The Big Easy

The “Big Easy” was easy in some respects, and not so easy in others.  The easy part was obvious on Bourbon Street.  Apparently Bourbon Street has always had a reputation for being a bit risqué but now I think that has gone downhill and the term “trashy” actually applies. A fairly large section of Bourbon street consists of “Men’s Clubs” with such names as “Barely legal” and “Little Darlings” and there are scantly clad young ladies in dangerously high heels standing in the doorways waving at all the alcohol infused men. At one point I noticed two women walking down the street dressed in gold body suits with the Fleur-de-Lis on them.  As they got closer I realized that there were no suits, only paint. 
Telen said she was worried that these women might drag me into their establishments but I explained to her that these girls would not be taking their clothes off because of how “sexy” they thought I was – in fact in their profession; they probably thought NO men were sexy.   They were only attracted to men with abnormally large… wallets.

So, perhaps they were the easy part. 

Bourbon Street in the morning

I found the profusion of these clubs and the plethora of cheap souvenir shops all selling the same lame T-shirts and coffee mugs brought the French Quarter down a lot.   The French Quarter has some wonderful architecture, great restaurants, fabulous music, fascinating history and a terrific atmosphere.  It is too bad that they let that part of Bourbon Street go downhill.  C’est la vie! 

The Neighbourhood of Marie La Veau the Witch Queen of New Orleans

I get to be the guinea pig…

We went for a guided walking tour of the French Quarter last night.  The guide was very knowledgeable and took us around the area explaining the history of New Orleans and showing us the areas and buildings where the history took place.  We did have a slight agree-to-disagree discussion about the War of 1812 that she thought the Americans had won.  There was the battle of New Orleans where the Americans did defeat the British Forces but that was a few days after the War of 1812 was over and nobody had told either side that.  Neither the guide or the other American lady who was on the tour knew that the Canadian forces had chased the Americans all the way back to Washington.  I guess it is in the American history books like Tiananmen Square is in the Chinese history books.

On our tour we walked past Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt’s house.  I guess they weren’t home because they did not come out and ask in for a drink.  They probably knew that, unlike the rest of New Orleans, Telen and I don’t drink.  Mind you, compared to New Orleans, the Irish don’t drink.  I do have some staff members back home, though, who might be at home here. 

After the tour we took a stroll through the French Quarter.  It was crazy!  The only law with regards to carrying liquor around in New Orleans is that it has to be in plastic containers.  So people were walking around with huge plastic jugs filled with all manner of drinks.  I even saw some people staggering down the street with fish bowls full of fluorescent liquids.  We did see a number of hand-grenades lying on the road but apparently they were just plastic bottles that had been full of a drink called… you guessed it a “hand grenade”.  It gave us the willies the first time we saw them, though – knowing the American penchant for weaponry.   

So I guess that was the not-so-easy part.

There was lots of jazz blasting out of the doors of all the bars.  It got to the point that it all started to meld together into a solid wall of sound.   New Orleans is the birthplace of jazz and it seems as if everyone here plays an instrument of one kind or another.  If they don’t play an instrument they sing or tap-dance.  There is all kind of jazz from Dixieland to New Orleans to blue-eyed soul.  Amazing.  After seeing and hearing all this I know that I have music in me…  it must be in me because it has never, ever come out.  After listening to me sing along with the music in the car Telen will substantiate this emphatically.

Bourbon Street in the Evening

We are now in Lafayette Louisiana.  Cajun country.  This is one of the major areas the Acadians came to after the British kicked them out of Nova Scotia in the 1700’s.  They settled here, learned to survive off the land and evolved into the Cajuns.

Son of gun, gonna have big fun on the Bayou

We went to a restored Cajun Village and got an appreciation as to what was necessary to survive on the Bayou.  The Acadians/Cajuns were tough and resourceful people, indeed.  They also had a “jam” session there with about 15 musicians using fiddles, guitars, harmonicas and accordions to play traditional Cajun music.  We could certainly hear the similarity to the fiddle music we heard in Chetticamp, Nova Scotia. That makes sense, of course.

Something making sense here?  Go figure!