Day 2 - Exploring the famous French Quarter

Weeks before this trip I had checked out and read Fodor's updated 2011 guide to New Orleans from the library, so I have a general idea of things I'd like to see and a familiarity with the layout of the city.  The French Quarter is of particular historical interest to me and is very close to the convention center.  Plus, there are numerous restaurants to entice my taste buds to try some Cajun cuisine.  Two things I am bent on eating - alligator and crawfish.

One of the representatives at the ultrasound booth mentioned something about a monument to Katrina in a little park at the end of the convention center, so at the end of my work shift I use a restroom stall  to change into my street clothes and go out to search for the monument.  There it is, right across the street from the south end of the convention center, a small hurricane-ravaged house stuck in a tree.  The "Scrap House" is fabricated out of natural and recycled materials by artist Sally Heller.

"Scrap House" by Sally Heller

Canal street marks the southern boundary of the French Quarter.  I've realized that locals don't pronounce "canal" like we do in California.  Instead, the locals pronounce it as "CUN-el".  Running northeast from Canal Street are Bourbon Street, Royal Street, Chartres Street (pronounced CHAW-tuhs), and Decatur Street which is the first I choose to explore.

The French Quarter is the oldest neighborhood in New Orleans.  Many of the buildings date back to the 1800's, a few are from the late 1700's.  The distinct architecture is complimented by the beautiful ironwork balconies many of which are still decorated with strings of beads from the recent Mardi Gras celebration.  Restaurants, bars, gift shops and clothing stores stand side-to-side along both sides of the street.  I wander into Zydeco Blues cajun country store which sells unique souvenirs.  A huge mounted alligator hangs from the ceiling.  A small table is stacked with cans of Cajun-style alligator in front of a box full of small dry-cured alligator head souvenirs.

Five blocks up the street I finally decide to eat at Cafe Maspero.  The atmosphere is pleasant and the menu not too expensive.  I am starved and a plate of Cajun jambalaya sounds like a good introduction to the local gastronomy.  It basically consists of a mixed pile of rice, gulf shrimp, sausage, chicken and vegetables with a piece of garlic bread on the side.  I wash it down with a glass of milk and am completely satisfied.  One Cajun food experience fulfilled.  No cards, only cash is accepted here, I leave a tip and out the door.

Cajun jambalaya

Taking a break away from Decatur Street I cross over to walk along the river.  The steamboat Natchez is receiving passengers for a short cruise on the river.  People are relaxing on benches or strolling along the river.  A short distance down river I spot the tall spires of a structure that can only be Saint Louis Cathedral.

Saint Louis Cathedral, the oldest cathedral in the U.S.

The steps along Decatur Street provide a fantastic view of the cathedral with Jackson Square in the foreground.  Horse-drawn carriages pick up tourists for a prancing tour of the Quarter.  Saint Louis Cathedral is the oldest cathedral in the United States.  I had wanted to attend mass this evening but unfortunately there are no evening masses.

Horse equipped for carriage tours.  Spire of the cathedral in background.

 Around Jackson Square and in front of the cathedral local artists and musicians gather promoting their talents.  I find myself now on a narrow quaint street called Saint Ann.  A few blocks up and loud music and beer guzzling tourists proliferate.  I must have reached the famous Bourbon Street.

A mostly toothless one-eyed man observes me taking photographs of the street corner and starts talking to me.  He offers to take me on a walking tour of the Quarter and promises me great photograph opportunities.  He claims to be homeless.  I ask him when the French Quarter was settled.  He says, "In the 1700's they used to bring slaves up river for the slave trade".  I was looking for a more detailed answer but I guess that will work for me, however, I turn down his tour guide offer.  The sun has set and I should be making my way to the hostel to check in.  I give him a buck and make my way up Bourbon Street toward Canal Street.

Bourbon Street

The atmosphere is alive with tourists out for a good time.  Bar after bar line the street.  A few tourists stagger along with beer in hand.  An old three-legged dog leashed to the entrance of a bar lies along the sidewalk.  He has so much character I spend at least half an hour photographing the old dude.

Three-legged dog on Bourbon Street

I had informed the hostel that I would be checking in at about 7 pm.  I could spend hours people watching on Bourbon Street but it's already 8 pm so I should make my way to Canal Street and get on a trolley.

The old trolley car rolls slowly up the middle of Canal Street stopping at every cross street.  Vehicles travel the street on either side.  There are no barriers or fence separating the trolley from the rest of the street.  Pedestrians can freely walk along or cross the tracks.  The fare is a buck twenty-five.

The trip to the India House on the cross street South Lopez is only about 15 minutes.  I found this hostel online.  It appears to be quite popular and is conveniently located along the trolley route on Canal Street.  The India House Backpackers Hostel is an old architecturally gorgeous house that's been transformed into a hostel.  I had booked a bed in a dorm room for $18 per night.  I pay with the last remaining cash I have.  They only accept card payments of $80 or more.  I ask the front desk attendant why so few places accept cards in New Orleans.  He isn't quite sure but believes it may have to do with the high crime rate and fraudulent use of stolen credit cards that the service charge fees imposed on businesses that accept credit and debit cards is very high in New Orleans. 

He shows me around the house.  There is a living room, sitting room, kitchen and dining room that are all cozy and welcoming.  The decor inside the house is very liberal and celebrates various pagan cultures and encourages a life void of discipline or limits.  The local voodoo and gypsy culture is apparent as well.  Over the television there are movie posters of "Indiana Jones" and "The Shining".  Yellow lace panties hang from the mantle of the fire place in the sitting room.  Several people are relaxing either reading or using their laptops.

In the backyard is a patio with a bar, an above-ground swimming pool with wooden deck decorated with pirate flags and painted mermaids on the walls.  Wooden shed-like structures contain the dorm rooms and unisex bathrooms.  International travelers are hanging out drinking and socializing while music plays.  The attendant shows me the room I will be sharing with seven other guys.  He hands me my sheets and pillow and gives me a choice of two top-level bunks.  I choose the one farthest from the door.

Click here to visit the India House website

A friendly man in his 40's walks in and says hello.  He introduces himself as Burkhardt.  He is from Germany and is staying here for three months.  He speaks very good English and shares about his bicycle accident resulting in a knee injury.  He seems to walk fine though.  He goes back outside to join the party on the patio.  The music is loud, the dormitory door is wide open because it is rather warm and humid, but despite all this I am exhausted and need to get some rest.  I have absolutely no cash left so I will have to walk the two miles to the convention center in the morning but I want to try to attend morning mass at 7:30 am so I will need to leave at about 6:30 am.

Bed made, batteries charging, alarm set, backpack next to me so I don't roll off the top bunk, I lie down for a Cajun slumber at about 11 pm.  Good night........................