New Orleans (Nov 2018)

Bill is a jazz buff, so we HAD to go to New Orleans, didn't we? And Eve likes jazz, too.

After the Natchez Trace any journey risked being dull in comparison, but there was interest in the agriculture we drove by. We saw our first cotton fields. We decided that the picking machines had been through, but white wisps still adhered to the plants. And a lot of sugar cane was grown in the little bit of Louisiana we saw. This surprised us a bit because we had previously thought of sugar cane as a tropical crop.

Our route took us through Baton Rouge, but we stayed on the interstate highway and didn't encounter really horrible traffic. But there was New Orleans itself to navigate.

As we approached a road junction Bill suddenly indicated and turned all at once. He had seen the magic word “Propane” on a sign. We've mentioned elsewhere that fuel for our cooker and water heater is obtainable from many gas stations in Canada, but very rarely from their US equivalents. We still haven't figured out the American 'system'. This vendor was a fishmonger. The shop sold fish and crawfish and shellfish – and had a large propane tank outside. We should have asked why a fish company would be a propane stockist, but in the excitement of finding a supply we forgot.

Filling an RV's onboard tank was not a regular activity for the fishmongers. In fact they had never had such a request before and the boss was summoned to make sure everything was done correctly. It was, and our tank was filled. We also bought some crawfish bisque.

We picked on a state campground, Bayou Segnette, for our New Orleans base. This was a good choice because, although not far from a major city, it is a lovely park with plenty of wildlife. The tariff was reasonable, and the campground laundry was free. This stimulated Eve to get the washing right up to date.

You can't have a bayou without some marshy bits.

The convolvulus was in flower.

There were plenty of birds, but they refused to pose for us. There was a Red-shouldered Hawk that sat prettily on a tree stump in the next site until Bill picked up the Nikon. Cardinals thronged in the trees all about us but retreated to the darkest corners as soon as they saw a lens.

A large flock of white ibis were feeding a long way off by the lake. The only camera in reach was the one with the weakest telephoto function. Enlarging the centre of the picture produced a better picture than we had any right to.

To get to the city centre we drove to Algiers Point. It wasn't an easy drive, but Malcolm-Edgar, the GPS, gave clear directions early enough to make the necessary lane changes. There's a pedestrian ferry at Algiers that delivers you directly to the French Quarter.

We spent the whole day in the French Quarter.

One of the first buskers we encountered was this tap dancer. His only musical accompaniment was the clapping of his own hands. We were impressed, and we did give him a contribution.

The Jazz Museum was much smaller than the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville. Even allowing for the size difference we both thought the Nashville museum was better. Remarkably, New Orleans' most famous jazz musician Louis Armstrong, got barely a mention in the Jazz Museum. They did have his first trumpet on display, though.

The special exhibition that day was on Professor Longhair. Bill had never previously heard of this singer and pianist. But Bill liked his music and spent a long time listening to the examples of “Fess” playing.

A meal with a live jazz accompaniment was easy to find, but not cheap. As in Nashville, the musicians depend on tips and the establishment charge as if they were actually paying them. However, the music was good and so was the food. We were, after all, in the home of cajun cooking.

We lunched on gumbo, a po'boy sandwich and jazz. The trumpeter/singer was sitting too far away to get him in the picture.

The French Quarter is quite attractive:

... and we liked the humour of this establishment.

The most famous thoroughfare is Bourbon Street. It has a lot of bars. Most of them were playing jazz. We stopped for a leisurely beer at Musical Legends Park.

You are greeted by life-size statues of Fats Domino, Jumbo Hirt and Pete Fountain. Again, where was Louis Armstrong?

The clarinettist was not part of the band. He just went up and asked if he could join them for a number. He was certainly a very capable player.

A feature of New Orleans that we didn't like was the number of beggars.  They were much thicker on the ground here than anywhere else we had been in the world's richest country.  We know it's politically incorrect to say so, but they were all white.

We encountered one band marching through the streets, followed by a large group. They stopped outside the courthouse, so we suspect that it was some kind of political gesture.

For dinner we found a small restaurant without the high decibel music of the Bourbon Street bars. Another cajun specialty is red beans and rice.  A solo guitarist was playing almost, it seemed, for his own pleasure. It was just the right way to finish our day in New Orleans.