We decided to do the one other big tourist thing to do in New Orleans (without leaving the city and going on a “plantation tour”) – go on a riverboat cruise. Most tours in the US are booked online and often sold out so we were happy just to be able to secure tickets. We opted out of the (expensive) lunch and setup camp at a table on the outside deck and watch the world (or New Orleans and the Mississippi at least) go by as we listened to the occasional sound of jazz filtering through the boat. We decided it might be a good opportunity to try some beignets (deep fried croissants covered in powdered sugar (i.e. somewhere between a donut and deep-fried mars bar on the heart attack chart)). We changed our tune when we got to the café that made them – there was a longer line than the rides at Disney. As we steamed down the river passing moored ships and those making their way upstream in what today remains a working river port, we saw the signs of devastation from Hurricane Katrina that still remain. It’s not a conversation we had with locals – there is something macabre about quizzing those who’ve lived through disasters about the devastation to their town but at the same time this horrific event is now part of the rich historic fabric of this city. As you cruise down this mighty river and see the flood barriers and the jetties that burnt down, it is hard to imagine how the water got so high. Then you go past some of the wards that were near obliterated, lying below the current water level and you realise that the river is at its lowest in winter. With a whole lot of snow from the northeast, Midwest and the great lakes basin due to flow into the river in the spring, you can see exactly how a massive storm and hurricane winds could flood the city. But the place is resilient. Sure – the Hurricane was over a decade ago now but it’s not the only one they’ve seen and the city has both a flavour of lawlessness (mostly due to some of its anything goes attitude) and a deep rooted sense of resilience. And the river itself is impressive – the rate of flow and the commerce conducted on it makes Australia’s great rivers look more like streams or stagnant pools (which some of them are more often than they should be.
After our Mississippi sojourn, we set off to the nearest mall to participate in a more modern thanksgiving ritual – Black Friday sales. Personally, I can’t think of anything worse than interrupting a relaxing holiday to fight with someone over something I don’t really need to save a couple of bucks. When you travel, though, you compromise, and we headed for the sales. We found a small mall and made our way through what looked a lot like the boxing day sales. And like boxing day sales, unless your goal is to buy sheets and towels or bog-standard undies, or score a really nice pair of shoes, the sales are pretty underwhelming. No sheet or towel set is cheap enough for me to lug it across the states and back and most of the shoes were actually really boring. And with no electronics or outdoors stores in sight, Dan was over it after he bought some extra underwear to stretch the time between laundromat visits. I did ensure we checked out the vintage dress shop a couple of doors down from the hotel before we headed on our cruise. I tried on a few things (which were all massively overpriced) but nothing jumped out at me and I would have expected much better quality for the prices being charged.
Next was another culinary adventure. Wille May’s Scotch House is touted to have the world’s best fried chicken, so we felt we had to find out. Not sure what the neighbourhood was like, we decided to catch an uber. Our uber driver knew the place quite well and had dropped more than a few people there that day already. She said there was a bit of a line. Strange thing about New Orleans – all of the uber drivers we encountered in our time there were African American girls. In fact, we had only encountered one other female driver so far and that was at Disney World. It may have just been a fluke, but I found it interesting. When we arrived, the line was indeed long but we had come this far so we just joined the end. We got talking to this couple standing ahead of us and in a ploy to get a table quicker, we registered as a party of four when the time came. It didn’t help us in the end but conversing with our new friends about world travels, the US, Australia and politics made the time pass quicker and gave us two interesting dinner companions. It also ensured we enjoyed a meal without phones, google and facebook.
We sat down and ordered quite soon after. Like a lot of restaurants that specialise in certain foods, the menu was limited but the decisions on sides were still difficult. One of our dining companions had a gluten allergy but decided to risk it for the sake of the chicken experience. I chose to have my chicken with mashed potatoes, gravy and peas. You could also choose white or dark meat. We both chose white. And a cornbread muffin. You can’t go without a muffin. Dan had the Mac and Cheese. And cornbread of course. I was happy with my choice. The cornbread and mac and cheese were good, but nothing has so far compared to the corn bread and mac and cheese at Red Rooster. The chicken though was excellent – properly cooked through with no pink bits and it was really juicy. Not something you often find with fried chicken. I had an iced tea and got to try a root beer – you hear the term on TV a lot and I just thought it was a different term for creaming soda. It isn’t. It actually had an aniseed kind of flavour. It was nice but I am not sure I could drink a whole can.
Our dining companions, a husband and wife quite a bit younger than us, had moved from Utah to a town an hour or so away. They had come into New Orleans to get cooking gear in the Black Friday sales, and like us, had dropped by Willie Mae’s to see if it was indeed the world’s best fried chicken. That is a big call, but I have to say it was pretty good. And the company too. We hadn’t yet started suffering from cabin fever the way you sometimes do on holidays when you mostly only have each other to talk to but it was good to share an hour or so in conversation with others.
After dinner and a pic for Facebook out the front, we electronically friended our dining companions and bade them farewell as we ordered an uber to take us back to the French Quarter. [Minstrel Boy – Joe Strummer and the Mescalaros – Joe Strummer was a genius with whatever he did – and this track – a hauntingly beautiful instrumental – is the soundtrack that ends The Future is Unwritten the brilliant documentary on Strummer’s life.]
We went back to the hotel briefly but recognising this was our last night in New Orleans, it wasn’t long before we ventured out into the nightly party that New Orleans is renowned for and headed up towards Frenchman street once more. We were a bit too tired for crowded bars by this stage and didn’t really catch any music that piqued our interest while we meandered through the French Quarter. We wandered along the foreshore, stopping momentarily to collect souvenirs along the way – magnets with feather headdresses, a rather cool looking cyber punk mask for Dan and a day of the dead inspired 50s style dress (of course) from Roadkill, my type of shop with goth and vintage clothing and a range of Irregular Choice shoes. The kind of place you would find in Camden.
I left the shoes behind, reminding myself that I could mail order from the UK for the same price. With bags a plenty… We wandered up to Frenchman St with the idea of heading into the Spotted Cat, but it was absolutely packed. Despite the excellent music coming from inside, we weren’t really up for the sardine experience. We wandered into a makeshift craft market in a vacant lot nearby where Dan bought a T-shirt featuring the silhouettes of parade performers. As I had added a dress to my bag, I resisted the temptation to add a T-shirt as well.
Frenchman street was pumping and the music and entertainment was spilling out into the street. We stopped for a while to watch a group of young brass and percussion players entertaining the crowd. It was like a street party happening on the corner. And there were plenty of people selling and drinking booze on the street as they watched. We stayed for a time but declined the offer to buy booze from a random person’s esky on the street. We were by no means hungry by this stage but we had been meaning to check out a diner recommended by some friends and thought when in Rome (or at least the US)… And they definitely didn’t steer us wrong this time either. As described, Clover Grill is a simple old skool diner replete with fixed stools at the counter and laminated photocopied menus. This was no trendy redressing. It was the real thing that felt like it had more than a few stories to tell about this renowned party town. We definitely weren’t hungry but when you travel food is about experience not sustenance and in the belly of America, excess in all things is king. Dan could still squeeze in a cheeseburger and said it was awesome. I needed something more akin to a simple late night snack and opted for a grilled cheese sandwich (otherwise known as a cheese toastie. It was cooked to perfection. Actually grilled with butter on the outside, not toasted in a sandwich press, and oozing with drippy, gooey cheddar cheese. Perfect. And just what the doctor ordered. [Chicken Parma – Loin Groin – a brilliant satire of Aussie male culture, in support of LGBTI rights. And a great tune!]
With very full bellies we took one last wander through the chaotic mess that is Bourbon St – mounted police, open containers, roadworks, schiesters and all (but relatively few musicians) and then headed back to the hotel to sleep and pack for the first leg of our cross country train journey.
After our (reasonably) late night diner experience – it was about 10pm – we headed back to the hotel to pack so we could pack ready for our epic two day train journey across the south.
US states – 5, t-shirts – 8, fridge magnets – 8
