New Orleans

New Orleans is only an hour and a half from Biloxi, MS.  Having lived in LA, that seemed like a relatively short trip, and I would be getting somewhere, so we decided to take a day to see it.  So, we got up early (really I did, Ryan got ready in five minutes).  We left for our excursion at 8:00 am.  But we needed food.  So, we headed down to the Beau Rivage.

The Beau Rivage is a huge casino, so we hoped there would be good food.  After all, most casinos are known as much for their gambling as they are for their buffets.  We were hankering for an omelet, and didn't want to waste time finding a place (like yesterday), so we walked into the giant casino and hotel.  We found the buffet and order two adult meals – Ryan got a sweat tea and I got some coffee.  The teller then told us the damage - $65!!!!!!  Wow doesn't begin to explain it.  We assumed the food was so good it would bring Heaven into your mouth at that price, but we were here and the casino knew it, so we succumbed. 

We headed straight for the omelet table.  A fun looking young chef was behind the counter taking orders and preparing it before your eyes.  He was already making two others when Ryan ordered, so I had to wait.  Not a problem because I was still exhausted.  I looked at my options and pondered if I really wanted one, but there was no sausage.  The chef asked me what I liked and when I told him I would pass because I don’t like ham or bacon, he said, “I could get you sausage.”  “You could?”  To which he replied in a most exuberant voice, “Of course I can!  I am behind the counter and can do whatever I want.  You are over there so you can’t.  You want sausage, I will go slice some up now.”  How could I say no? 

We had a quite breakfast, just waking up.  When we finished we decided we needed some Jamba Juice because they were having a two for one deal.  The closest Jamba Juice to Biloxi is in New Orleans.  Perfect!  We were already on our way. 

I was not feeling well.  My stomach felt like it was being ripped apart and I was so tired.  So, I got him to the high way (where we would be for 85 miles) and asked to sleep.  He told me no problem.  He drove in torrents of rain for the first hour.  Rain poured so hard we could barely see twenty feet in front of us.  There was a MINIMUM speed limit of 45, which means people have had to drive slower.  I crashed out for twenty minutes (hard to sleep with that rain coming down).  Curious, we looked up the weather in Biloxi because the base was still on high hurricane alert.  The Weather Channel said there was a six hour flash flood warning.  But, as we crossed a four mile bridge to Louisiana the rain stopped which was great for us because we didn’t bring an umbrella. 

We pulled into West New Orleans and got a Jamba Juice.  His was significantly better than mine.  I ordered this awful apple green drink.  I didn’t even finish a quarter of it.  But, we walked down Pondrys and enjoyed the sights.  The buildings were both fine examples of history and the damage to the hurricane all at once.  The streets are not well labeled, but on the corner of every other street are maps and markers to the sights.  Apparently the Essence Conference was taking place, though we opted out of that in order to see more of the history. 

As we walked we discovered the many art galleries and museums.  Most were closed.  However, we stumbled upon a cute little shop with no windows but a giant wood-paneled forest green door.  The name above the shop was Steve Martin Fine Art.  We were hooked.  Both having the comedian in mind, we thought it would be fun to see what was on the other side. 

We walked into a dimly lit eight by twelve brick shop with acrylic paintings on the walls and the metal sculptures throughout the room.  We were hooked and had to head upstairs to the main gallery.  We walked up a white curved stair case lined with beautiful paintings and sculptures.  There were colors of all shades and distorted faces of acrylic.  We stumbled upon the artist himself – comedic in style.  His hair was a curly wire of black, his frame small and pale, his face cheerful.  We introduced ourselves and wandered around the working studio complete with ladders, blank canvas and tarps.  It was a great example of art. 

We walked back out and headed south.  We saw the Appeals Court and the homeless people asleep in the park.  Statues of Benjamin Franklin and John Clay lined the walk ways.  As Ryan and I headed down the street we saw a sign for the Civil War Memorial Museum opened in 1870 and is the oldest museum in New Orleans.  The building was massive and looked like it didn’t belong in the city at all.  Completely old red brick, designed to look more like a masonic center than a museum and fifteen steps to the entry.  Outside was an actual cannon used in the war (now no longer operable).  As you entered you were accosted with dark high arced ceilings with a beautiful blue stained glass window on the other side of the hall and another cannon pointed right at you.  Pictures are not allowed, but I was allowed to get a picture of the entirety of the hall from the entry way. 

We saw actual uniforms, a lot of weapons ranging from guns, rifles, and sabers to cannons and hand grenades.  But my favorite piece was a steel toned piano that had seen the front lines.  Beautiful and I wanted to play it.  I ran my nails over the beautiful steel chords and heard a quite melody.  We watched a short clip on the museum and had some water (it was hot and humid outside). 

On our way out we met a man that can best be described as jolly. He looked very much like a thin Santa Clause and had a disposition to match.  He told us of his many adventures of being a native New Orleans.  At about sixty five, he had some stories.  Though he spoke most highly and fervently about his military friends.  He and Ryan exchanged stories about planes (Ryan being in the Air Force and having worked on many himself).  But the most important thing he said was to enjoy the gumbo on Canal Street.  I liked him so much I took a picture of him – the first real southern hospitality we had enjoyed. 

We headed out and next door in a five story building of plaster was the Museum of Southern Art.  Now, if you are like me and wonder what that means (modern, ceramic, etc.) it just means each piece was created in the South or by a Southern artist.  We started at the top floor and worked our way down.  We saw portraits of Southern leaders (mostly Civil War leaders) and depictions of slavery and civil rights.  There was even an entire floor devoted to the Blues.  What I learned two things from this museum: 1) the Southern artists seldom create happy art work and 2) there is a museum that can bore me. 

Disappointed but not unhappy, we crossed the street to the National WWII Museum.  This museum got me the second we walked in the doors and above my head floated two giant planes.  I am not adept at plane knowledge, so just go with me – big and old and we used them to fight in WWII.  The museum was divided by the fronts we fought on (Pacific Theater and European Theater) and had a beautiful balance of video of actual footage and interviews to artifacts.  Live veterans of WWII greeted us and browsed with us as we took in the rich history.

Across the street was a 4D video narrated by Tom Hanks that took five years to make. If you do the math that is one more year than WWII itself.  If you are like me and don’t know what 4D means, let me enlighten you.  It means you actually experience the film you are watching through lights, sounds, seats moving, even the falling of snow.  It was the most incredible thing!  I studied war in college, so most of what was presented was not new to me, but the presentation brought it home.  The discouragement, inhumanity, and sorrow that were displayed were so intense I couldn’t help but cry (and I don’t cry in movies).  Sitting next to a warrior made it all the more real. 

The capacity for humans to inflict such pain on each other never ceases to amazing me.  My heart was stirred and torn between wanting to fight for justice and still finding a way to show compassion. It took me some time to come down off the very depressing high.  We finished the basics of the museum (you can’t do this museum in one day) and missed out on a very neat idea of playing a role in a submarine, completing a mission and finding out if your died in the actual battle.  Another time.  All in all, that was our favorite thing we had done thus far. 

We headed down to Canal Street for some dinner.  When we arrived it was like a complete culture shock!  In the entire French Quarter there are cops on patrol on EVERY corner, you can walk down the street drinking anything in aluminum or plastic.  The colors and noises rivaled New York City.  We wanted to find the gumbo place but could not remember the name.  So, we walked into a Marriott and asked the concierge.  The hotel was bumping like a club…quite literally, and the security guards were nonchalantly leaning on the walk way railing.  There was so much smoke of all kinds and the people were all drunk.  All we had to go one was that the gumbo place was on Canal and was across the street from a funeral home.  They knew exactly what we were talking about.  So headed out to the 3200 block.  What we didn’t know was that we were at the 550 block.  We decided to stop our quest (mostly because he was hungry and my feet were hurting from wearing heels for ten hours) and just find a place on Bourbon Street.

As we walked we noticed that no one uses the sidewalk and everyone walks and stops wherever and whenever they want.  We saw some strange street performers from naked to crazy but could not find a legitimate restaurant to save our lives.  Beer: Three for the price of one.  Martinis: Two for the price of one.  Food:  Who eats?

We branch off to one of the side streets and find that all restaurants don’t open till 6:00 p.m. but it was only 5:00.  I knew I had to get food into Ryan or he might very well eat the drunkards walking so very slowly in front of us.  We finally spot a quaint little French place: Café Soulé.  They don’t have any gumbo but they do have food and are open.  So Ryan orders a French Dip and I get the French version of a chicken sandwich on croissant – AMAZING!!!!  Ryan takes a couple bite of the dip and requests me to try it.  It took all I had in me to eat one bite there was SO much salt!!  So he sent it back and ordered what I got – yumminess in my mouth!  To make sure we got the true French experience we ordered some beignet (a warm pastry covered in powdered sugar).  Great food changed both our attitudes at we headed the few miles back to our car. 

We headed back home to relax with a movie and head to bed – beaten by the heat but happy with our day.  Back in the pouring rain we decided to try the new Red’s Apple Ale and stopped off at an out of the way grocery store.  When we got in we just wanted showers, a movie, and sleep.  We put in The Longest Yard and enjoyed the relaxing night with the new ale (super delicious by the way) and headed to bed. 

Contented.