...also known as The Big Easy, The Crescent City, or Nawlins. Kate and I just returned from a two-day New Orleans getaway, and I'm here to report that we can't wait for a chance to go back.
We chose a wonderful time to visit. The first Mardi Gras parades were scheduled to begin on the day we were leaving; as a result we were able to experience much of the excitement and anticipation of Mardi Gras with very little of the accompanying vomit and random puddles of urine.
Seriously, the town fathers of this unique city have had to find a way to clean the streets of any number of objectionable liquids during this month-long hedonistic celebration. Each morning specially equipped street cleaning trucks make their way through the French Quarter spraying a lemony substance that washes away the previous night's deposits and leaves the Quarter fresh, clean, and ready for another evening assault by thousands of people who enjoy the good ol' American value of three-for-one drink specials offered by many of the bars during Happy Hour.
Last year I was one of them and came perilously close to mistaking the hotel coat closet for the bathroom. Thankfully, the tiny area of rationality left in my brain was, at the last possible moment, able to determine the difference between the two (one of them is used to hang coats) and tragedy was narrowly averted.
Let's call it a rookie mistake.
This year I swore an oath to moderation and had none of those close calls.
NOLA is an easy 4-5 hour drive from our place in Florida along amazing Interstate 10. I say amazing because this highway runs from the Atlantic to the Pacific and there are NO CURVES. It's kind of the Twiggy of Interstates. It's 75 MPH all the way through places like Mobile and Biloxi and the next thing you know you're crossing the Pontchartrain causeway to New Orleans.
We stayed right in the middle of the Quarter, one block off Bourbon on Conti Street at the Prince Conti hotel. We had stayed there last year and felt it was a nice, clean place that offered good value. Unfortunately, our first night's room faced the street which was filled with revelers right through the night. Here's a little clue to all people who drink too much: LOUD ISN'T FUNNY! We were able to switch to an interior room for the second night and weren't bothered by the madness outside.
The main New Orleans attraction for Kate and me was the opportunity to hear all kinds of live music. Over the space of two nights we heard the following: the fabulous house band at Preservation Hall playing traditional New Orleans jazz, a trio of operatic singers performing in the lounge of the Ramada, an absolutely kick-ass R and B ensemble, complete with a three-piece horn section and a spectacular lead singer, ripping it up at Fat Catz on Bourbon, a smooth, late night piano player/vocalist coolly performing Cole Porter and other standards at the Bombay Lounge, right beside our hotel, a fiddle-guitar-washboard trio dedicated to "ol' timey" music from the twenties and thirties playing at the Three Muses on Frenchman Street, a phenomenal house pianist who could and would play absolutely anything at the same location, and, finally, to our amazement, the youngest Marsalis sibling, Jason, playing first rate vibes with a brilliant guitarist and piano player back at the Bombay Lounge. This last act was an absolute wonder. It was the type of jazz that I've loved since I was 15 years old. Songs like Stardust, Willow Weep for Me, Whisper Not, Peace and others played lovingly and intelligently by masters of their instruments. What conversations there were were subdued in deference to the music. It was magnificent ensemble playing with the whole being very much greater than the sum of its parts. Pure magic.
And it was free.
Food is another NOLA specialty, and we were not disappointed. One of the gentlemen who works at my golf club comes from New Orleans and had a few restaurant recommendations for us, not the least of which was the Central Grocery, the home of the original muffaletta sandwich. Don't worry, I didn't know what it was either; however, I am here to tell y'all that it is a real treat. Other than salami, I don't know what's in it but, man, was it delicious. One of the best sandwiches this chubby traveler has ever et, and that includes the hard salami from the G&G and the Italian sub from Go Go's in Hanover! High praise indeed.
We took the delightful St Charles streetcar through the garden district to the Audubon Zoo, directly across the street from Loyola and Tulane. What a treat it was to stroll around this excellent park, watch the two Asian elephants get their exercise, see the nastiest, hugest Anaconda ever, stare down a menacing Silverback gorilla and assert my dominance over him,(Actually it was Kate who stared him down; I was hiding.) witness two beautiful, massive white tigers lounging in the sun, and laugh at the derring-do of a baby orangutan joyfully climbing and leaping at impossible heights.
Great music, great food, and a delightful zoo.
Now I know what it means to miss New Orleans.
Ain't life grand?
J
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