A week in New Orleans

Since a certain person has brought into question my earlier pages, I shall attempt to change my style a bit.

�My flight from Toronto to New Orleans went without a hitch, giving superb aerial views of Pittsburgh (where I changed planes) along the way. �Once in New Orleans (pronounced Nawlins or Nuh-wawlins), the heat and humidity hits you quite noticeably - most of which is probably due to the air conditioning in the aircraft. ��I bought a ticket for the airport bus and joined the huge queue. ��It turned out that almost everyone there had come for the CA conference rather than JazzFest - CA had actually hired 2 cruise ships purely for their support staff ! �I had a moderately interesting (but not good enough to transcribe here) chat with a Bostonian who was on his way to the conference to peddle his company's Y2K (year2000) solution, asking about Boston as it's still there on my to-do list. �The bus driver waxed lyrical about New Orleans, informing me that "Whatever you want from a party, you'll find here." �Ignoring the delay at the hotel reception (my name had been entered in the wrong place on their database) And the unbelievably tedious talking lifts (not quite as Douglas Adams, but getting there), the view from the hotel window on the 26th floor was amazing. ��Overlooking Decatur Street (which I'll mention later), the end of Canal Street, the Mississippi and the flatlands beyond, we were at a superb vantage point to see the cruise ships (mentioned earlier) and the paddle steamers in their night-time luminescence. ��Jazz music gently wafts up from somewhere far below. �In the hotel bar (start as you mean to continue) I had a conversation with a Nicaraguan - basically I wanted to try out my meagre collection of Spanish phrases, picked up from listening to records by the Pixies and the Ramones on her. ��She had recently attempted driving home and found the trek far too time consuming (six days), and difficult, running into problems with border authorities and had returned by plane, resolving never to try it again. �The roads within the French Quarter are set out in a grid and mostly one way (which makes crossing them a doddle for those of us used to driving on the left) and on certain days some of the interconnecting streets are shut to traffic, allowing street performers to play on them. ��Chartres and Royal Streets have a large quantity of antique and art dealerships on them, which makes for a pleasant stroll while soaking in the music and architecture of the French Quarter - that and a few beers and Hey Presto! - no flight fatigue ! �Decatur Street is a mix of gift shops, bars and restaurants. ��I had my introduction to real Cajun cooking here, nice 'n' spicy ! ��You can also get a good mix of beers in your belly - Irish pubs, American standards and Micro-breweries all clamour for custom. �Bourbon Street. ��What can one say ? ��Lots. ��This street is busy by day (I had to make a donation to charity because I wasn't looking like I was partying enough) but explodes at night. ��Want to know something ? ��That bus driver was right. �There are many different bars - some are exclusive, some only care that you are over 21, sizes range from large with seating upstairs on the balcony overlooking the madness to bizarre hole in the wall type affairs. ��All are happy to exchange green pieces of paper for beer, and upon leaving an establishment, you can take your beer (albeit in a plastic cup) to walk the streets with. �Music is everywhere in all the local flavours - Jazz, Rhythm & Blues, Rock, Cajun and Zydeco, and entertainment comes in several formats - from people watching (kids in HUGE flares I'm way out of line with fasion), souvenir shop wares, dancers (topless and some bottomless as well) of all sexes. I don't know how to finish this piece, it's just as disjointed as before and I haven't mentioned load of stuff, but if I had to sum up New Orleans in one line, this is it: I'll be back, I didn't spend enough time here.