After the slightly inconvenient detour yesterday, we were thrilled to have an entire day in the Big Easy. I have never been here (Rick) and so was really excited to see the French Quarter. I have heard so much about it in the past, and the images of the French architecture raced through my mind.
We got going early this morning (thanks in part to the time difference of moving into the Central zone). We wanted to start the day with a walk to Cafe du Monde for breakfast. Daisy went with us, partially to fulfill her morning “needs” and partly to exhaust her so that Karen and I could spend some time enjoying Bourbon Street. The Needy Bichon is not fond of adventures, even ones filled with the smells pervasive in the FQ streets. It was during this walk, at roughly 8:30am, when I first experienced Bourbon Street.
It is a dump!
There are no other words to describe it. It wreaked of stale alcohol and disappointment. The pitted, narrow street gave way to even narrower and pitted-er sidewalks. There was a malaise that seemed to settle into the buildings themselves. This was a place built for one purpose – binge drinking and bad decisions. It was certainly not what I expected!
Following a wonderful chicory coffee and beignets from Cafe du Monde (yes, we ARE tourists!), we returned Daisy to the RV and got ready for lunch. We were so happy to be meeting one of Karen’s bosses from several years ago (Jerry) and his wife (Vicky), who now reside in New Orleans. We had a fantastic lunch of alligator, raw and grilled oysters, redfish, and shrimp at Felix’s. It was truly a pleasure to meet them both and I hope we get a chance to get together again in the future.
Following lunch, Karen and I hit a couple of bars (open at this point) along Bourbon. First stop was a Hurricane at Pat O’Brien’s, which is the quintessential FQ drink – and also absolutely disgusting. At least to me. But, it’s part of the experience! We watched a bit of a good rock band at another bar, where we were almost force-fed vile shots out of test tubes (don’t ask, don’t tell). We happened into an exquisite jazz bar called Fritzel’s and watched a very talented quartet while enjoying a Drambuie on ice (that was for you, Jimmy). Finishing our afternoon, we got takeout from Felix’s for dinner in the RV. This time it was Turtle Soup, Gumbo, Gumbo Ya-Ya, Red Beans & Rice, Jambalaya, and Crawfish Etouffee. As with lunch, the dinner was amazing.
I must say that, after experiencing a precious few of the Bourbon bars, I did enjoy a couple of them. There is a strange mix of obnoxiously dumpy bars and slightly more classy music establishments. Would I visit again? Maybe. The verdict is still out on that. A trip to the Big Easy, avoiding Bourbon Street, would be a distinct possibility. I need time to let my splintered image repair first.
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