Down in New Orleans...

New Orleans, Louisiana. U.S.A.

It was 6pm. I sat outside in the garden, rocking gently back and forth on the rocking chair. The old fashioned kind - White wicker - just like on the porches of American movies. It was 6pm but still so warm. Humid, and probably around 30 degress, I guess you'd call that hot, really. The air was heavy and clung to me, and a sweet smell of orchids filled the air. A little cat I had nicknamed "kitty" lazed nearby, and Karlos sat on a wicker couch next to me, beer and laptop distracting him. I was peaceful. Still fighting my stomach virus, but otherwise really peaceful.

6.05pm the clock said. Time for tea? Time for a shower? Time for a walk? I pondered these options for a moment or two, before realising - it really wasn't time for anything. In this lifestyle I'm living, time is nothing more than a number. A countdown to sunset, but no longer indicative of anything more than that. We had no agenda, and no timetable, and so I continued to rock gently back and forth and breath in the sweet, warm air. Happy to be here, in New Orleans...... when we were ready, we'd get up. And it was this presentness that kept me peaceful.



***

After what had been an eventful and rather sickly 48hrs in Houston, (we did manage to go back to NASA to finish our tour though) we drove even further south, to New Orleans, in search of a streetcar named desire...

I truly fell in love with New Orleans the moment our car cruised into the city streets. She's a special place.

And it wasn't just the architecture, the raucous, bawdy culture, the witchypoo voodoo, street after street pouring out live music, and the beignets (read best doughnuts in the world) that I fell in love with - oh no. This is truly an amazing city - a city that has experienced such hardship over the years - hurricanes, floods, oil slicks - yet continues to show her visitors the best time. This isn't a wealthy city, but it is rich in spirit. And every city path you walk, every wall you pass - radiates easy, breezy, good times...

"Enjoy New Orleans," a local passerby yelled down the street to us.

"Oh we will!" we replied. We already were.

Our first stop had been to find a place to stay. We cruised around back streets looking for cheap hostel style lodgings, thanks to the directions from our trusty GPS (aka Lori), but we figured that if these 'wooden shacks' looked dodgy by daylight, then they probably weren't going to be the ideal location for drunken walks home... at night. We were starting to get a bit desperate to find somewhere so we could ditch the bags and start exploring - so when we eventually found our hotel we really thought we'd struck gold!

For a start, it was the cutest, and I mean THE CUUUUTEST, hotel in the world. It was a pink building on a quiet street, 3 blocks from Bourbon St. Boom! The moment we walked into the lobby we were surrounded by the smell of orchids, and the friendliest hotel staff I have ever experienced. Locals of New Orleans, all retirment aged, white haired males, who took great care in ensuring we were happy, and saw the best the city has to offer...

Our second stop was to find a bar. And we didn't have to walk far. On the corner of a street with gas lanterns burning, and inside an old colonial house, complete with oversized bay windows and wooden seats with tattered cushions, we found a bar. A bar playing our kind of music and serving cold beer - Coronas, with large wedges of lemon jammed in. We found ourselves a window seat and watched the horse and carriages clip clop past outside. Smells of horse manure drifted in through the window and lingered in the heavy, humid air, before a new smell swung by. Spilt ale. The flower from a nearby tree. A passerby's cologne. This city was kinda dirty, and grimy, in an incredibly endearing way.



And the rest of our days in New Orleans were much the same... feasts for the senses. We walked the city streets, gazing in the windows of colourful voodoo shops and occasionaly stepping in... only to find exorcism kits and to swiftly turn around again. We walked the city streets, passing doorways spilling out jazz music, and we walked the city streets watching buskers and street artists, and avoiding tauts who wanted to shine our shoes, or guess where we were from for a quarter. We walked the city streets to the banks of the Mississippi river, and around Jackson square where we tiptoed around horse dung, and crowds of people, and then found a seat in the bustling Cafe du Monde, amidst pigeons and coffee addicts, and sprinklings of icing sugar from the delicious beignets. We walked the city streets and hid from the blasting afternoon sun under the canopys of market stalls, buying fruits. We walked the city streets at night - on Bourbon St - past strip clubs, and jazz bars, and venues playing live rock music with barmaids wanting to serve you shots from their mouths. We walked the city streets at night and met friendly souls, and bought slices of hot pizza, and ran to bars playing music that we loved... we walked the city streets of this place, together, and we breathed the air of this place, and found something that cannot be named. A place that is warm, and lovable, and full of any colour you can imagine. A place that must be experienced.

New Orleans shares herself with anyone who wants to sample a piece of her. And I for one took a healthy slice for my memory bank. We spent 3 days there and I will never forget her... the streetcar named desire no longer runs, but my desire to return runs deep.