New Orleans Feb 2018

Don’t Do As The Fools Do

As part of our continued effort to see more of the United States, we planned a trip to the Big Easy, aka New Orleans. Billy was supposed to join us but unfortunately, he came home the night before departure sick as a dog.

Jenny and I arrived at 9:30 at night and with the darkness, we saw nothing of our surroundings. After checking in, I decided I would like a glass of wine but the bar in our hotel was closed so I was told to head to the Ritz Carlton which is attached to our hotel. As the elevator doors opened on the bar floor, it went from a stale silence to a definitive, unmistakable auricular confirmation of where I was! The brass band blasting was certainly as great a welcome wagon as the lab and pit bull that jump on me whenever I return from even the shortest of time away from home. The bar was hopping, with well dressed persons and an in–the-know clientele and while I certainly felt a bit foolish zigzagging my roller board through the crowds, I loved the jumping vibe of the place.

I had told Jenny breakfast was at 10:00, so there was some opportunity for her to sleep in in the morning. We were out the door by 9:45, with just the right amount of time to walk the eight blocks to Brennan’s. Brennan’s is a New Orleans institution-it ranks up there with Gallitores, Commanders Palace and Antoine’s. Jenny and I were showed to a lovely table where we proceeded to have a scrumptious breakfast-French press coffee along with Eggs Benedict for Jenny and for me a very decadent Eggs Soldour (creamed spinach topped with a slightly crunchy artichoke heart, topped with a poached egg and finished off with a creole hollandaise), with a delicious house made biscuit and jam for desert!

Following breakfast we began to make our way down the infamous Bourbon Street. I had decided that daytime hours would probably be the better choice of time to see it versus the evening hours. I certainly wasn’t interested in experiencing all the debauchery that is said to take place along this stretch of infamous roadway.

Bourbon street with all its glaring neon signs detract from any architectural prowess that the street might have so after a few blocks of walking the infamous street, we cut over to Royal street to continue our walking tour of the French Quarter.

Royal Street was more dignified and it was here that one really saw the architecture that this area is famous for. Many of the second floor apartments though had hanging baskets and railing boxes that were dead-kind of an odd sight. After a few blocks of it though, I realized it must have been from the unusual cold snap New Orleans experienced a few weeks back.

Before we left home, I had kept reading about all the different places you will see and hear street musicians and it was here, on Royale Street, that the encounters began. The first group was seven quasi hippies (four on brass, one on drums, one on strings and one bass) playing some upbeat jazz; a block later there was a father, mother and daughter (maybe 15) trio that were belting out some more lively jazz. A few more blocks and there was a duo playing hill billy country music-what? I think they missed their bus exit a few states north. They were really so out of place and clearly not as enjoyed by the passerby’s as there was but one small group of women listening and when I gave them a dollar, it was the only money in their tip bucket!

Jenny and I walked on, enjoying that the crowds of people had thinned out but in keeping aware of our surroundings there were still plenty of people about. It was fun to see so many buildings decorated up for Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday was three days ago), including the trees shining with their bounty of beads hanging.

Upon reaching Esplanade Avenue, I knew we didn’t want to cross over as this is the eastern edge of the French Quarter and the beginning of the Faubourg Marigny area, an area that though gentrifying, wasn’t advisable for us to walk into. When we turned down Esplanade at first glance it was a lovely street, with a beautiful center divider planted with native bayou plants but it quickly turned a bit dicey feeling-with the camps of homeless people, many of them young hippie types, set up everywhere. The good news is we were not alone as others were walking along too but I made a quick turn back into the French Quarter on Decatur and found ourselves at the beginning of the French Market.

The French Market is billed as one long flea market (though I would call it mostly tacky tourist crap) mixed with food stalls of the local sort. Here we came across the heaps of steamed shrimp and bushels of oysters that New Orleans is famous for-I told Jenny that dad would have been all over it as well as enjoyed the comical “motha shucker!”

We then happened upon the offices of the National Park Service’s headquarters for the New Orleans Jazz National Historical Park, and while I had forgotten to grab Jenny’s stamp book before we left, we went inside and stamped a sheet to add to our collection. We had just missed a group playing African drums inside but one of the ladies was still there and letting people know that we could hear the drums later at 3:00 at Congo Square in Louis Armstrong Park. She also issued a stern warning to us-make sure we don’t go down any dark roads, to stay with the masses of people-something else I had already read up on before we left home.

We continued on toward Jackson Square and the famed Café du Monde. Though neither of us were very hungry, upon arrival, Jenny and I took our place in line to get a seat and try some of their world famous beignets. We were definitely fuller than we had realized because neither of us could finish our pillows of fried dough dusted (smothered really) with powdered sugar. It is definitely something you do not want to eat if you are wearing black. It also stood to reason with the piles of white powder that was present at every table’s feet, why we saw shops with signs that said, “No eating beignets inside.” The verdict-we thought them just OK, we much preferred the ones we had at The Beachcomber in Crystal Cove, CA.

After our quick stop at Café du Monde we walked up to an overlook that looked out to the mighty milk chocolate Mississippi on one side and St. Louis Cathedral and Jackson Square on the other side. There was a nice breeze that we both enjoyed as when the sun poked out from behind the clouds it was hot.

Jenny and I headed towards St. Louis Cathedral, walking around Jackson Square admiring all the artists that have their pieces displayed. We came upon a shoe shiner who had a sign out that said, “I ain’t gonna ask you where you got your shoes from. I ain’t gonna try and scam you. I work hard for my money.” Apparently there is a scam that goes on where someone will tell an unsuspecting tourist that they will bet them that they know where they got them shoes-the answer you gots them on your feet-they then demand money for the correct answer. I had read about this too before we left home and was familiar with why he had this sign. If I had not been wearing sneakers, I would have gladly paid this gentleman to shine my shoes!

We walked into St. Louis Cathedral, the oldest cathedral in the United States-founded in 1720 by the French, and were immediately met by the candle offering. Finally, I can light a candle for my father in the South, remembering how many churches I tried to and failed in in Charleston. This cathedral certainly doesn’t compare to the ones in Europe but it was nonetheless serene.

Upon exiting, we were immediately met by a group of young boys playing some mean jazz. Every now and then another boy would show up and pull out an instrument and join in. They were really very good and Jenny and I enjoyed watching them for quite some time, that is until something else caught our attention-a couple walking dressed as a pirate and his wench, and let me just say both Jenny’s and my mouth dropped when we saw the size of this woman’s boobs. OMG!!

As we continued walking, our ensuing conversation certainly brought a lot of laughs, and we were beyond amused with ourselves. About that time one of the artist’s works caught our eye and we stopped and purchased two wood block pieces of a trumpeter that was reminiscent of Louis Armstrong.

Having had enough of the throngs of people we decided to walk over to the river and make our way along the river walk back towards the hotel. Once up on the levee, the breeze was so refreshing we took a seat and just enjoyed watching the paddle boats and barges moving up and down the river. The spot was also great for people watching-there are certainly some characters in this city!

Back at the hotel we relaxed for an hour or so before heading out to dinner. Dinner tonight was at GW Fins-the #1 rated restaurant on Trip Advisor and boy did it not disappoint. Our dinners were amazing! Jenny opted for three appetizers-tuna crudo, tuna tacos and red snapper ceviche. I had a shrimp salad with fried green tomatoes and a parmesan crusted speckled trout. We both ate every bite and when it came time for dessert I thought I was going to pass until Jenny insisted I didn’t and said we had walked four plus miles today so it was OK. Well, I am glad I didn’t because I ended up eating every bite of my coconut samoa as did Jenny with her salted caramel ice cream pie-wow, wow, wow!

As we exited the building, there was a marching band going down Bourbon Street with masses of people following along. Turning to go back the other way (keeping with my plan to avoid Bourbon Street in the evening), I noticed far far fewer people. Hearing the words of the woman from earlier in the park office in my head, I told Jenny we were headed into the debauchery that is Bourbon street to get back to the hotel. Of course we literally just turned the corner and some girl is flashing herself to receive the beads that are literally hanging off every street sign, wrapped around every pole and dangling from every fence post and tree branch. Oh well-so much for well intended plans-I suppose the old adages are smart to live by-better safe than sorry, safety in numbers and don’t do like the fools do!

Our first day in New Orleans was certainly an interesting one. Tomorrow we plan on going to the Garden District, a far quieter and more genteel area than the French Quarter. It has been quite an experience, and we saw things we haven’t ever seen before-including the good, the bad and the downright hideous! We were just sorry Billy wasn’t here to share it all with us!

Sunday, February 18

Send Them An Email We’re Coming and Don’t Do As The Fools Do, Part II

This morning Jenny and I were headed to Ruby Slipper Cafe for breakfast-an establishment far different than Brennan’s with an almost cult-like following. I had read about this app called No Wait before we left where we could put our name on the list without ever having to walk in the door, so we took advantage of that and put our name in as we finished readying in our room.

By the time we arrived at our designated time, there was a mass of people outside but we waited no more than ten minutes before being seated. The menu was eclectic with a very cajun/creole twist and Jenny and I decided we would split our meals. We had an eggs benedict (this time with applewood smoked bacon and roasted tomato on a biscuit) as well as french toast batons- simply delicious!

After finishing breakfast we walked a few blocks down Canal Street to grab the St. Charles streetcar to the Garden District. The St. Charles is the oldest continuously operated streetcar in the world, having been in operation since 1835 and was designated a National Historic Landmark in 2014.

The ride along St. Charles was pleasant, with the refreshing breeze keeping things comfortable and the unique setting passing by. I had decided we would get off at Jackson Street to go and see Buckner mansion, a home that has been used in, among other shows, American Horror Story. Buckner mansion was built in 1856 by the cotton kingpin Henry S Buckner, who happens to be my 3rd cousin five times removed (we both descend from my 7th great grandfather). It is an opulent mansion and was built to compete with Buckner’s ex-partner, Stanton, that had the most luxurious mansion of the time in Natchez.

Jenny said I should have emailed them to let them know we would be coming and would love a tour of the family homestead, just like we had done at Ashlawn/Highland and Morven…funny girl she is!

Almost across the street, the pink Trinity Church was letting out from Sunday mass. It was at this church in 1870 that the sister of my great great grandmother Jennie Buckner, was married in, having retained the invitation in the family all these years. It left me imagining if perhaps there had been a reception held for them across the street in the beautiful Buckner mansion.

From there Jenny and I zigzagged up and down through the Lower Garden District, enjoying the magnificent mansions with their wraparound porches, sweeping staircases, and second floor galleries. The architectural styles are varied but I think Jenny and I both settled on liking the plantation styles best. Every now and then there was a smaller bungalow or a pair of shotgun houses mixed in but for the most part, they were all big!Even here, away from the parade routes, the majority of the houses were decorated in some fashion for Mardi Gras. Some of the most opulent of mansions had beads hanging around their wrought iron fences and dangling from their trees.

The Garden District is the antithesis of the French Quarter-quiet, clean, and green (though it was sad to see how many dead plants there were-clearly banana trees, ferns, palmettos and palms do not appreciate the cold temperatures). We enjoyed our time walking through these mostly deserted streets and escaping the mayhem of the Quarter.

At one point, we happened upon the famed Commander’s Palace-a teal and white painted building with matching striped awnings, as the well-heeled were arriving for Sunday brunch. Across the street was Lafayette Cemetery, the oldest municipally owned cemetery with roughly 7,000 dead in its one city block. The cemetery is non-denominational and non-segregated and still has burials taking place today. We decided to go and walk among those eternally resting, admiring the ornate tombs, all of which are above ground and may contain up to 30 family members in one tomb. We recognized a few last names-Kemp and Phelps and wondered where, if anywhere, on our family trees they might be.

The sun was out and it was getting a bit warm so Jenny and I thought it would be nice to go sit in Audubon Park for a bit. Back onto the streetcar we rode up St Charles passing one enormous house after the other. All a bit different, each as equally lovely with only a few truly ostentatious ones scattered about.

We exited the streetcar right at Audobon Park, directly across the street from both Loyola and Tulane Universities. Jenny was intrigued by both campuses beauty but was quick to point out that there was no way she could go to school there as it was only February and she was already sweating! Looks like it is going to be a northern or western university for her.

We enjoyed walking along the shady paths under the huge live oak trees and over to one of the ponds. There were hundreds of ducks-not too sure what kind and at least twenty turtles, some swimming, some sunning themselves on a rock. Jenny got a kick out of all the turtles so we stayed a while to watch them.

Feeling the need to find a shady spot to sit, we walked over to a fountain and plopped down on a bench in the shade of an enormous oak tree. Sitting there contemplating our next move, a family walked up with their pug who was grunting something fierce. The owner walked the dog over to the fountain and plopped it in where it basked in the refreshment the cooling waters brought on. A few minutes later, an unexpected sight of a group of horseback riders ventured up and brought their horses over to drink. Now there was the pug in the fountain staring at these gigantic beasts that were drinking and nosing the water into waves-quite an amusing sight. I found it interesting that they were all wearing cowboy boots riding in Western saddles as I would have assumed that English was the preferred saddle of choice in these parts-go figure!

After being amused by the pug, horses and an additional dog who ran around and around in the fountain playing stay away from his owner, Jenny and I decided to find the donut shop we had heard was so good. We hopped back on the streetcar and exited a few stops down, walking back through the Garden District to Magazine Street, where we found District Donuts. The restaurant was hip inside with a warehouse vibe and furnishings made from reclaimed wood and metal. We ordered up three donuts to try, strawberry lemonade, brown butter drop (really an oversized donut hole) and brownie batter-Jenny enjoyed them more than I did. We decided that the donuts in Charleston and ones we recently had in New Haven far exceeded these.

We had heard Magazine Street was supposed to have some great indy boutiques and such but we couldn’t really seem to find them. We walked one way then turned and walked another but decided that it was getting late and we would just walk back up to catch the streetcar back to the hotel before heading to dinner. This turned out easier said then done as streetcar after streetcar was already packed by the time it got to where we were waiting. Finally, by the fourth streetcar, I told Jenny we were just going to have to get on and stand otherwise we might be there til morning! We ended up standing next to two couples, who were seated one behind the other. They actually “entertained” us on the ride back as the two women had clearly been drinking and were slurring their words and telling ridiculous stories.

At one point, the one woman asks the other, “Aren’t you wondering why I’m not wearing my wedding rings?” I’m thinking the same reason I’m not wearing mine-because the last thing I wanted to do was flaunt anything flashy in a city that is known to have such a high poverty level and crime rate, right? Wrong! She’s not wearing them because she smashed her hand through the wall and in the process lost the “$25,000 diamond.” She then goes on to say, as she’s got her arm hanging out the window pointing, “Oops, I just almost lost my $400 bracelet.” Ok so now that she has announced she’s got money to everyone riding the streetcar, I’m hoping that all those people realize that just because we are standing next to these fools, we are not with them! I made the mental note that if they got off on the same exit as we did, we would turn the opposite direction than they did!

I find all of these encounters great learning experiences for Jenny. I like her witnessing this sort of behavior (including the foolish girl last night flashing herself) because she can see firsthand what an idiot one can make of oneself with drinking too much.

Jenny and I had a good laugh after they got off because they had been having this debate about how to pronounce New Orleans. One of the men had turned to Jenny and asked her if she was from there, to which she of course replied no. Afterwards she said she wished she had said yes and had a little fun with him telling him that in order to sound like a local, you need to pronounce it Noh• Or•lee•ans…too funny!

Dinner tonight was unfortunately not anywhere as good as the night before. The service was completely nonexistent for the first 20 minutes after being seated (though they did apologize profusely as well as give us an additional appetizer and comp us a dessert). The menu was almost so avant-garde that you were really wondering what it was you had just ordered. The food was really just OK. Jenny and I opted to split a whole deep fried fish-a new experience for her but a dish that is common to the South. She was a bit surprised it arrived with its head and eyeballs still attached though she was game to eat it and actually enjoyed it.

Our walk back from dinner found us in stitches-laughing so hard I am sure people thought the both of us drunk. What were we laughing at? Well I really don’t know. We were just being silly, Jenny especially, but it was the perfect ending to a wonderful day, spent with my girl!

Monday, February 20

Educated in New Orleans

Jenny decided we were going to get up and out earlier today and had chosen a place for breakfast a short cab ride away. Willa Jean’s was a great space and had a great menu. We settled on splitting an order of the griddled banana bread and then an order of huevos rancheros for Jenny and avocado toast for me along with two milk honey iced lattes-all delicious, and as Jenny said it was deserved after having walked over six miles yesterday!

Overly stuffed, we walked back to the hotel to pack our bags and set out in time to catch the first tour of the day at the historic Hermann-Grima House. The 6000 plus square foot house was built in 1831 for Samuel Hermann, the wealthiest man in New Orleans at the time. It was built right in the middle of the French Quarter, just off of Bourbon Street in the Federal Style-a most unusual style for New Orleans at the time, but both the size and style were done to attract the attention of townsfolk. Following the crash of the cotton market, the Hermamns had to sell the home to pay off looming debts and the second owners, the Grimma family, kept it until the 1920s. The house is furnished with many original pieces and gave a good perspective on what life was like in those days, both as a wealthy family and as a slave. The docent was quite good and gave us a lot of historical background on New Orleans at the time, including the history of the large percentage of free colored people, the code noir, and the slave trade.

All the while walking around New Orleans, we kept seeing signs with voodoo this and voodoo that. Intrigued by this, Jenny had stayed up last night reading up on voodoo to get a better understanding of it. She gave me a lesson on it over breakfast-did I know that it really has nothing to do with black magic? It isn’t something to be afraid of. That it more a religion than anything else? She then asked if we could go to the New Orleans Historic Voodoo museum (asking to go to a museum is a first for her!)

Voodoo first came to Louisiana via West African slaves, but it became syncretized with Catholicism and Francophone religion, its beliefs are quite similar, as a result of the slave trade and forced conversion. The most famous Voodoo queen was Marie Laveau, a free woman of color (the daughter of a white planter and a black Creole woman), and a devout Catholic. She held incredible power throughout the community as a whole and as such people would ask her for help. Today, offerings are still left for her, in hopes of her help, at numerous places around New Orleans but none as much as at the Museum.

The Museum was small but interesting-an eclectic mix of African tribal artifacts and the makeshift shrines of offerings that have been set up in every inch of the place. It is always fascinating learning about other culture’s traditions and how they have weathered the course of time.

Truth be told, when the idea of the museum first came up, I was a bit uneasy about it. Everything I thought I knew about voodoo I had obviously “learned” from how it has been racially portrayed throughout history and of course by Hollywood. Over the course of time, it has been portrayed by both of the aforementioned to be something to be afraid of; fear begets fear.

I am so grateful that Jenny is inquisitive, open minded and most importantly nonjudgmental. She doesn’t turn her head or believe she is above those who are different or have different beliefs; she is accepting. So thank you Cheech for educating me to what Voodoo really is versus what I thought I knew it to be.

In hindsight, it seemed rather apropos to be getting an education at this time, as yesterday when Jenny and I were standing at the gates to the Buckner Mansion, I looked down and noticed part of a black and white tile mosaic covered by leaves. Brushing the leaves aside revealed a quote by the 18th century English poet William Cowper that has resonated with me since, “From education as the leading cause, the public character its color draws.” Hmmmm….

In keeping with the voodoo theme, we thought we would go visit Congo Square, the area where both free people of color and slaves would go to express themselves spiritually, especially through song and dance, before being outlawed at the beginning of the Civil War.

Today Congo square is part of Louis Armstrong Park-named for the renowned jazz musician. It is still the site where people come together to sing and dance in native tradition and gather to celebrate.

Following a relaxing 30 minutes or so in the shade, we decided to return to Brennan’s, for lunch this time. We enjoyed it again as much as the first time, and enjoyed watching the waiter flambé the bananas foster, a dessert that originated at Brennan’s, for our neighboring table.

Upon exiting, Jenny took a notice to the Louisiana Supreme Court building directly across the street. She asked if I thought it was open and if so if we could look inside. I was skeptical of it being open since it was Presidents Day but alas it was open and completely devoid of another soul, except the security guards running the x-ray machine. We walked into the small museum that was inside (I know, another museum) and were amused by the two different Merricks that had held a position in the Louisiana judicial branch. From there we walked the long marbled halls, lined by portraits of Louisiana’s judicial officers, until we reached the elevator to take us to the second floor law library. Hoping it would be pleasing to the eye, it simply wasn’t but it is simply amazing the amount of law books that have been published!

Upon exiting the library, Jenny wondered aloud what there was to see in the fourth floor “coat room” the guard had told us about. Cracking up, I told her it was not the coat room he had suggested we go see, it was the court room! Too funny! After having a good laugh, we stood in the doorway and Jenny very astutely pointed out how intimidating it must be standing there with those nine judges, in a semicircle, looking down on you.

The Courthouse was a total unexpected stop but turned out to be enjoyable. The guards were clearly perplexed why two people from CT, neither of whom were lawyers or attending law school (they asked) were interested in walking around a Louisiana courthouse so it was kind of an added bonus to leave them wondering.

We were now running short on time so we made a few quick stops for last minute essentials (chocolates and creamed pralines) and made a beeline for the hotel to grab our bags and call an Uber for our 4:00 flight.

So some final thoughts on New Orleans: It was the most culturally different, sometimes shockingly so, US city we have been to. Jenny said Dublin’s Temple Bar area has nothing on Bourbon Street, but to be fair to the Irish, we weren’t there at the peak of their drinking times! Everyday, a few times a day, while walking through the streets, we were met with serious gag reflexes with different smells that would waft our way-I can’t say that has happened any other place before. The music and street entertainment was great and the food was some of the best meals we have had in one place traveling! We always have fun together, and New Orleans was no exception. I can’t say that it is high on my want-to-return-to list, but we certainly enjoyed our time in the Big Easy, we only wish Billy could have joined us!

And for anybody who likes some good old country music, check out the song entitled Marie Laveau by Bobby Bare-my friend Julie shared it with me-love it!