"A-holes and bin juice"

So Mandy was right about "if you think Savannah stinks wait till you get to New Orleans..."

Donna and I have agreed it smells like.. well.. read the title of the blog. It is REALLY on the nose! At least the French Quarter is, anyway. Walking the streets of the old gas lamp district is an assault to your senses: your ankles and feet are treading carefully along cracked and uneven footpaths; I've already mentioned the STENCH coming from everywhere; the grit, grime and grungy streets and decor offend the eye.

Donna and I managed to see nearly all of the neighbourhoods in New Orleans; we started with the French Quarter and then we headed East to Marigny and Fauribourg. It wasn't a far drive (in fact we didn't consciously do it) till we hit the Lower Ninth Ward, and boy oh boy - the poor really are poor here. So many people left when Katrina hit and the Lower Ninth Ward was wiped out - evidence is still clear of the devastation the flood waters left behind and many of the poor black people who populate this neighbourhood haven't been able to afford to come back and rebuild. We locked our doors (sad but true) and proceeded to cruise around, taking in the sights and lamenting the condition of mankind. Donna introduced me to a fast food chain that originated in New Orleans; Popeye's Chicken. I had the smallest meal possible and have to say, it was nowhere near as greasy as KFC and actually not that bad as it was all breast meat and if you just have the chicken, it's not too naughty.

We took a drive out to the Barataria Preserve and did a walk through the beautiful, haunting, HOT, bayous there (the National Parks have built a boardwalk through the bayous to prevent erosion and human interference with the fragile ecosystem). The bayou was fully alive with roaring insect noise; it fills your ears and sounds like a carefully conducted orchestra playing as you wind your way through the cypress trees sprouting out of the stagnant waters, pretty mini lily-pads and bullrushes provide a lovely green backdrop as far as the eye can see. After getting our fill of the heat (it was unbelievably hot, we couldn't bear one more minute of walking) we took a drive (yay for airconditioning!) to a plantation out of New Orleans city limits. A plantation built in 1792 that has seen so many different families and industries it has a very rich and interesting story, skillfully told by our tour guide, Ronnie. Tales of children dying from yellowfever; slaves uprising and burning down plantations along the riverbanks until eventually being tried in the upstairs parlour and executed by firing squad in the front yard; demonstrations of how to make the insulation in the house made from clay and dried spanish moss. It was voted attraction of the year in 2010 and it is easy to see why. Rich in history and intrigue, it was well worth the lengthy drive North-West.

We shopped, we ate, we drank, we ate, we shopped, we ate, we ate, we collapsed in our apartment with heatstroke. The heat is so utterly oppressive it is impossible to be outside for more than two hours at a time without feeling desperate to escape it. While we were at Destrehan Plantation, it began to rain. Big splotches of cooling water lazily fell down upon us, gathering speed until Donna and I just stood in the rain, enjoying the cooling sensation and feeling not in any real hurry to take shelter. We watched the dragonflies do their afternoon ritualistic swarming around the plantation grounds; fascinating and seemingly random dancing up and down, left and right. I did take a video but I'm not entirely sure it will really convey the intensity and the volume of dragonflies.

I had my first Po'Boy - and it was spectacular. Donna ordered gumbo, jambalaya and crawfish ettoufe and I tried all three. Tuesday I had been violently ill most of the morning and it wasn't until around 2pm I started feeling well enough to get up and explore the city.. Donna was very kind and spoke soothing words to me while I gingerly got out of bed and showered (note: do not eat oysters in New Orleans in a month that is void of an 'r') and eventually we managed to get out and about and start soaking in the Eastern districts.

We have also driven west and north, south and east, and of course explored the central neighbourhoods, and I have to say, my favourite neighbourhood is the Lower Garden district. Full of beautiful restored houses - this is obviously where the wealthier classes live. Tall, old oak trees line the streets and arch over the streets, forming that classic and incredibly pretty frame for each street in this district. The houses are close together, yes, but they have such character and are what I imagined when I thought about the inner city antebellum style properties of New Orleans.

Spontaneous live jazz makes it way down the street in front of our apartment every other few hours, especially from about 5pm onwards when it's more like 35oC instead of 38oC, and the men carrying the tubas and drums can manage to march down the streets without collapsing from heatstroke. It is amusing and entertaining, but after a while, and in combination with the heat (have I mentioned the HEAT yet??) all the noise just prompts me to retreat inside our apartment, close the heavy, well insulated door and block it out until I have drunk enough water and recouped enough to be able to enjoy the music, rather than be irritated by it.

Voodoo here is very alive and well, and it is fascinating to explore the holes in the walls the line the French Quarter, and after doing a bit of this exploring, I decided to go to the Voodoo Spiritual Temple. It was fascinating, and Priestess Miriam is very warm and inviting. She had me call her 'honey' when I left, and we shared a moment of genuine warmth and mutual respect. I went to an out of the way (i.e. NOT a tourist destination) voodoo supply store and met Felix, the owner, who also filled me with warmth and I strangely felt like crying when he showed me how to cast a spell and gave me the ingredients I will be taking home for someone I care about who needs a little help right now. F&F Candles is full of local voodoo and hoodoo practitioners, all trying to turn their luck around, and it smells like a spicy slice of heaven. No oppressive live magic here like there was in Hex Witchcraft yesterday; I had to leave the store almost as soon as we walked in because someone was casting spells at the altar in the store and it was cloying and invasive.

We have twice now eaten at a restaurant called Muriels, and I've decided I'm going to eat there again tonight, for my last dinner in New Orleans. I don't normally go to the same place twice when I'm on holidays, but Muriels is just perfect. I don't have to say anything else really; it is simply perfect. Fantastic, attentive, warm but not overly familiar service; relaxing and truly beautiful ambience; spectacular, inventive food; and it isn't expensive. There's so much on that menu that I want to try but I have a feeling I know what I'll be having tonight. I'll post photos on facebook!

Today as I was driving back to the hotel from doing a bit of last-day exploring, I saw the most amazing house, that Donna and I have driven past at least three times in the last four days. It is a perfect example of how nature claims back what man has made once man leaves. Vines and trees and flowers seem to strangle the abandoned property, in a haunting but beautiful kind of way. It is how I imagine a post-apocalyptic world to be.. ramshackle remnants of man-made structures, overcome with nature bursting her beautiful renewing life out of the cracks and crevices.

So I'm signing off from New Orleans (this blog's been a bit all over the place, but then again, so is the Big Easy, so I think it's rather fitting) - I'll chat again when I hit Atlanta.

Chat soon,
M x