Yeah. We’re tourists. And, what??

After a leisurely morning of … you guessed it … sleeping in, Jimmy and I set off to explore New Orleans by foot. I just adore the architecture of that city. It feels so well worn, so romantic, and vaguely European. I love that nearly every home has a balcony, in the French Quarter, and that most of them are well adorned with plants and flowers. It really just makes me feel like I stepped back in time. We made our way to the French Market, which has been in “business” since 1791. It has plenty of shopping, markets, restaurants, and live music and runs parallel to the mighty Mississippi River. We found a great little cafe where we could sit outside near a garden and listen to one of the local bands play jazz. I ordered my favorite, jambalaya, while Jimmy went for the red beans and rice. Both were excellent choices.

Eventually, we meandered our way back to the hotel so we could change clothes and figure out what we might want to do that evening. It didn’t take too long for roaming Bourbon Street to be the clear winner yet again. First we wanted to walk a few blocks to St. Louis Cemetery #1 to do some exploring. It was only a few blocks away and on the way we got to see Louis Armstrong Park. For the most part it seemed to be abandoned but their was an enormous, beautiful concert hall there that I sincerely hope is still in use. Just before we reached the park, however, I heard a woman’s voice say “are y’all tourists?” I looked over to see an exceptionally well-groomed woman in a Jaguar with the window rolled down and I nodded to her. To which she replied “you don’t want to go much further up that way” as she pointed in the general direction of the park and the cemetery. She drove away as we both stood there, flabbergasted. I can certainly appreciate wanting to warn someone but it wasn’t as though we were about to cross the line from French Quarter to some sort of ghetto. The cemetery and the park are well-advertised as within walking distance to the French Quarter and I have my doubts that the New Orleans tourism site would lead their visitors so far astray. Unfortunately, when we arrived at the cemetery it was only to find that it had closed at 3pm and we had missed our chance to explore the grounds. Bummer.

Next we were off to dinner at Desire, the restaurant of the Royal Sonesta Hotel on Bourbon Street.  This restaurant was complete with black and white checkered floors and stained glass signs labeling parts of the space.  Our server, Joanna, was an absolute doll.  Jimmy and I decided that when we open our restaurant she’s definitely being brought on board.    We started off with some oysters.  After all, Desire was supposed to be one of the premiere oyster bars in the French Quarter and it lived up to it’s reputation.  For dinner, Jimmy ordered the crawfish etouffe, which we both thought was excellent, and I ordered the most finger-lickingly delicious shrimp pasta Alfredo I have ever had.  I don’t know what it was – because I have had plenty and I make a pretty decent one myself – but it was SO cheesy and SO decadent that I just couldn’t help but eat every last bite and then sop up the remaining sauce with their fresh baked bread.  We were enjoying our meal so much we even ordered a bread pudding to share for dessert.  It was every bit as delicious as the rest of the meal and we were completely satisfied.  Everyone needs a good base to get their drink on anyway, right??

We spent the remainder of the evening doing the Bourbon Street thing – drinks, bars, and general silliness.  I got quite a few compliments on my t-shirt choice that night.  On one of our shopping/dinner dates, Lori and I spotted a t-shirt at Urban Outfitters, in Georgetown, with a funny little character on it that proclaimed “Little Miss Bossy” across the top.  It’s hard to say why but the New Orleans crowd was digging it and that was a-okay with me.  We finished up our evening and hit the sheets.  We had a drive to Memphis the next day and wanted to make sure we were well rested.

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