Smiles Matter

Time to say adieu to the Big Easy! I took Friday off, and went into town for what was, in hindsight, a rather mild good bye.

On the bus in, a very Forest Gump-like man was sitting across from me. He had many bags filled with beads... several years worth of collected beads, and was putting them on, and telling me, and anyone else who would listen, when he'd gotten them. It was a cheery monologue, and I couldn't catch many of the words over the rumble of the bus, but he was obviously a parade junkie. He also told me that there would be a parade in the French Quarter at 2 PM. I didn't quite know whether to believe him, but what the heck... I'd look for it.

As I entered the Quarter I heard a very loud calliope! Where was it? Block after block it got louder-- not like the usual music that floods out of the stripper clubs! I walked about 10 blocks before seeing it. It turns out it was on the Natchez, a paddle-wheel steamboat at the waterfront. This was their pre-departure concert... a very effective crowd-getter for their river tours.



After that ended, the riverbank became more quiet, almost contemplative.



But I had to find that parade... It turns out it was for a new musical opening at Harrah's Casino-- "Hats"



This woman, it seems, just jumped into the start of the parade-- and was having a fine time strutting along... The drum major was fine with this, and even loaned her the baton.



Of course the music was the important thing...




and the very simple, horse or tractor drawn floats, where they threw beads... I wish they'd had coins too, but for an off-season parade, this was pretty good. I ran out of pocket space to hold red and purple beads.



The parade went through the Quarter, then up--and down Canal Street. By the time it got there, nobody much cared, and I had had plenty of beads thrown at me.



With that out of the way, I could have gone to a museum, or a Gray Line tour... I decided to do the cheap thing, and take the free ferry across to Algiers-- the part of New Orleans that is south of the river. Once there, I could have toured the warehouses where they assemble the Mardi Gras floats, but I was getting hungry, so I turned around and took the ferry back.



Here's a view of the French Quarter from the boat:



And the obligatory streetcar shot... not quite Desire, but something.



I spent the next four or so hours visiting bars, eating more beignets, poking my head into shops. There were large groups of volunteer workers... Presbyterian, Catholic, and a group of guys with "CAW-TCA" on their shirts and caps-- I'd seen one of them at the Rock-n-Bowl, so now I had to ask. It turns out they are all Canadian Auto Workers. It's true that volunteers are what's keeping the economy afloat, judging by the way these guys shopped.

I ate at the same place I'd eaten on the first night-- though this time I didn't have the fried food, I had some sort of sandwich with olives and ham and other meats... and it was VERY GOOD. Wish I could remember what it was called.

The day made me look at the French Quarter from a different angle-- as a place, rather than an amusement park. It's full of residences, some very elegant, as well as topless and bottomless shows, bars and souvenir shops. At one narrow sidewalk I yielded right-of-way to a nun who was late for 5 PM mass... she was heading down the street in a white habit, at full speed! Maybe it's that aspect that makes New Orleans real and wonderful and Las Vegas so plastic.



But, like the entire New Orleans adventure, my day too, had to come to an end. I took the bus back along St. Charles... I couldn't figure out where the South Claiborne bus stopped on Canal, or if it still ran that late at night.

Forest Gump wasn't on the bus, but there was a large man with large round glasses, gray hair pulled back in a ponytail, looking like a character out of Confederacy of Dunces, or perhaps an oversized Truman Capote... He pulled out a book of expert cryptic crosswords and started in working. Oh I love this town!

Saturday morning I woke up and packed. Thanks to Sharon and George who drove me to MSY-- the New Orleans airport. I got back to Berkeley about 7:30 PM... almost ready for the term to start.

It was a great two weeks... good bye New Orleans