28 – 31 July 2023
Whenever we have mentioned to casual acquaintances that we were heading for New Orleans, they all break into a grin – ‘Wow – great! Have fun!’. It is a city of popular myth – and rightly so.
Its history is deeply entwined with the creation of the USA- its origin as a French settlement at the turn of the 17th century, its Spanish interlude, power struggles, plantation settlements with resulting African slave trade, the French sale of Louisiana and the ensuing results of the Civil war, ending in 1865. Modern references include the steamy play (and movie), Tennessee William’s Streetcar named Desire, and the tragedy of Hurricane Katrina.
Today, we see a large, busy city with typical downtown high-rise buildings, but with the difference of the gleaming jewel of the ‘French Quarter’, a city district also known as Vieux Carré.
It is low rise, with Spanish-style architecture, surprisingly like Casco Viejo, in Panama City, which we had just left. The dominant road, ‘world famous’ in the US, is Bourbon Street. This is party territory, lined with bars, each competing with recorded and live music, outdoing themselves in sound levels.
Peter had visited the French Quarter a long time ago, and remembers many bars with deafening jazz music. His hosts boasted then that this is the only place in the US where one could walk on the streets with a glass of beer legally. This is still true, and it still mystifies Peter that this is considered a big deal.
We stayed at a French sounding hotel, Le Marais, just off Bourbon Street. Ideal, to immerse in the atmosphere of the district, but not ideal for a good night’s sleep. It was noisy all those years ago, but that was NOTHING compared to now. It was acoustic mayhem, like the worst of nightclubs – but outdoors – and all mixed up, until 3am.
Crowds of revellers, in different states of dress/undress in the heat, less and sometimes more – much more – under the influence of ‘slush hurricanes’, daiquiris and cocktails on sale everywhere in tall plastic vessels. We felt it was too much. Perhaps a function of our age, but certainly also reflecting the increased commercialisation and groups of revellers there for a party weekend.
But then, we made a small expedition to a less frequented part of the Quarter, to find a French Croissanterie. This area was tranquil, if not sleepy. Charming buildings, quaint shops. Jewellery shops, art shops, book shops. And quiet, blissfully quiet. Also charming, was the street music – dotted all around the Quarter, a saxophonist, a blues guitarist, a crooner.
Our first day in NOLA (New Orleans, Louisiana) saw us board a ‘traditional’ Mississippi paddle steamer, for a combined river and Dixie jazz two hour tour. The sky was clear of clouds and the sun blistering. The crowds lined up patiently on the quayside in the scorching sun to get bags searched during boarding.
The interior of the boat was enormous, the crowds likewise. The chatter and shouts of the groups and families overwhelmed the loudspeakers, drowning out the interesting commentary on the city. Large television screens around the boat showed the three-man band, the aptly named Steamboat Stompers.
All in all, a disappointing excursion . However, things looked up. We aimed for the French Market, featuring the enormously popular Café du Monde, home of the perfected Beignet – like a Doughnut without a hole, generously covered with powdered sugar. A treat that instantly perked us up.
Our second day took us by bus up the Mississippi, to visit the Oak Alley Plantation. This was really well done – highlighting history, architecture and customs. We walked slowly around the slave habitations, with explanatory displays, we learned how sugar cane is cultivated and turned into sugar, and then we visited the owner’s splendid house, beautifully furnished.
We realised how important it is to preserve this history. Even though it is recent, it would be so easy just to forget about the reality of slavery, just seeing the lovely houses and immaculately kept lawns and gardens. To complete our visit, we indulged in a Mint Julep (Peter’s with Bourbon) on the patio overlooking the astounding old oak alley.
Restaurants were either terrible or wonderful – happily we stuck with the latter. Interestingly, our meal at the fine dining Tableau was cheaper than that at a gastro-pub, Sylvain. Despite the garlic filled Creole cooking, each restaurant devised something custom made and truly exceptional for Lynne. Not restricted by garlic, Peter indulged in Gumbo YaYa, Pasta Jambalaya, Bouillabaisse and fried Oysters, (not all at once).
Pasta Jambalaya Gumbo YaYa Mr B’s Bistro
It was with mixed feelings we made our way, early on Monday morning, to the Amtrak station, for unfolding adventures. Bourbon Street and the Mississippi boat ride were over-hyped and over-commercialised. However, the Vieux Carré was a delight in so many ways. We wandered extensively round it, with different excuses, looking out for nice breakfast establishments, with success, or searching for international stamps, a fail. Next time, we’d stay in a hotel a little further away from Bourbon Street.
