A Day in New Orleans
A Day in New Orleans
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A restored home on the edge of the Vieux Carre.
Traditional architecture and afternoon festival crowds.
Waterfront Streetcar between the French Market and the
Mississippi River levee
The Versitalians educate me on their style of music.
The Mississippi is working river -- barge traffic was
evident but..
.. also plenty of tourist craft as well.
Quicktime Move
New Orleans is a city of colors; people, buildings,
flowers, clothing, music, art. New Orleans is a feast to all
the senses.
The bike is parked and shall remain so until I leave
tomorrow. Today I will be on foot. I explored the Latin
Quarter last night -- I think I will spend more time there
today. This weekend is a music festival and temporary stages
have been set up all over the Quarter.
After breakfast, I take a walk into the Quarter. It is
still early enough that there are very few tourists on the
street. Most of the trash from the night before is yet to be
picked up. Trucks carrying beer, liquor, food, linen are
queued up on every block delivering the goods that will be
needed by the day's festival-goers.
Street performers are also rolling in. One man has taken
up position in the middle of the street sitting on an upside
down five gallon pail. He has a wonderful voice, a rapier
wit and an out of tune guitar. He knows a range of blues and
rock tunes that he selects for each of his victims.
A man and woman approach him. The man is wearing a Stevie
Ray Vaughn T-shirt. The guitarist starts in on some very
good Stevie Ray Vaughn guitar licks. The tourist doesn't
make eye contact and strolls by. It is OK not to tip the
performer but don't think you can get away free.
The guitarist stands up and starts to shout at the guy:
"You wearing a Stevie Ray Vaughn T-shirt and you ain't even
goin' to acknowledge my guitar licks? You are one sad man!"
The attack is abated when an approaching group of
tourists catches his eye. He launches into his best Elvis
Presley "Wise Man Says" rendition. One of the women
brightens up asking "How did you know we were from Memphis."
He makes his pitch for a tip and the group answers "After
Breakfast." This is at least the tenth time that I have
heard this answer and clearly he has heard it many more
times. He responds, "How am I supposed to get MY breakfast?"
The tourists go into the chic eatery and our entertainer
begins a monologue with himself for the benefit of his
audience.
"You know, when I was a young black man, I never did know
what Elvis was singing." He launches into a spot on
impression singing 'Heartbreak Hotel' but with the lyrics so
slurred that they are unintelligible. It is like being on
Quaaludes during an Elvis "The Last Years" concert.
He has delivered a few good moments and I wander the
Quarter some more.
One thing I notice is that the houses turn a blank wall
to the street. But you can peek past some of the wooden and
wrought iron gates and see small garden spaces. It reminds
me a lot of the gardens of Andalusia.
Back at the hotel, I take a couple hours to catch up on
my journal writing about Houston and Austin.
In the afternoon, I go back down to the French Market and
out on the levee along the Mississippi. Three black young
men approach me singing. I admit to being a little
apprehensive as they approach. They get up close for their
performance. But they are putting their heart and soul into
it. When they get done, I interrupt the second number to ask
some questions.
The Versitalians have been performing together for about
a year. They are very proud of their singing abilities.
Specifically saying that it is much more of a challenge to
make a capella music without the benefit of technology. They
are all nice guys. Today's life lesson is about breaking
barriers. Everyone has a story to tell, ask a meaningful
question and the barrier will collapse. All it takes is two
simple skills: Listen and care.
Lunch is artichoke and oyster soup, followed by red beans
and rice with Cajun sausage followed by Sweet Potato and
Pecan Pie. Back to the hotel room for a nap before heading
back out into the Quarter.
The quarter is more alive tonight (Saturday night) than
last night. On Bourbon Street the crowds shouting for tits
is bigger and actually getting some satisfaction.
A group of motorcycles fills nearly a block of curb
space. Some handsome bikes including a Valkyrie with a
beautiful custom paint job. I get a chance to meet some nice
people.
I stop in at Lafitte's again for a beer or two (but not
five like last night). Michael greets me. Michael is wired
with a box and two leads to each wrist. I ask him if he is
wired for sound and he tells me that he is waiting for a
heart transplant. Boy that's a wake up call! Again I realize
that my worst problems are nothing. We spend an hour talking
about Elizabeth Taylor, favorite movies and DVD technology.
It is time for a late dinner / early breakfast. I cross
the street from Lafitte's to the Clover Grill I join the
rest of the drunks for breakfast. A drunk from across
Lafitte's comes in after me. He orders eggs and hash browns.
When the hash browns arrive they are deemed to be 'not
crunchy enough.' New ones are served. He promptly passes out
face first into the crunchy hash browns.
And with that cue, I decide I too need to rest my head a
spell. Tomorrow I head across Louisiana
bayous, Mississippi, Alabame to Pensacola, Florida.
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