Continuing the theme of following recommendations from friends who had visited New Orleans before, we took breakfast on our final full day in town at the legendary Brennan’s restaurant on Royal Street. It had undergone a huge renovation in 2014 and been restored to its former 1940s glory.
And a delightful experience it was. Southern hospitality was taken to a new level as we were greeted and served by what was described as a “team” of servers, all of whom could not do enough for us. Moreover, they were dazzled by the details of our road trip.
Although you might not have guessed it from his appearance (a smart suit took the place of a tie-dye shirt), the Maitre D’ was a Deadhead and had seen many of the Dead and Company concerts on their recent summer tour. We agreed that whilst John Mayer was not Jerry Garcia, he was a great interpreter of the music and an amazing blues guitarist.
The beautiful decor and attentive service were matched by the outstanding food (I had a delicious eggs benedict) and the best coffee we had drunk so far.
As we walked back towards Canal Street we stumbled across the Magnolia Praline Company premises, a vibrant and enticing emporium selling hot sauces and pralines. The murals that adorned the walls were as entertaining as the samples of their produce were mouthwatering.
We were so enamoured of the hot sauce samples that I posted a photograph of a couple of bottles on Facebook. This led to an order from a restaurant owner in our hometown of Folkestone! Whilst I was only too pleased to buy the two bottles, I did wonder how many t-shirts I would not now be able to purchase because of the increase in weight of our baggage on our return home (only joking, Fiona!).
But enough of food (for now at least).
The primary objective of the day was to ride the three main streetcar lines, both to experience this quaint and old-fashioned mode of travel (we love riding the cars in San Francisco), and to see other parts of the city at little cost and without wearing ourselves out.
We purchased our “Jazzy Passes” (what a great name) for the exorbitant (sic) cost of $3 each for the day and boarded the Canal Street car bound for City Park.
Given that they tend to move in a sedate fashion, streetcars nowadays are viewed more as tourist attractions than a way of getting quickly from A to B. But they are redolent of a slower, more graceful age.
They also invariably provide the theatre for some of both the most humorous and unpleasant examples of human behaviour. Our streetcar was no exception as an elderly man contrived to fall through one of the seats, necessitating a visit from a clearly disgruntled driver who insisted, on putting it back together herself.
The fact that New Orleans is technically below sea level, and that deep digging is not permitted in some areas, people are usually buried above ground rather than below. A visit to the city would not, therefore, be complete without a visit to one of the extraordinary cemeteries found throughout.
The Canal Street car brought us to the Cypress Grove cemetery which we wandered around for an hour. The images here are just a sample of the many stunning tombs, large and small, that inhabited the park. Unfortunately, the spectacular St Louis cemetery appeared to be closed.
On our return to the city, we had an iced coffee in Starbuck’s in the Sheraton hotel lobby before searching for the nearest St Charles Streetcar which would transport us to the Garden District.
Unlike the Canal Street cars, which ran every couple of minutes, it was immediately apparent that this was a more infrequent service. It was twenty minutes before we were able to board, along with around thirty other people. Fortunately, we managed to get seats. With each succeeding stop, more passengers got on, rendering it a slow and uncomfortable journey to Washington Avenue when we squeezed ourselves through the hordes to get off.
We had had our fill of cemeteries for one day, so decided to walk back to our hotel (a punishing journey in the heat) rather than pay a visit to the famous Lafayette Cemetery that lay in front of us.
The Garden District, which was developed in 1832 on the Livaudais Plantation, extends over much of the city and was founded by the settlers who built houses and commercial properties here. Wealthy bankers, merchants and planters built grand mansions surrounding by luxuriant gardens.
As we strolled along this avenue of extravagance and opulence, I could not help feeling a pang of uneasiness that these gorgeous buildings had been in many cases created by slave labour. It would not be the first or last time that this response would, if only momentarily, overcome me on this trip.
After packing we went out again at 7pm, intending to take the Riverfront Streetcar to the French Quarter. The drizzle that had characterised much of our stay in New Orleans had returned to annoy us again. At least we managed to get under cover for the twenty minute wait for our car.
And then, as we approached Toulouse Street, only half way on our journey, the driver informed us that, due to some filming going up ahead, we would have to leave the streetcar.
We had planned to eat at the House of Blues on Bourbon Street, but en route we passed, or rather didn’t pass, BB King’s Blues Club, which had been another friend’s recommendation.
We arrived shortly before the first band ended their set. We sat upstairs with a passable view of the stage as the second band entertained us with a mix of soul and funk. Catfish and shrimp, accompanied by two cocktails, was our final and tasty meal in New Orleans.
Our first visit to the city was now effectively over. Whilst we had crammed as much was we could into our three days and four nights, there was still much to see and experience. Most great cities need at least a week even to begin to embrace their heart and soul.
We will be back!
But for now, the road beckoned!
Tony Quarrington 