JEANS REPORT ON OUR LAST DAY IN NOLA AND THEIR TRIP BACK TO THE U.K.
So, it was up at 05.45 and we left early for the airport. We said our goodbye’s to John & Debbie who had been such good friends but we agreed to all meet up again next year in Istanbul. They were going back to a new life, having sold their house in Boston and bought a motor home and they intended travelling South and checking potential new homes on the way. We too, were hopefully going to move house again before too long but first, we had to face the horrendous journey back to Edinburgh. The airport was busy and it was obvious that quite a few people had decided to leave town but not much in the airport was open as locals hadn’t turned up for work that morning. We later found out that the airport had closed later that afternoon.
John & Debs left at 10.45 and then we left at 12.05 and had an uneventful journey back to Atlanta and from there on to Charles de Gaulle airport where we arrived at 08.30 the next day, Thursday September 26th. On the journey between Atlanta and CDG, I was sat next to an Indian guy and we started chatting as you do. Now whether this guy liked the sound of my accent, wanted to practice his English or was genuinely interested, I don’t know but it was like sitting an exam for almost the whole time we were in the air!! Once he found I was from Scotland, he started asking me all these questions……. Not easy stuff but “What is the main source of wealth of the Scottish population?” “What percentage would you say are homeowners?” “Who were the first people to colonise Northern Britain?” I kid you not!! I felt so ignorant but bluffed my way through most of it figuring that he wouldn’t know the difference anyway!! (Memo to Debbie—that’s a good tip you gave me!!)
One final highlight in the holiday—if that’s the right word for it. We had 7½ hours to wait in Charles de Gaulle airport for the only flight to Edinburgh of the day. We were tired and bored and desperate to get home. At one point, we noticed all these policemen running about quite near to us with these massive sub-machine guns and then they cordoned an area off. Gordon went on a wander and came back to say that he’d heard that a suitcase had been abandoned and they suspected it to be a bomb as no one had responded to an announcement on the PA system. Next minute….BOOOM!!! They’d blown the thing up!! Then they swept up all the clothing and bits of suitcase, removed the cordon and went away.
We finally landed in Edinburgh at 5.30 p.m. local time or 11.30 a.m. New Orleans time so we’d been travelling for 30 hours by then…...and we still had an hours drive home!!
Overall then, we felt that we’d enjoyed the experience as both of us had wanted to visit New Orleans for ages. It was good to see John & Debbie again and we had so many laughs BUT it was a lot of money and a very long journey for only 5 days there...
Wednesday, September 25, 2002
Tuesday, September 24, 2002
Hurricane Isadora!!
MORE TALES OF NOLA FROM JEAN
The next day was September 24th and we woke up to the worrying news that Hurricane Isadora had begun to move our way. It was torrential rain and looked as if it was set to stay that way but the intrepid explorers had decided to do a Voodoo Walk and nothing was going to stop us. Besides, as I pointed out, we were from Scotland where we had icy cold rain and not the namby-pamby warm stuff they get in New Orleans!! So nothing daunted, we bought some Bourbon Street ponchos, a sort of designer bin-liner, and headed off round another cemetery. I have to say that in better weather, this might have been OK but the rain just got heavier and heavier the more the day went on.
We decided after the tour to lunch in a place we’d read about called The Two Sisters. According to the guide book, this place was famed for its authentic Southern food and was patronised by the cops. We set out to find it but had some bother so eventually, we pulled over and asked directions from this black lady who was walking down the street with the cutest little girl you ever saw. When John asked if she knew of a restaurant called the Two Sisters, she said “Just that one across the street there” and we were almost on the doorstep. To cover his embarrassment, John asked her if the place was any good for lunch to which she replied, again in that Southern drawl, “I don’t know. I’m a junk food eater myself”. Priceless! Anyway, we had smothered chicken, potato salad, macaroni cheese, peas, rice and cornbread and none of us could finish it. As well as the cops, complete with their big guns, there were three fellow customers sporting the logo “Three Damn Fools Towing Company” on their shirts…….different!
When we left the restaurant, it was still torrential rain so we decided to go to the D-Day Museum which I thought would be really boring but which turned out to be exactly the opposite and we spent about 3 hours there.
We decided after the tour to lunch in a place we’d read about called The Two Sisters. According to the guide book, this place was famed for its authentic Southern food and was patronised by the cops. We set out to find it but had some bother so eventually, we pulled over and asked directions from this black lady who was walking down the street with the cutest little girl you ever saw. When John asked if she knew of a restaurant called the Two Sisters, she said “Just that one across the street there” and we were almost on the doorstep. To cover his embarrassment, John asked her if the place was any good for lunch to which she replied, again in that Southern drawl, “I don’t know. I’m a junk food eater myself”. Priceless! Anyway, we had smothered chicken, potato salad, macaroni cheese, peas, rice and cornbread and none of us could finish it. As well as the cops, complete with their big guns, there were three fellow customers sporting the logo “Three Damn Fools Towing Company” on their shirts…….different!
When we left the restaurant, it was still torrential rain so we decided to go to the D-Day Museum which I thought would be really boring but which turned out to be exactly the opposite and we spent about 3 hours there.
We then headed for another dive—this one was supposed to be the haunt of college kids and it specialised in cocktails with risqué names. (Note- Nick's Train Bar) It was there we decided that enough was enough and we really should be thinking of leaving New Orleans. We’d been told that the schools were closed the next day and we’d seen lots of evidence of sandbags being prepared and as New Orleans is built below sea-level, it was not a good place to be when a hurricane hit. Poor John & Debbie spent almost an hour calling the airlines on their cell phone and Air France were particularly unhelpful asking things like “When is the hurricane due to hit?”. It turned out that we were actually speaking to a call centre in Canada so of course, the woman there wasn’t too worried about the prospect of an impending hurricane down in New Orleans and obviously thought we were over-reacting. Eventually though, it was all sorted out even though it had cost us an additional $73 each—about £100. We had a final good time in the bar that night which Debbie and I both regretted next day when we had to leave early. (Note- The bartender evidently thought that it would be fun to get the girls a little tipsy--and started pouring gin and tonics with more and more gin and less and less tonic. The boys thought we should get some food to counteract the alcohol, so we drove the streets of NOLA in the torrential downpour searching for an open restaurant. We were told by John and Gordon that we were quite drunk when a police car stopped us- probably wondering what these crazies were doing driving around in hurricane weather- When I leaned across the car and slurring my words started to ask "Where is Liuzza's". John quickly hushed me up - afraid that we'd all end up at the police station for drunk driving!)
Monday, September 23, 2002
The Garden District and Dumps and Dives
JEAN'S CONTINUING STORY OF OUR NOLA ADVENTURES
September 23rd, and we start the day with fruit & Danish pastries and then we’ve got a walking tour of the Garden District arranged, including the No 2 Cemetery. Our guide this time was Anna-Ross who again was very pleasant and knew her stuff. I’m not very knowledgeable about architecture (a fact I hope to remedy as I found it interesting and would like to know more!) but I heard them talking about Greek Revival and Italianate houses. What I saw were beautiful houses with lots of balconies and ornate iron work—these people had serious money.
In those days, they would have a complete change of linen with every course of the meal so if you imagine a modest 5-course dinner, the washing and ironing would have been horrendous (and no automation like we have these days!!). Some of the houses had ironing rooms which employed a small army of servants just to wash and iron all the table and bed linens. Aaahhh!!! Doesn’t bear thinking about!! According to Anna-Ross, the owners of these places preferred Irish servant girls to slaves as they lived out so didn’t cost so much to keep and also, if they were sick, they would just send a sister or other female relation to take their place.
As for the cemetery, this was interesting as well. To begin with, people were buried below ground in the same way as anywhere else but due to New Orleans being wholly below sea level, they would hit water almost as soon as they began to dig. In addition, if they had a bad storm, it would not be unusual for the coffins simply to float away. Obviously, they had to find a solution so it was decided to build a mausoleum for each family so that they would be buried above ground. Space was tight though and it was just not practical for every corpse to have it’s own burial space so it was decided that if a member of a family died, he would be interred in the family mausoleum for a minimum of a year and a day. After this time, if the space was required by another family member, the original coffin was opened and by then, because of the heat and humidity in New Orleans, there would only be a pile of bones left. These were bagged up then re-buried in a corner of the mausoleum, leaving space for the new casket. If the space was required before a year and a day was passed, you could rent a sort of drawer for the casket until the time was up and the reason the time span of a year and a day was decided upon was that they needed a minimum of one year but felt it would be distressing for the family to open the casket on the anniversary of the original burial. Some of the caskets were equipped with chimneys and/or bells because of people worrying about being buried alive. Yep—there’s not much I don’t know about New Orleans cemeteries!!
As for the cemetery, this was interesting as well. To begin with, people were buried below ground in the same way as anywhere else but due to New Orleans being wholly below sea level, they would hit water almost as soon as they began to dig. In addition, if they had a bad storm, it would not be unusual for the coffins simply to float away. Obviously, they had to find a solution so it was decided to build a mausoleum for each family so that they would be buried above ground. Space was tight though and it was just not practical for every corpse to have it’s own burial space so it was decided that if a member of a family died, he would be interred in the family mausoleum for a minimum of a year and a day. After this time, if the space was required by another family member, the original coffin was opened and by then, because of the heat and humidity in New Orleans, there would only be a pile of bones left. These were bagged up then re-buried in a corner of the mausoleum, leaving space for the new casket. If the space was required before a year and a day was passed, you could rent a sort of drawer for the casket until the time was up and the reason the time span of a year and a day was decided upon was that they needed a minimum of one year but felt it would be distressing for the family to open the casket on the anniversary of the original burial. Some of the caskets were equipped with chimneys and/or bells because of people worrying about being buried alive. Yep—there’s not much I don’t know about New Orleans cemeteries!!
After our walk, lunch was to be another long-awaited experience…….a Po-Boy, which turned out to be a long roll, sort of a French stick, so once again, Debs had come up with the perfect venue — well, it was more like Joe’s Greasy Café but this one was called Domilises. Let’s just say that this place was again in the low-income part of town and I had my misgivings at first but the clientele seemed to be friendly enough and as it was quite crowded, the food was obviously good.
Debs and I watched our Po-Boys being made and ours were prawns with lettuce and various other bits of salad (I achieved another ambition and said those immortal words “Hold the mayo!” just like in the films. I actually like mayo but just wanted to hear myself say it out loud in an American accent!!).
The guys though had the piece-de-resistance…...bread dipped in gravy, then lots of slices of roast beef heaped on top followed by mustard, ketchup, dill pickles and then more gravy poured over the top. Not for the faint-hearted or those dressed in white!! To accompany this gastronomic delight, we had Dixie Beers, the local brew and Root Beer for us girls—which is like sarsaparilla. Apart from the fact that a caterpillar somehow landed on my head while I was eating and a spider ran over Gordon’s hand, we enjoyed the whole experience. Incidentally, the name Po-Boys came about because that’s what the lower paid used to have as their lunch—obviously.
After Domilse’s, I thought that we were maybe going to go a bit up-market for our next bar but no, this time Debs had found a place in the guide book called the Saturn Bar. This was in another part of the low-income neighbourhood and now I was really worried because we were warned by the book that we should keep a low profile and not stare. Oh dear.
Maybe the warning that there was a mummy hanging from the ceiling should have prepared us for this place—it certainly didn’t look much from the outside, in fact I thought it looked closed (and breathed a sigh of relief!) However, John opened the door and said to the guy inside “Are you open?” to which he replied, in his Southern drawl, “I am now”……….. Imagine your hobby is collecting various bits and pieces from jumble sales, car boot sales and the like and then not doing any housework for 40 years and you will have an idea of what The Saturn Bar was like.
There was junk everywhere. A yappy dog, a neurotic cat who climbed on my lap and sucked at my dress leaving a big wet patch, two birds in a cage (which the cat obviously thought was his packed lunch as it made various attempts to get at them!), a snooker table laden with various tools, bits of furniture, old pictures, glasses and everywhere covered in 40 years of dust and cobwebs. And of course, the mummy. It hung there in a state of undress and when John asked the bloke where he’d got it, he replied “Made it” as if it were the most natural thing in the world!!
This place was famous though. The owner had pictures of himself with John Goodman, Nicholas Cage, Tommy Lee Jones etc etc—all of which had visited his bar. Here’s a photo of us there which unfortunately doesn’t show much of the surroundings but hopefully, you get the drift.
We still hadn’t finished our tour of ‘The Dives of New Orleans’ as Debbie had found us one more place to visit that afternoon but I really had my doubts about this one. It was called Jack Dempsey’s and according to the guide book, was mostly populated by ex-jailbirds and ex-boxers. Now, it’s not as if we could just go in unobtrusively—I mean, we stood out as tourists like sore thumbs—so I was really pleased to find it closed that afternoon. We’ll save that one for another day!!
Nothing else for it then but to head back into town (from this ‘low-income’ place we’d frequented for most of the day). This time, we headed for Bourbon Street and “Lafitte's”. Lafitte's was the first gay bar in New Orleans and was part of the tourist trail as it was so old.
From the outside, it looked as if it was falling down but inside, it was fine and there was a good atmosphere. It is no longer a gay bar—that moved down the street to new premises. We were served our beers in there by a gay policeman though—we knew he was a policeman because when I asked him to take our photograph, he said that his other job was as a police photographer and to prove it, he insisted on showing us his official badge. He told us that the bar was now owned by the sheriff who had asked this guy to do some bar work for him …… all sounds a bit far-fetched but that’s the story he told.
Debbie and I had a drink and then left Gordon and John while we did some shopping. There wasn’t much to see though, just tourist tat, so after about an hour or so, we met up with the guys again in another bar where the drinks were 3 for the price of 1. We ate in a burger bar called Pappy’s and then headed for this R&B Bar we’d noticed which was playing fabulous music. It turned out to be full of “in-your-face” women—you know, the type wearing things like tight trousers with a pink & white bikini top, but there was a good atmosphere and we had a good laugh in there. At one stage during the evening, we were sitting almost half in and half out of this bar people watching and some crazy guy wandered up, leaned towards me and said “I lurve you”. I could hardly understand a word he said he was so spaced out but John seemed to understand him OK as the two had a good few minutes conversation. Then you realised that none of their sentences matched and in effect, they were both carrying on simultaneous conversations with themselves. After the nutter had moved off, John admitted he couldn’t understand a word either but whatever, it got rid of him!!
Sunday, September 22, 2002
Swamps and Plantations
CONTINUING STORY OF OUR LOUISIANA ADVENTURES BY OUR FRIEND, JEAN
Anyway, the tour was excellent and we saw lots of interesting birds and alligators and a massive lake filled with water lilies which were just dying off but you could imagine how stunning it would have been when they were all in full flower. There was also some stuff called Spanish Moss which draped the trees and looked like cobwebs—exactly how you imagine the swamps to look. The guide told us that they‘d had lots more rain than usual this year and where he would normally expect the swamp to be only 6” deep at this time of year, it was actually now over 3 feet. There are rules governing how many alligators can be caught in a season and how much duck shooting etc can go on so it was all very interesting.
When we left there, we decided to go to lunch at a place Debs had read about in her guide book. This sounded like another dive but ‘colourful’ - in other words, not your typical tourist haunt but where we would get fabulous authentic Southern food. We found the town where this place was but couldn’t find the restaurant (café?) so we stopped to ask a couple who were passing by. What a laugh….. We couldn’t have chosen any better! This couple had obviously just come out of church as they were in their Sunday best and we were quite scruffy having just got off the swamp, but we asked them if they knew where this place was and the woman first of all pretended she didn’t know and then said oh yes, she believed she had read about this place but really, it wasn’t wear decent folks went…...no, it was in the ‘low income neighbourhood’ - in other words, where the black people live (who do the best food!!). She obviously couldn’t understand at all that we would actually chose to go some place like that and directed us instead to Victor’s, a restaurant “where decent people have their roast pork after church”. Honestly, you wouldn’t believe that people like this woman still exist but we thought we’d check out Victor’s anyway as it was just across the street.
When we got in, we were in a sort of passage and there was a long queue in front of us which I thought was for the maitre d’ or some such to find you a table. Not exactly! The queue was because you had to take a tray and serve yourself like in a work’s canteen. The food was OK and that’s all but it was packed with folks in their Sunday clothes and even the priest was there having his lunch. Afterwards, we said it was a shame we’d listened to this woman but then I suppose Victor’s was a revelation in itself—sort of like time had stood still.
Our next stop was the Lara Plantation, an authentic plantation house which was now in the process of being restored.
One of the things I had said I wanted to do in Louisiana was one of those swamp tours where you sit in one of those boats with a big engine at the back and whizz over the water so Debs being such a great organiser had already made the reservations. The boats take 6 plus the guide so we were joined by another couple and provided with life jackets and ear plugs. While we were waiting for this other couple though, we had a laugh at a car sticker on one of the 4 wheel drives parked there belonging to a local—remember these folks are weird and live for “huntin’, shootin’ and fishin’”. This particular sticker said “IF IT FLIES, IT DIES”. Brilliant! We had brought plenty of mosquito repellent, this being the swamps, but the guy just laughed and said we wouldn’t need it…..”How fast do you think a skeeter can fly?”
Anyway, the tour was excellent and we saw lots of interesting birds and alligators and a massive lake filled with water lilies which were just dying off but you could imagine how stunning it would have been when they were all in full flower. There was also some stuff called Spanish Moss which draped the trees and looked like cobwebs—exactly how you imagine the swamps to look. The guide told us that they‘d had lots more rain than usual this year and where he would normally expect the swamp to be only 6” deep at this time of year, it was actually now over 3 feet. There are rules governing how many alligators can be caught in a season and how much duck shooting etc can go on so it was all very interesting.
When we left there, we decided to go to lunch at a place Debs had read about in her guide book. This sounded like another dive but ‘colourful’ - in other words, not your typical tourist haunt but where we would get fabulous authentic Southern food. We found the town where this place was but couldn’t find the restaurant (café?) so we stopped to ask a couple who were passing by. What a laugh….. We couldn’t have chosen any better! This couple had obviously just come out of church as they were in their Sunday best and we were quite scruffy having just got off the swamp, but we asked them if they knew where this place was and the woman first of all pretended she didn’t know and then said oh yes, she believed she had read about this place but really, it wasn’t wear decent folks went…...no, it was in the ‘low income neighbourhood’ - in other words, where the black people live (who do the best food!!). She obviously couldn’t understand at all that we would actually chose to go some place like that and directed us instead to Victor’s, a restaurant “where decent people have their roast pork after church”. Honestly, you wouldn’t believe that people like this woman still exist but we thought we’d check out Victor’s anyway as it was just across the street.
When we got in, we were in a sort of passage and there was a long queue in front of us which I thought was for the maitre d’ or some such to find you a table. Not exactly! The queue was because you had to take a tray and serve yourself like in a work’s canteen. The food was OK and that’s all but it was packed with folks in their Sunday clothes and even the priest was there having his lunch. Afterwards, we said it was a shame we’d listened to this woman but then I suppose Victor’s was a revelation in itself—sort of like time had stood still.
Our next stop was the Lara Plantation, an authentic plantation house which was now in the process of being restored.
Our guide was Elmore and he obviously knew his stuff. He told us that when the owner of the plantation died, rather than it passing to the eldest child automatically, it was given to the smartest…….. This gave us some discussion of how we would have fared if our own parents had adopted this thinking!! Apparently, the owner was a very kind man and treated his slaves well but his wife was a harridan and beat them at every opportunity. In the back garden were 69 slave huts which had each housed two families so these owners were obviously seriously wealthy. After the Civil War when the slaves were freed, some of them chose to stay on and work so the owners wife would calculate their wages at the end of the year (in Lara’s case, it was $12) and then charge them a matching sum for their bed and board, leaving the slaves with nothing. The average life span of the field slaves was only 6½ years which illustrates how hard their lives were. If they had a child, it automatically became the property of the owner who if he chose, would simply sell it to somebody else. Interesting stuff.
We eventually found ourselves back in New Orleans and back to La Belle Reve so at last, we could unpack our suitcases. We had a walk in wardrobe and an iron and ironing board so could make ourselves decent again and now that we were all spruced up, where did we go??? Another dive…...Ms Mae’s Bar where beers cost only $1 each!! There was some really weird customers in there but like all these places so far, a good atmosphere and we had a right laugh.
We eventually found ourselves back in New Orleans and back to La Belle Reve so at last, we could unpack our suitcases. We had a walk in wardrobe and an iron and ironing board so could make ourselves decent again and now that we were all spruced up, where did we go??? Another dive…...Ms Mae’s Bar where beers cost only $1 each!! There was some really weird customers in there but like all these places so far, a good atmosphere and we had a right laugh.
That night we ate in an Indian Restaurant quite near where we were staying and the food was lovely.
Saturday, September 21, 2002
Fred's Lounge in Mamou
Next morning we were served eggs, bacon, grits and corn bread by yet another ‘manager’ of the Chretian (another odd-ish character dressed in dungarees) and then finally, we met the one who seemed to be the main manager and who was very nice …..and normal!! So after breakfast, we said goodbye to The Kommandant, The Hors D’Ouvre Fairy, The Dikey One and The Nice One and headed off to the country.
The main purpose of our trip to Cajun Country was to visit a place called Fred’s Lounge which John had visited years and years ago and never forgotten. I shouldn’t think there’s anywhere else like this place on earth!! For a start, it’s in this real hick town called Mamou, which seemed to consist of nothing but Fred’s, Miss Diane’s (another bar), a barber shop and the Cazan Hotel (and bar!). Fred’s is only open on a Saturday morning from 8.30 when there’s live music and a local radio show is broadcast from there , complete with adverts and announcements. We got there at about 9 a.m. and when I saw the state of the place from the outside, I entered with some trepidation. Inside though, it was like any other club at 11 p.m.—the music was full blast; couples were up doing this particular kind of Cajun dancing; the place was packed and the Bud was flowing.
So what can you do? We ordered 2 Buds and 2 Bud lights and got into the spirit of the place. More and more people kept coming in and it was only when the front door opened and the sunlight briefly blasted in that you remembered that it was still only something like half past 10 in the morning!!
Tante Sue
The atmosphere in there was brilliant and there was all kinds of people—it was managed by ‘Fred’s’ widow, an 80-year old with the outlook and energy of a 30-year old, called Tante Sue (New Orleans was French before it was sold to the Americans and there is still a wide French influence). She sang a song for us and reminded us from time to time of the rules of the house— no kissing, no smooching, no bad language….”The only four-letter word I want to hear is LURVE”.
We had a visit from the Hell’s Angels who turned out to be really nice though one of the regulars warned John when he saw Debbie talking to one of the bikers to tell her to be careful as “she doesn’t want to be punched out by no biker bitch”. Another time, John was invited to camp in the yard of his new found friend Bill and Debbie had a long conversation with a deaf & dumb person. At one point, Debbie bought this drink called HOT DAMN which turned out to be Cinnamon Schnapps and yes, you guessed it—you took a drink which nearly set fire to your throat and then you drew up one knee, smacked it with your hand and said “Hot Damn!!” Apparently the thing to do was to take a swig and then pass it round—the drink cost $5 and you had one gulp but you certainly didn’t want it back after it had done the rounds of the bar!!
Two of the women took a fancy to Gordon—one of them got him later at Miss Diane’s but the other one arranged for me to dance with a guy in Fred’s so then of course, she danced with Gordon.
I picked the dance up straight away as I thought it was very like an old fashioned waltz (though of course, I would never have admitted to that!). The preferred mode of dress for the dancing seemed to be a short, flared skirt with boots and socks and a lot of the women had really nice figures—must be with working in the fields!! I said to Gordon that I had never seen so many old heads on young bodies. We won the competition for the people who had travelled the most distance to be there (some Cajun cooking aids) and stayed drinking, talking and laughing until about 1-ish.
Hmmmm—maybe a few too many Bud Lights????
We left Fred’s and went next door to Miss Diane’s which was a very similar set-up but not so crowded and then someone from Fred’s came in and told us that everyone was heading to the Cazan Hotel so we tried that out as well. Eventually though, we thought we’d best get on as we had to eat and then find the motel where we were staying that night.
Because of this big music festival—the Arcadian Festival—being held in Lafayette, everywhere was booked as people were visiting from miles around. Debbie had seen a good place to eat in the guide book called The Pig Stand so that’s where we went and then we booked into the Days Motel (only $45 a night but clean and comfortable with 2 double beds in the room), had a couple of hours sleep and then headed out to the festival ourselves.
Unfortunately, by the time we got there, a lot of the craft stalls were packing up and then we had a big thunderstorm but never mind, we heard a bit of the music and we did at least get a flavour of the place. One thing which caught our eye as we were driving around and which we thought a bit odd—the garages were offering a Frozen Daiquiri with your petrol. You wouldn’t normally expect to be offered hard liquor as you filled up but then, this place was a bit different…. Fuel was between $1.20 and $1.30 for a U.S. gallon which is only about 85p and which probably explains why the Americans are so fond of big, gas-guzzling motors!! Anyway, we had another Cajun-type meal in a place with more dancing and zydeko music but, even though the place had come highly recommended, the service was terrible so we didn’t leave a tip and didn’t hang around. We had quite an early night at the Days Motel as we were shattered after our hectic day.
The main purpose of our trip to Cajun Country was to visit a place called Fred’s Lounge which John had visited years and years ago and never forgotten. I shouldn’t think there’s anywhere else like this place on earth!! For a start, it’s in this real hick town called Mamou, which seemed to consist of nothing but Fred’s, Miss Diane’s (another bar), a barber shop and the Cazan Hotel (and bar!). Fred’s is only open on a Saturday morning from 8.30 when there’s live music and a local radio show is broadcast from there , complete with adverts and announcements. We got there at about 9 a.m. and when I saw the state of the place from the outside, I entered with some trepidation. Inside though, it was like any other club at 11 p.m.—the music was full blast; couples were up doing this particular kind of Cajun dancing; the place was packed and the Bud was flowing.
So what can you do? We ordered 2 Buds and 2 Bud lights and got into the spirit of the place. More and more people kept coming in and it was only when the front door opened and the sunlight briefly blasted in that you remembered that it was still only something like half past 10 in the morning!!
Tante Sue
The atmosphere in there was brilliant and there was all kinds of people—it was managed by ‘Fred’s’ widow, an 80-year old with the outlook and energy of a 30-year old, called Tante Sue (New Orleans was French before it was sold to the Americans and there is still a wide French influence). She sang a song for us and reminded us from time to time of the rules of the house— no kissing, no smooching, no bad language….”The only four-letter word I want to hear is LURVE”.
We had a visit from the Hell’s Angels who turned out to be really nice though one of the regulars warned John when he saw Debbie talking to one of the bikers to tell her to be careful as “she doesn’t want to be punched out by no biker bitch”. Another time, John was invited to camp in the yard of his new found friend Bill and Debbie had a long conversation with a deaf & dumb person. At one point, Debbie bought this drink called HOT DAMN which turned out to be Cinnamon Schnapps and yes, you guessed it—you took a drink which nearly set fire to your throat and then you drew up one knee, smacked it with your hand and said “Hot Damn!!” Apparently the thing to do was to take a swig and then pass it round—the drink cost $5 and you had one gulp but you certainly didn’t want it back after it had done the rounds of the bar!!
Two of the women took a fancy to Gordon—one of them got him later at Miss Diane’s but the other one arranged for me to dance with a guy in Fred’s so then of course, she danced with Gordon.
I picked the dance up straight away as I thought it was very like an old fashioned waltz (though of course, I would never have admitted to that!). The preferred mode of dress for the dancing seemed to be a short, flared skirt with boots and socks and a lot of the women had really nice figures—must be with working in the fields!! I said to Gordon that I had never seen so many old heads on young bodies. We won the competition for the people who had travelled the most distance to be there (some Cajun cooking aids) and stayed drinking, talking and laughing until about 1-ish.
Hmmmm—maybe a few too many Bud Lights????
We left Fred’s and went next door to Miss Diane’s which was a very similar set-up but not so crowded and then someone from Fred’s came in and told us that everyone was heading to the Cazan Hotel so we tried that out as well. Eventually though, we thought we’d best get on as we had to eat and then find the motel where we were staying that night.
Because of this big music festival—the Arcadian Festival—being held in Lafayette, everywhere was booked as people were visiting from miles around. Debbie had seen a good place to eat in the guide book called The Pig Stand so that’s where we went and then we booked into the Days Motel (only $45 a night but clean and comfortable with 2 double beds in the room), had a couple of hours sleep and then headed out to the festival ourselves.
Unfortunately, by the time we got there, a lot of the craft stalls were packing up and then we had a big thunderstorm but never mind, we heard a bit of the music and we did at least get a flavour of the place. One thing which caught our eye as we were driving around and which we thought a bit odd—the garages were offering a Frozen Daiquiri with your petrol. You wouldn’t normally expect to be offered hard liquor as you filled up but then, this place was a bit different…. Fuel was between $1.20 and $1.30 for a U.S. gallon which is only about 85p and which probably explains why the Americans are so fond of big, gas-guzzling motors!! Anyway, we had another Cajun-type meal in a place with more dancing and zydeko music but, even though the place had come highly recommended, the service was terrible so we didn’t leave a tip and didn’t hang around. We had quite an early night at the Days Motel as we were shattered after our hectic day.
Friday, September 20, 2002
From NOLA to Cajun Country
MORE TALES OF LOUISIANA AS RECORDED BY OUR FRIEND, JEAN
We were up early and had a breakfast of fruit and croissants and then Debs had found us a tour of the French Quarter. First though, we went to a café we had seen advertised on every guide to New Orleans – a café selling nothing but Beignets and packed to the gunnels. (Note: Cafe Du Monde)
Inside Belle Reve B&B NOLA
We were up early and had a breakfast of fruit and croissants and then Debs had found us a tour of the French Quarter. First though, we went to a café we had seen advertised on every guide to New Orleans – a café selling nothing but Beignets and packed to the gunnels. (Note: Cafe Du Monde)
A beignet turned out to be a sort of croissant dipped in batter and then deep fried, then dusted with icing sugar and then another inch or so of icing sugar poured over the top!!!! It made your teeth curl it was so sweet. Apparently the normal helping is 3 each but we had 6 between the four of us and nobody felt cheated – even when John dropped one on the ground!! The table looked as if we were sitting round an open dustbin at the end with icing sugar everywhere. An experience though.
The tour was a lovely way to see the kind of city we were in – lots of historical houses to look at, lovely weather and a knowledgeable guide even if he did all his presentation in the present tense—Now, we’re building these houses and then the English are coming so we’re becoming worried….. Most offputting! At intervals of about 1 metre on the pavements, there were little round metal discs – about 4 or 5” in diameter – which turned out to be termite baits filled with poison. These termites are a real problem as they are literally eating the city. They eat wood, metal – anything, and cause thousands of dollars worth of damage to the lovely historical houses. The guide told us about somebody who had been away from home for a few months and on their return, they went to play the piano but as soon as their hands touched the keys, the whole piano just collapsed as the termites had eaten it away by working up inside the legs. We saw places costing well over a million dollars which the termites are slowly eating away but nothing can stop them – it’s just something the inhabitants of “Nawlins” have to live with.
Anyway, the tour took in most of the French Quarter which is the place you always see on tourist guides and which includes the famous Bourbon Street. Even during daylight hours, this place was full of music but I was surprised that not much of it was jazz. I had mistakenly thought that this would be the main music we would hear but there seemed to be more R&B than anything else – Otis Reading type stuff of 60’s and 70’s vintage – maybe this was for the tourists and the serious jazz was somewhere else.
After lunch during which Gordon had Gumbo and I had Gator Stew – yes, I ate an alligator!! – we headed out of New Orleans towards Lafayette where we had arranged to stay on a plantation called Chretian Point.
The tour was a lovely way to see the kind of city we were in – lots of historical houses to look at, lovely weather and a knowledgeable guide even if he did all his presentation in the present tense—Now, we’re building these houses and then the English are coming so we’re becoming worried….. Most offputting! At intervals of about 1 metre on the pavements, there were little round metal discs – about 4 or 5” in diameter – which turned out to be termite baits filled with poison. These termites are a real problem as they are literally eating the city. They eat wood, metal – anything, and cause thousands of dollars worth of damage to the lovely historical houses. The guide told us about somebody who had been away from home for a few months and on their return, they went to play the piano but as soon as their hands touched the keys, the whole piano just collapsed as the termites had eaten it away by working up inside the legs. We saw places costing well over a million dollars which the termites are slowly eating away but nothing can stop them – it’s just something the inhabitants of “Nawlins” have to live with.
Anyway, the tour took in most of the French Quarter which is the place you always see on tourist guides and which includes the famous Bourbon Street. Even during daylight hours, this place was full of music but I was surprised that not much of it was jazz. I had mistakenly thought that this would be the main music we would hear but there seemed to be more R&B than anything else – Otis Reading type stuff of 60’s and 70’s vintage – maybe this was for the tourists and the serious jazz was somewhere else.
After lunch during which Gordon had Gumbo and I had Gator Stew – yes, I ate an alligator!! – we headed out of New Orleans towards Lafayette where we had arranged to stay on a plantation called Chretian Point.
When Debbie had booked it, she had originally asked if we could stay for 2 nights but it turned out that there was some big music festival on in Lafayette so they only had rooms for the Friday. This place was an authentic plantation house – more hardwood floors and a huge balcony which led off the bedrooms. We were met by a very officious woman – later christened “The Kommandant” who explained that they were expecting a tour party for dinner. Apparently the house, if you could believe this woman, was haunted by all and sundry – a woman, 2 children, a gardener etc etc and because of this, it was included in the itinerary of the local ‘Ghost tour’. If we would like to hide our suitcases etc in the wardrobes because the tour party would be shown round the house and “would be disappointed if they did not have access to all the rooms”………..er, I think not!! We had paid $155 for our rooms and were not about to have a coachload of pensioners (as they turned out to be) wandering around in them. The Kommandant was not best pleased but reluctantly agreed and said if we would like to go out on to the balcony, mint juleps would be served in a while. At last, a chance to wear my Southern Belle dress, so I quickly got changed and went outside.
While we were waiting, the tour party arrived preceded by one poor old soul who had decided to come as Miss Scarlett (they told us that the staircase in the film ‘Gone with the Wind’ was based on the one in the plantation house but I have to say that it was nothing special and I think this was thought up by the same person who decided the house was haunted!!) Anyway, Miss Scarlett descended the bus steps in her white crinoline and the rest of the party followed on behind.
We were in fits (I don’t think they could see us at the back of the balcony) because as John pointed out, they weren’t far short of being ghosts themselves! We were then served our mint juleps and canapés by another weirdo who now went by the name of The Hors d’Ouvres Fairy. These people in Cajun Country – for that is where we were – are definitely not your regular guys. Something to do with all the inter-breeding, I think, and this woman was very chirpy like a little bird – very friendly (or at least more so than the Kommandant) but definitely a bit weird – “I probably won’t remember your name so I shall just call you sweetie!”. Anyway, the mint juleps were very sweet and I liked them but Gordon wasn’t very struck.
That evening, we went off towards Lafayette and had dinner at a place called “PreJeans”. It was a Cajun Diner advertising “Down Home Eating” and plenty of live zydeko music. Now how can I describe zydeko? John reckons it sounds like somebody is winding up the gramophone – every number sounds the same, the ‘band’ consists of a squeeze box and a fiddle among other things and it’s quite catchy. Mind you, I’ve played a CD I brought back since I got home and it definitely loses something in the travelling!! We enjoyed the night though, saw a few sights for sore eyes and managed to negotiate the drive home (we’d hired a car which poor John had to drive throughout the week).
Tuesday, September 17, 2002
New Orleans with the Brits
THE STORY OF OUR NOLA ADVENTURES AS TOLD BY OUR DEAR FRIEND, JEAN:
Nothing can go wrong” said John and we believed him. Everything had been arranged by Debbie who is an expert organiser, it looked like the threat of war by Tony Blair and George ‘Dub’ya’ Bush had been put on hold and after all, we were only going for 9 days. We’d even avoided travelling with KLM who had managed to lose our luggage twice on our last trip to the US. No, we were convinced - nothing could go wrong.
Our journey started at 06.30 on Thursday September 19th, 2002 with a drive down to Edinburgh. We left the car there and boarded a City Jet for Paris and apart from the flight leaving 30 minutes late, it was uneventful, took about an hour and a half and we had a nice breakfast. We had very little time in Charles de Gaulle airport as the Air France flight boarded early but for some reason, it then took off an hour late. I had been disappointed to learn that we were not seated at the window but in the event, we had bulkhead seats in the middle with just the two of us in a row of three and lots of leg room so maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad after all. It was about an 9-hour flight so I thought we may even be able to get some sleep but some huge American bloke saw there was an empty seat next to me and decided it had more leg room than where he was sitting so he would move. This was a BIG man – not fat but about 6’6” and broad and his feet were the biggest I’ve ever seen. He sat down and put his arms on the rest between us, Gordon was on the other side with his arm on the other rest and there was I in the middle squashed up like a sardine. I changed my mind about the likelihood of getting any rest. Anyway, the flight passed without any further hitches and both Gordon and I agreed that Air France do lovely food.
We landed in Atlanta eventually and it looked like a lovely airport but we didn’t have much time to see it. The flight to New Orleans was also boarding early so we got on and this time I had a window seat which was good as it was still light. Atlanta is 6 hours behind us and we were supposed to leave at 1850 their time (10 to 1 in the morning by our body clocks) but then once on, the plane didn’t move. Eventually, the Captain told us that something had broken down – the thing that warns them of bad weather – and he wasn’t prepared to fly without it but no matter, they were going to get another part, fit it and then we’d be off. Wrong! They put the new part in, it didn’t work, they tried something else which also didn’t work and then after we had sat on the runway for an hour and a half, they said we all had to “de-plane” as they put it – (how American) The airport lounge was in chaos, as you can imagine, but we were too tired to make a fuss so we called John & Debbie who were waiting for us in New Orleans airport, told them that we’d get a cab and meet them at the B&B place and sat down to wait for another plane.
It didn’t actually take too long before they found us one – this was Delta Airlines, and eventually at 10 p.m. their time, 4 a.m. ours, we took off. No point in having a window seat now – it was dark!! The flight to New Orleans took only 1 hour and 7 minutes and we arrived at 10 p.m. their time as they are an hour behind Atlanta. Can you believe that at this hour it was 84° ???
We landed in Atlanta eventually and it looked like a lovely airport but we didn’t have much time to see it. The flight to New Orleans was also boarding early so we got on and this time I had a window seat which was good as it was still light. Atlanta is 6 hours behind us and we were supposed to leave at 1850 their time (10 to 1 in the morning by our body clocks) but then once on, the plane didn’t move. Eventually, the Captain told us that something had broken down – the thing that warns them of bad weather – and he wasn’t prepared to fly without it but no matter, they were going to get another part, fit it and then we’d be off. Wrong! They put the new part in, it didn’t work, they tried something else which also didn’t work and then after we had sat on the runway for an hour and a half, they said we all had to “de-plane” as they put it – (how American) The airport lounge was in chaos, as you can imagine, but we were too tired to make a fuss so we called John & Debbie who were waiting for us in New Orleans airport, told them that we’d get a cab and meet them at the B&B place and sat down to wait for another plane.
It didn’t actually take too long before they found us one – this was Delta Airlines, and eventually at 10 p.m. their time, 4 a.m. ours, we took off. No point in having a window seat now – it was dark!! The flight to New Orleans took only 1 hour and 7 minutes and we arrived at 10 p.m. their time as they are an hour behind Atlanta. Can you believe that at this hour it was 84° ???
Anyway, we found a cab no bother, got to “La Belle Reve”, the B&B in the Garden District of New Orleans where we were staying and met up again with John & Debs. The house was fabulous in Queen Anne/Victorian style (built 1892) with wooden floors throughout and a veranda to play the Southern Belle on.
There were only 2 guest rooms but each had its own bathroom and we had a huge 4-poster feather bed – it even had steps up to help you get in it – and it wasn’t long before we did!!
Sunday, September 15, 2002
The beginnings of a new adventure
We crunched the numbers and saw a way to live a whole new kind of life. With Boston real estate prices at an all time high, we spent many afternoons trying to imagine a life outside of Boston - and decided that if selling the house we loved could open the way to a life without corporate pressures, we'd give it a shot.
We had started our life together bringing this beautiful home back to life. Eleven years ago, we plunked down our life savings for a house with burst plumbing, a kitchen floor that you could fall through, and a backyard filled with broken concrete and trash.
We had started our life together bringing this beautiful home back to life. Eleven years ago, we plunked down our life savings for a house with burst plumbing, a kitchen floor that you could fall through, and a backyard filled with broken concrete and trash.
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