Day 2: New Orleans

The French Quarter and More

I lived in Louisiana for all three of my middle school years as well the last two years of high school and three years at LSU. Three periods of my life, three towns in Louisiana.

Perhaps it’s more sentimentality than reality – it’s easy to idealize our younger years when they were generally happy – but I miss the state a lot, and even more as I grow older. However, with all the places I’ve lived and loved in Louisiana, it is New Orleans that really became a part of me.

So, as we headed into the city for a day of eating and visiting my favorite places, I didn’t let the threatening gray cotton hanging over the city dampen my excitement. Isabella and the kids, who had been here with me several years ago, were equally excited. We brought umbrellas. That’s how you do it.

Breakfast was at the world-famous Cafe Du Monde. In the old days (the mid 1980s), my family used to come here every Sunday, and we had our own waiter, Joe. One of the many small joys of being a local (and a regular) was when Joe spotted us in line, pulled us out of it, and brought us right to a table, as if we were royalty.

Today was a Thursday, so we were lucky and found a table right away – lucky because I’m no longer a local, and because Joe is probably a centenarian retired in the Azores.

In a lot of cities, there are places where the tourists go and places where the locals go, and seldom do they overlap. But in New Orleans, they are often the same places. Many great restaurants and shops have been there for generations, and the locals never stopped patronizing those places simply because the tourists found out about them.

So it is with our lunch spot as well: Central Grocery (also on Decatur), home of the original Muffuletta, a sandwich that has to be experienced to understand its importance in this universe.

After getting soaked by the rain (umbrellas are ultimately useless, aren’t they?), and ignoring the incessant beeping on our cell phones which advised us that tornadoes, earthquakes, fire, and brimstone were coming our way, we stopped at The Historic New Orleans Collection on Royal. There, we found a beautiful presentation of the history, good and bad, of New Orleans and the broader Gulf Coast region. The collection contains original hand-colored maps by early explorers/cartographers of the Mississippi river and Gulf of Mexico. There are old photographs, clothing, posters, and items from the city’s past like a streetcar token, Katrina-era items of interest, and an entire building of artwork by local artists of significance.

I left the others behind at the museum so I could go put more money in the meter. I was able to walk through my city alone for a bit. It was like spending time with an old girlfriend – one who didn’t really notice that I had been gone, but who treated me with love as soon as I showed up again. She was ageless, of course, while I walked a bit slower than I used to. It’s okay. I appreciated so much more the things I had once taken for granted in the faster pace of youth.

With the car safe for another two hours, I met up with the others at St. Louis Cathedral. We looked around and took photos, waiting for the rain to let up, then went around Jackson Square back to Decatur to hear a band at The Gazebo. It just so happened that one of my old mentors, a man I still call my Pops, Les Getrex, was playing with his band, and I got to sit in for a few numbers. (Video here.)

We finished the afternoon by going to my old neighborhood in Belle Chasse on the West Bank, visiting one friend’s grave and another friend’s mom, and then heading back to Destrehan for some Popeyes chicken and biscuits.

I was….home.

Enjoy the photos!