't drink anymore sweet beverages. Supposedly the hand grenade is very sweet and hides the liquor taste so you end up getting drunk very quickly. Bourbon street is full of dance clubs and strip clubs, and balconies where men (and women) dangle beads that they purchased for a dime in the hopes that some lady will flash her boobs in order to get them. Apparently it works (often), and a lot of boobs are flung out of bras for a cascade of shiny plastic beads. There are beads everywhere, so in theory you could even just pick them up off the ground if you really wanted to be cheap. Bourbon street is worth going to and is fun, but also kind of gross. We stopped to sit down since we were tired, and some random man ran up to my friend and started licking her foot. She started screaming and then he left, and proceeded to crawl around among the crowd and do this to other women. So maybe wear close toed shoes if you visit, and watch where you step since the street does have the occasional puddle of vomit or pile of horse manure.

The Market at Frenchmen's

 Frenchmen street is like Bourbon street's older, more sophisticated cousin who has a job and no pending restraining orders. I liked Frenchmen street more than Bourbon street; it's like a pantry full of jazz. At night it is lined with lights and jazz bars, and has a small outdoor flea market at night. Some of the places charge cover, and it seems most allow smoking indoors, which I didn't like. We went to the Balcony Music Club, which featured a jazz band that was very good. Too bad I forget their name. The sax player in particular was very energetic. He gave us what is likely my favorite quote about the city. He said, "There is something about this city that does things to you. I used to be an okay saxophone player. I mean, I was good, but nothing really special. Then I came to this city, and it seemed like overnight my music was better, it became spectacular."

Line up at the House of Blues

Jackson Plaza

During the days, we walked through the French Quarter and visited boutiques. Most of the boutiques were overpriced, since they target tourists. Around Jackson Plaza (or Park?) many artists sold their paintings. One that I liked in particular used automobile paint. He would drip the paint on in several layers, and the resulting painting would look like it was made out of the hood of a car. He would paint lanterns and the night sky, and use glow in the dark paint for the moon and the lights. In front of the church, there were tables were fortune tellers sat, ready to read tarot cards, palms, or astrological predictions. There were a few voodoo shops and occult boutiques that sold charms and spells--candles to help heal the heart, ward away evil, or even prevent your partner from cheating. A palm reader said to me, "As you go through life, everything that happens is written on your hands. Look at mine, and look at yours." She was in her 80s, and her palms were thickly creased and lined with so many wrinkles that it looked like a series of mountains and valleys, while on mine the skin was still stretched taut with some darker lines, but most no thicker than spiders webs.

Artwork made with automobile paint

In the afternoons, we walked through the French Market, and had drinks at a piano bar called Pat O'Briens. The French Market is a flea market of sorts, selling carnival masks, pendants, painted leather journals, and candles. There was a candle stand in particular that I regret not buying from--they were made from soy wax, and the scents were accurate and potent. I had considered buying their lilac, tomato, and sandalwood candles but worried it would be too much to fit in my backpack. At Pat O'Briens, we listened to live, piano renditions of some old classic rock and country songs, and tried hurricanes, bloody marys, mint juleps, and iced teas. They have a flaming fountain in their patio area, and lanterns made of stained glass.

I'm not sure where to even begin in a narrative about the food in New Orleans. Good Southern, Cajun food seems to be harder to find in New York than authentic Asian food, in my opinion. We walked through the French Market and bought boiled crawfish by the pound at J's seafood. It was still crawfish season, and the crawfish were plump, deep red, and full of flavor from being boiled along with whole bulbs of garlic, celery, shallots, and cajun spices. Fried crawfish tails were good, but not as good as the boiled ones.

My friend order alligator sausage and turtle soup. I tried both and they were just okay.

Crawfish by the pound at J's Seafood

We ate oysters four ways--raw, fried, charbroiled, and a la creole. All were superb. Charbroiled oysters were grilled in their shells and doused with butter, garlic and parmesan cheese. The oyster a la creole are fried oysters served on top of spinach artichoke dip, drizzled with what looked and tasted like chipotle sauce, served on the shell.

Oysters Creole

We waited over 1.5 hours at Acme Oyster House, and it was good but not worth the wait. Felix Seafood across the street was much better. The fried catfish was flaky and melted in your mouth (in a good way), and the fried softshell crab was one of my favorites too. Well everything was my favorite. The bread pudding with whiskey sauce, and pecan pie were good but not so much better than in New York.

Shrimp and grits, crawfish etoufee, rice and beans--the best rice and beans I have ever had in the entire world is in New Orleans, and I don't even like rice and beans normally. They probably cook their beans in pork fat. And gumbo--we had five different types of gumbo, with the best being the seafood okra gumbo at the French Market and the chicken sausage gumbo at the Gumbo Shop. Country gravy over pork chops was also spectacular. Everything was spectacular. It was like Thanksgiving rolled in creole seasoning multiplied by ten.

Rice and beans, gumbo, and etouffee, hush puppies, fried seafood platter

In the end, we left (and had a horrible experience with Delta that isn't worth mentioning in this post dedicated to the awesomeness of New Orleans) wishing that we had more time. There were many things that I wanted to see, but did not get a chance to since we were too busy eating. Since we got a $300 voucher from Delta (which actually does not compensate for how awful they were), perhaps we will return again this summer.