Something I have noticed:
People in the south don't drink seltzer water and they don't drink iced coffee. This is problematic for me, as they are my two staples. I literally CANNOT find seltzer anywhere. ANYWHERE. Drug stores, grocery stores, you name it, I've tried it, across several states. I've only had success with club soda in decent restaurants. I can deal with the iced coffee thing as hot coffee ultimately serves the same purpose, and if I'm in the car with the AC on the hot coffee is nice. The seltzer thing is killing me though. If there's one thing I wish for, it's a big ol' bottle of ice cold seltzer. It's like being in a foreign country where the milk is served warm, or the coke tastes different. Except imagine a country where there is no milk and there is no coke. That's like me, here in the land of no seltzer. Had I known, I would have stockpiled my car so full of seltzer I wouldn't have been able to see out the rearview mirror. Ah well, as my old history teacher used to say, hindsight 20/20.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
My Tenth Post
Tonight is my second night in New Orleans. I will start by saying the New Orleans is a stunningly beautiful city; even the super-touristy areas have charm. Perhaps that's because the super-touristy area is mainly in the French Quarter, which could never NOT be charming, no matter how touristy it got. Although I've never been there during Mardi Gras; perhaps this is a different story.
My hostel is also "charming" one might say. It is a former brothel, which is a good way to introduce it. Unlike the last hostel, cleanliness is not one of its strengths. Nor does it particularly smell of roses, but rather beer and sweaty hippies. The good news is that I had the forsight to book myself a private room which I am the better off for doing. I even have my very own laz-e-boy or however you spell it. This is where I do my blogging, it is quite perfect really. It is unclear the number of employees here, and difficult to discern who is and isn't an employee, as I hear that some people come and just never leave and end up "working" in order to pay their stay. There is an above ground swimming pool of which I was at first skeptical, but I have since decided that the showers deserve greater skepticism, and have thus opted to use the pool for my bathing. There are people of all ages and nationalities, though aimless drifters I think make up the majority of the residents. It's also mostly men, perhaps adding to the general stink of the place. No offense, guys, but you tend to smell a little more than us ladies. Having said all this, I am quite enjoying myself here. My motto is, as long as I don't get raped, robbed or bedbugs, I'm happy. And this place definitely has a free spirit that is all its own.
I headed out to the French Quarter this morning and strolled around for a few hours, stopping in shops, galleries, and yummy cafes of course. My favorite part of this stroll was going down the quieter, smaller streets and peeking down the tiny alleyways that seem to be the true arteries of the city. They are filled with secret courtyards, gardens, and beauty. Unfortunately, around 1:30 a torrential downpour began that lasted until the late afternoon, so I opted for a driving tour for the rest of the day. I first went over the Mississippi River in search of historical plantations that I had read about, but alas! No dice. All that I found were those gigantic round oil tank things and what looked like mining sites. I then headed over to the areas that had been hardest hit by Katrina. It is unbelievable to see house after house after house that is completely ruined, unliveable, and wonder where all these displaced people went. Each house in this area has the spray painted rescue marks on it, the big X and the number of dead or living found. It is eery and I felt very sad seeing the destruction and the conditions that people are still living in.
After a cat-nap back at the hostel I decided to treat myself to a full meal, as those are few and far between these days. I had absolutely one of the best meals I can remember in a long time - some pulled beef brisket, mashed potatoes and celery root something or other. Friggin fantastic. I went to a restaurant in the Garden District - less touristy than the French Quarter, but home to impressively large and beautiful old houses, a youthful and mellow feel, restaurants and shops lining Magazine Street. From what I have seen of New Orleans, were I to live here, this is where I would want to live. I also found a GORGEOUS bakery/chocolate/gelato joint. I got some stares as I went around photographing it, I was just so obsessed. I even photographed the bathrooms they were so clean and pretty. They have a pretty kitchen in back, a lovely variety of plated desserts, unbelievable (and unbelievably expensive at $60 a pound) chocolates, and lots of gelato and sorbet. OOH and they have croissants too and a few other pastries. OOOH and fancy French macaroons, the ones that are all funny little colors. I finally settled on blood orange sorbet because I didn't think my tummy could handle something heavier after my feast of beef. I am glad that I don't have gallstones (or a gallbladder for that matter) anymore because I really like eating fat.
I feel like a party pooper because some of the hostelers gave me a hard time for not going out tonight. I just get so sleepy! And frankly, bobbing up and down Bourbon Street at 2 am doesn't really sound like a treat to me anymore...but I feel a little bit like I am missing out on New Orleans night culture. Ah well, next time I'm here I'll paint the town red. For now, I have to get up tomorrow and drive 9 hours to Austin. Yeeeeeehaw!
P.S. Check out the cute little t-shirt I bought at the pastry shop tonight:
My hostel is also "charming" one might say. It is a former brothel, which is a good way to introduce it. Unlike the last hostel, cleanliness is not one of its strengths. Nor does it particularly smell of roses, but rather beer and sweaty hippies. The good news is that I had the forsight to book myself a private room which I am the better off for doing. I even have my very own laz-e-boy or however you spell it. This is where I do my blogging, it is quite perfect really. It is unclear the number of employees here, and difficult to discern who is and isn't an employee, as I hear that some people come and just never leave and end up "working" in order to pay their stay. There is an above ground swimming pool of which I was at first skeptical, but I have since decided that the showers deserve greater skepticism, and have thus opted to use the pool for my bathing. There are people of all ages and nationalities, though aimless drifters I think make up the majority of the residents. It's also mostly men, perhaps adding to the general stink of the place. No offense, guys, but you tend to smell a little more than us ladies. Having said all this, I am quite enjoying myself here. My motto is, as long as I don't get raped, robbed or bedbugs, I'm happy. And this place definitely has a free spirit that is all its own.
I headed out to the French Quarter this morning and strolled around for a few hours, stopping in shops, galleries, and yummy cafes of course. My favorite part of this stroll was going down the quieter, smaller streets and peeking down the tiny alleyways that seem to be the true arteries of the city. They are filled with secret courtyards, gardens, and beauty. Unfortunately, around 1:30 a torrential downpour began that lasted until the late afternoon, so I opted for a driving tour for the rest of the day. I first went over the Mississippi River in search of historical plantations that I had read about, but alas! No dice. All that I found were those gigantic round oil tank things and what looked like mining sites. I then headed over to the areas that had been hardest hit by Katrina. It is unbelievable to see house after house after house that is completely ruined, unliveable, and wonder where all these displaced people went. Each house in this area has the spray painted rescue marks on it, the big X and the number of dead or living found. It is eery and I felt very sad seeing the destruction and the conditions that people are still living in.
After a cat-nap back at the hostel I decided to treat myself to a full meal, as those are few and far between these days. I had absolutely one of the best meals I can remember in a long time - some pulled beef brisket, mashed potatoes and celery root something or other. Friggin fantastic. I went to a restaurant in the Garden District - less touristy than the French Quarter, but home to impressively large and beautiful old houses, a youthful and mellow feel, restaurants and shops lining Magazine Street. From what I have seen of New Orleans, were I to live here, this is where I would want to live. I also found a GORGEOUS bakery/chocolate/gelato joint. I got some stares as I went around photographing it, I was just so obsessed. I even photographed the bathrooms they were so clean and pretty. They have a pretty kitchen in back, a lovely variety of plated desserts, unbelievable (and unbelievably expensive at $60 a pound) chocolates, and lots of gelato and sorbet. OOH and they have croissants too and a few other pastries. OOOH and fancy French macaroons, the ones that are all funny little colors. I finally settled on blood orange sorbet because I didn't think my tummy could handle something heavier after my feast of beef. I am glad that I don't have gallstones (or a gallbladder for that matter) anymore because I really like eating fat.
I feel like a party pooper because some of the hostelers gave me a hard time for not going out tonight. I just get so sleepy! And frankly, bobbing up and down Bourbon Street at 2 am doesn't really sound like a treat to me anymore...but I feel a little bit like I am missing out on New Orleans night culture. Ah well, next time I'm here I'll paint the town red. For now, I have to get up tomorrow and drive 9 hours to Austin. Yeeeeeehaw!
P.S. Check out the cute little t-shirt I bought at the pastry shop tonight:
My Ninth-and-a-half Post
Before I move on to New Orleans, check it out, I stopped by Egypt! I kid, I kid...It's just Memphis...as you probably know since Egypt is not known for its metallic pyramids...
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