New Orleans in Review

Mama has been to New Orleans several times but I had only been once for a long weekend when I was 17 and in a French emersion program at Georgia Tech. Clearly, I don’t remember much. I was eagerly awaiting this part of the trip since so many friends in New York rave about modern New Orleans and how it will be my spirit home.

                                                                       (Soniat House)

Sadly, I missed what they find magical and I don’t see myself returning there. I think some people who don’t know the South find this the perverted, dark South they read about. I guess there is that, but spending so much time in the incredibly elegant cities of Charleston and Savannah, New Orleans simply fell flat.

                                               (His face and her arms had me in stitches)

                           (Check out the needlepoint belt we found mama's going to make for me!)

                           (Fantastic Perfumeur- Thank you Douglas Little for introducing me!)

It had it’s highlights. Our hotel, Soniat House, was sublime. I will never forget those biscuits.

Commanders Palace lunch was amusing, Galatoire’s was chaotic but epic Red Fish menieuiere, potato soufflé and Oysters Rockefeller. The carousel bar was a hoot and I nearly got sick spinning around that thing. I loved, loved Magazine Street and its charming boutiques and great antiques and Myscha Lake belting out standards at The Spotted Cat was gorgeous. And who can complain about the architecture?

                                                            (The Garden District)

But the amount of drunk, delirious, drug riddled people that greet you at every corner in every area was sad to me and mother, not to mention scary. We were admiring the beauty of a white husky regally perched on the sidewalk while his filthy owner was drinking and attempting to play a guitar. When another dog came up to say hello the owner grabbed the husky by the collar and threw him against a wall. Mother and I were so angry and certainly said something but he just threw an F-bomb our way and went on looking for discarded cigarettes. Another man yelled at his son so loudly we just ducked into a corner to wait for him to pass. A drunk man was waving his paper bag of booze around so violently in front of the Carousel Bar even the door man got nervous. And you can forget Bourbon Street.

I didn’t find any of it charming, amusing or exciting. It was just dirty, depressing and dangerous. Those poor 18 year old girls slouched up against poles in thongs and too big heels waiting for customers just turned my stomach.

              (The New Orleans Athletic Club- jogged over for a quick workout and a rubber neck)

Maybe I’m getting old! Maybe I am in a different head space, regardless, it soured the city for me. One place I did go gaga for was the New Orleans Athletic Club. Our hotel has  free passes for guests so I got up Tuesday morning and jogged over to the Edwardian explosion for a little work out. The marble slab showers, indoor pool and deep red drinking room were enough to make me want to move in. 

                                        (Myscha Lake belting out standards at The Spotted Cat)

This morning mama and I woke up for one last biscuit before heading to the airport on the busiest travel day of the year. We were blessed with great weather, no traffic and two hours to spare before our on time flights. 

I can only imagine what boat we will float on next be it on the Nile, the Ashely or Bosphorus. Stay tuned. 

American Queen Adventure Last Day!

On a lark the night before we realized we had nothing to do in St. Francisville and asked about the ‘Mystery, Mayhem’ tour. Ended up sounding too bizarre to pass up. So we booked our tickets to see a haunted plantation and visit Angola prison. Seriously.

The tour started at 8am so we hustled and grumbled in the morning and made it on the bus in time. Seeing the landscape of Louisiana was wonderful. Very lush, lots of spanish moss and ramshackle old mansions, cabins, barns and stables. 

We arrived at Myrtle Plantation at 9am, just in time for the poor souls paying to stay there to get bombarded by peppy people ready for a tour. You can google the plantation to get the full story on the haunting but here is what I recall:

A slave girl was spending a great deal of time with the master of the plantation. They were getting so friendly that she wanted him all to herself. She began eavesdropping on his wife to hear if she said anything bad about her. After getting caught too many times they had her ear sliced off as a reminder to stop eaves dropping. From then on she wore a turban to hide the mutilation. 

She still wanted to prove her love to her master so she devised a plan. She would bake a cake for the children and add just a bit of Oleander to it. The kids would get sick and she would heal them with her special medicine and the family would find her invaluable. Well she added too much Oleander and the children and the wife all died from poisoning. The slave was then hung and her body weighted down by bricks in her apron, sunk to the bottom of the Mississippi. 

Boo!

Now she haunts the house, her silhouette can be seen in the living room mirror and a picture of her floating near the house was passed around in excitement. The woman of the house was very superstitious and that is why there are crosses on all the windows around the doors and key holes are turned upside down to confuse naughty spirits.

Ghosts and ghoul aside the home is incredibly gorgeous. The owners brought a plaster worker back with them from France and he lived with them for years creating all the moldings and cornices. 

Next stop was Angola prison, one of America’s maximum security prisons. But what makes this one so unique is that it is a working farm as well. The prison owns 18,000 acres and raises horses, blood hounds, wolf hybrids as well as acres of crops and cattle.

They also are famous for their rodeos which look highly amusing yet terrifying. The thought that every man you see in there has murdered someone kind of takes the joy out of any of it for me. Don’t get me started on the museum! It was like a haunted house with hand built coffins, images of bludgeoned inmates and weapons they have created over the years to escape or kill. No thank you.

Tonight was our last night on board. I was still pretty weary from the night before and rising at the crack for the tour. But we had a lovely dinner, watched the final show (Christmas themed!) and went to the Engine Room Bar for one last drink and goodbye to all the people we met.

I was pleasantly surprised at how lovely this boat was. I would go again for sure. But they must get their marketing team organized and advertise in places other than AARP. Also, a coat requirement for dinner would be nice since way too many leisure suits, puff paint tees and just plain tee-shirts were worn every night. I kept day dreaming of renting the entire boat for all my friends and family and having burlesque nightly in the main saloon and theme nights for the evenings- 20s night! Caftan Queen! Dress as your favorite Southern Idol!

Tomorrow we disembark, say goodbye to Rod and Dotty and settle into New Orleans for two days of discovery and liquor. 

American Queen Adventure Day Six

I am renaming Vicksburg, ‘Sicksburg’. Holy hot dog I haven’t been that queasy since college. Thank you to the crew for Patron and fried everything! But it was fun to see people who I have encountered daily and now I know them quite well after our wild night. Oh that waitress was twirling! That server was vogueing! I think I motor boated that cleaning lady! 

We had quite a lovely day in ‘The Red Carpet To The South’ as Vicksburg calls itself. We opted out of all the Civil War battleground tours and decided to stroll the main street with it’s lovely shops and head to a handsome antebellum home for lunch. Anchuca was the home of Jefferson Davis’ brother and Jefferson gave an important speech from it’s balcony in 1865. I googled for great places to eat in town and this stoic B&B popped up for having some of the finest dining in the area. 

Dotty, Rod, Mom and I walked the quiet gentile neighborhoods until we found the house. There we had awesome chicken salad, pecan pie and iced tea then took a tour of the home and poked around the bedrooms and gardens. We then strolled back to the court house where we waited for about 20 minutes for the tour bus to pick us up to take us back to the boat.

Oddly enough that was a highlight for me. We don’t ‘just sit’ nearly enough these days and it harkened back to an era pre cell phones where one would simply sit and wait patiently for a ride to come. I organized acorns from a massive oak and made them into a little work of art. Then I took the tops off and made them into Lady Gaga nail extensions. Mom and Dotty just sat in the sun and baked while Rod toured around the block spotting the random curiosities he is known to find (Cator, did you see that purple glitter car?!). Serenity.

We finally got picked up and headed back to the boat where I rested up for dinner and our nightly activities. I did pop up to the Front Porch for a snack and discovered the hot dog machine. Hot Dog! While I was making mine, Carli, one of the waitresses asked me to pull two off the grill for her. She then refused my offer of two hot buns but instead, quietly plopped them both in a cup and sashayed off. I about hemorrhaged in shock and awe and requested a picture. God Bless that girl.

That evening the entertainers presented a show called ‘Walking in Memphis’. Lots of glitter, gospel and blues. Very entertaining. And on that note I crashed. My liver sent a little blessing to heaven.