Day 30: When the Lins go marching in.

Today was the day. Today we got to check out the French Quarters in New Orleans. Of all the places we are visiting on this trip, the French Quarters rank amongst some of the highest in terms of must-sees.

We debated whether or not to drive in or take the ferry that many have recommended. Yesterday afternoon we tried driving to the ferry so we could head across to have dinner in the French Quarters. It was not a great experience. The ferry is located in the Algiers ward right across the Mississippi from downtown New Orleans. Algiers has narrow and pothole ridden streets as well as many homes in various stages of disrepair.

When we got to the ferry dock, it was getting late and there were cars lined up all the way down to the end of the street. The car waiting in front of us, a late 90s Pontiac whose owner apparently decided to forgo the dent repairs in order to afford the massive chromed wheels, figured that he’s had enough of waiting. He made a 5-point turn in front of us in order to come nose-to-nose with my larger-than-most diesel van at a one-way street. In the process, he displaced a street sign with his rear bumper without any concern. I was forced to back up to make room for him to pass. Both the driver and the passenger grinned at us as they passed by flashing us with more gold in their mouth than any infomercial can afford to pay them in cash for. We decided then that leftovers were going to be perfectly acceptable for our dinner that night.

Today however, it was a bit different. We got to the ferry dock to find that hardly anyone was on the boat. We parked right at the end of the street for $5 for the entire day. I did not feel completely safe about leaving the van there but we went with it anyways. We had to get across the river somehow.

The first thing we did when we got across to Canal Street is head directly to Cafe du Monde. It is about a mile east right along the river in the heart of the French Quarters right across from Jacksons Square. They are famous for the beignets which everyone in the world told us it is a must have.

We have read many reviews about people’s experiences at Cafe du Monde. Most people agree that they are heavenly delicious but some say it is over-hyped and not worth the wait and others in town are equally good if not better. We decided that if we didn’t have to wait to get our donuts and coffee, we would stay and give them a whirl. Luckily for us, it is only Friday morning. We got a table for the 4 of us right away although I would not call this a slow day by any means.

Check out the mountain of powdered sugar on these things. They are only a couple bucks per order. An order gets you 3 beignets and I proceeded to put ourselves in for 3 orders. 9 beignets? Piece of cake. Ahem… Sorry for the lame joke.

We also got 2 large Cafe au Lait with our donuts. I usually don’t drink coffee but for this special occasion, I had to oblige for the experience.

The powdered sugar doused on these dough balls is pretty overwhelming. They must be covered head to toe with these in the kitchen. Since there is only outdoor seating available, a little breeze means you also got covered with them. Be careful when you bring one near your mouth… do not inhale while you bite!

Isn’t this what coffee drinkers do? You dunk your donuts right? Look at me covered with powdered sugar already with all those beignets left to eat!

9 beignets and 24 ozs of coffee later, we were wired and ready to walk it off. The French Quarters is a pretty amazing place. You just can not imagine that you are still in the United States when you look what surrounds you. Marlene kept saying how she is getting constant flashbacks of us walking in Diocletian’s palace in Split, Croatia. Although the French Quarters look nothing like it, you do somehow feel you have been instantly teleported to a far away land.

Soon we came upon Bourbon street and found ourselves in front of Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar named after the famed pirate of the early 19th century Jean Lafitte. It’s believed to have been used by the pirate up until 1791. This bar is known for being, arguably, the oldest continuously running bar in the United States.

One of the interesting things in New Orleans is that no one under the age of 21 is even allowed to set foot inside a bar for any reason. We know this because while having a little break sitting at the table outside of the bar, Ava had to use the little girl’s room. As Marlene carted her through the 2o0+ year old structure, she was yelled at by the young girl who looks not much older than 21 herself that Ava is not to enter the bar.

I found that really interesting since this was not the first time for me to be in the French Quarters. When I was 18 years old, my mother came to visit a friend in Louisiana and brought me and my brother along. Back then, we were able to trot our way in and out of every bar without a single person asking for our IDs. My mom’s friend has a daughter our age and they told us that it was accepted for 18 year olds to buy alcohol as long as you did not consume it. Fat chance. They use to turned their cheek at the drinking laws back in the day and have apparently since made some dramatic changes.

While we sat at the table outside, Marlene was determined to have a drink here. She asked me to go in and order us a couple of drinks. When I asked her what she wanted, she replied, “Mint Julep. Isn’t that what they drink here?” I thought for a second, ‘Sure, maybe if you are Colonel Sanders!’ Well, I walked in there and asked for 2 mint juleps and have never felt more like a tourist in my life. Worse of all, they don’t make them here. When I asked her what she recommends, “hurricanes” she said. Sure, nothing could be more perfect for the dumb tourist who just asked for the drink of a plantation owner.

At $7.50 a pop, these hurricanes packed in every last penny’s punch worth of rum. We were barely half way through our drinks before we decided to slow down. Not even the tall-grande-venti cafe au lait we had moments ago were enough to keep the buzz from hitting our brain cells. We had to walk it off a bit.

Down the street, I walked by a bar with a couple of television sets running ESPN. I could not help myself but to stop since Lakers highlights were on the screen.  Being on the road really makes it hard for a fan to stay on top of his team’s games. You can only read stats for so long before you need to see some real action. Unfortunately, the Lakers lost to Miami Heat in overtime the night before. A few moments later, I felt the tug of Marlene’s fingers on my ears. Time to keep moving.

We walked by the famed Pat O’Brien’s bar. The place where the original hurricane was invented. This is the place where I consumed many o’ daiquiris one night in the early 1990’s. From what I remember, it was a fun place. I think I had beignets later that evening but I could not say for sure. 🙂

Just a few weeks ago during Mardi Gras, beads were being thrown up towards those balconies as reward to lewd and lascivious acts that would surely get someone arrested in another city.

Even on a Friday, musicians line the streets performing their signature New Orleans jazz that is so infectious, you can’t help but to tap your foot along to the rhythm. This band was really good as compared to a few other down the street. Donations are welcome but of course they were also there to hock their records and swag.

Even the New Orleans Police Department got in on the merch action. The city must be really hurting for some revenue.

By the time we worked our way through the end of town, we decided it was time to eat again. We decided that we might give one of these hole-in-the-wall places a shot since everyone tells us that the food is so good here, you really can’t go wrong. And wrong they were.

We ended up a Annette’s a block up from Bourbon street and a few blocks over from Canal Street. From outside, this place looks like a local diner that the locals might enjoy. We should have gotten a clue when we walked inside because no one else was there. Annette is the older lady with a heavy French accent who sat at one of the tables reading a magazine. She and the other person working there were friendly but also openly conversed about whatever they wanted in the dining room which made us feel a little uncomfortable being the only diners there.

The food on the other hand was abominable. For 9 bucks we ordered a Gyro plate that was nothing but some lettuce and 5 thin slices of gyro meat that looked like had been sitting out for a week. Tasted like it too. When we asked to see if they had shrimp poboy sandwiches, Annette originally said they didn’t have shrimp, only to be interrupted by the other employee who brought her back into the kitchen towards the freezer where they tucked their head in for a few moments before telling us that a shrimp poboy was indeed on the menu. One thing we can tell you is that it was not absurdly overpriced as many other restaurants could be. Today however, we wish we would have overpaid for another meal somewhere else.

We headed back across on the ferry having a large dose of the French Quarters in our system. Since it is only the 2nd of many days here in Louisiana, we wanted to take it slow and explore at a more manageable pace.

Back at the campsite, Mila was rubbing it in that she didn’t have to suffer through those slabs of jerky Annette called gyros.

over and out,
dan