It was a scorcher of a day yesterday and when I ventured out for a walk the pavements were almost sizzling and the humidity factor must have been through the roof. Part of it is because they’re expecting rain over the next few days and I could see gathering clouds in the distance as I wandered. Note to self: I need to buy an umbrella!
I made my way into the French Quarter quite aimlessly as, at the moment, all I’m interested in is looking around and getting my bearings. I have to say I much prefer streets other than Bourbon Street and it’s not solely because Bourbon is tourist Mecca here. There’s some other reason for it but I haven’t quite put my finger on it yet. Bourbon has pretty buildings with the wrought iron balconies and in the evening it obviously bursts with nightlife but it’s not the only street that does so and there are others that both aesthetically and atmosphere wise are more appealing to me.
Anyway, I travelled up and down streets parallel to Bourbon while looking into shop windows and cafes, restaurants and bars trying to spot places I want to visit over the next few weeks. I eventually stopped at a cafe and asked for a drink and a treat and once served I got to chatting to the guy who was serving my table. He’s a local and was telling me about some good spots around here. We introduced ourselves and something which has already happened here took place again. I imagine it’s a southern habit. He proceeded to refer to me as “Miss Elaine” for the rest of the conversation. With a southern drawl – very quaint. It brought home to me that, yes, I’m definitely down South.
A friend of mine was asking whether I’d come here to learn French and I told her that, so far, I haven’t encountered it in any conversation. I’ve seen some signs in shops for “entrance” and “exit” and so forth in French but haven’t heard it spoken. I, originally, had thought when I planned the whole itinerary way back when that I might be able to practice my French while here but it’s not looking likely. But France is evident in the centre from the tricoleur flying from flagpoles to street names pronounced with a French accent and elements of the cuisine. So is the Spanish influence obvious as well as the Haitian. It all combines to create a very unique melting pot with an edge to it and a permanent original soundtrack; there’s music wafting in the air pushing out from establishments or simply from quartets on street corners. It is quite extraordinary. It reminds me of Havana, Cuba, in that way.
I couldn’t stay out for very long as I have some swotting to do. You see, the whole reason for camping in New Orleans is actually based around the fact that I booked myself into a National Geographic photography workshop for this weekend and I was advised at the time that if I wanted to sightsee I should add extra days to my time here as the course is pretty intense and there wouldn’t be enough time during those days for me to investigate the city. The course runs from Thursday to Monday to which I needed to add travelling days and extra ones for me to have time here to get to know the city. When I added it all up I knew I needed a minimum of two weeks here so I just thought that I’d spend the month and, if after a few weeks I’d seen it all in New Orleans then I’d just branch outwards from here to see other southern towns as I, although I’ve travelled quite extensively in the US, don’t know the south at all.
The course requirements include that I know a whole lot more than I do about the workings of my camera – this is a new one, bought just before leaving Gibraltar in July – so I had to, basically, read the manual and work out several functions and features which I didn’t know about and which my previous camera did not possess. There’s also a checklist of photography theory that I need to have in my brain so I spent some time on that too. I’ll have to continue with that today. For those of you demanding pictures they’re coming…hopefully the workshop days will churn out a few good ones. Don’t despair.
And then the reason for having an apartment rather than a hotel came into its own: I made my own dinner! I know, I know. I can hear some of you thinking that eating out is infinitely more interesting. I love restaurants and discovering odd places to eat but, guys, I’ve been eating out since early September so the idea of a homemade meal is actually heavenly. I made my “Chilli Pasta” and ate it while perusing my reading material. Tasted brilliant, what can I say?
In all it’s been a good day: I’m much more familiar with the Vieux Carre, I met a couple of very nice people, I found some places to revisit at some point and I’ve covered some of my homework! And, most of all, I’m getting a feel for this place. How the city works and moves along and how people tick. Most are very polite, genteel even, and are engaging and usually sport a smile. Well, it is known as Southern charm 🙂
Miss Elaine thinks she’s liking the South.
E x
Losing Sight of the Margin 