Laissez le Bon Temps Roulez

9 December 2009

We've symbolically hit the halfway mark in America at the Mississippi River just north of New Orleans. Old Man River, Father of Waters, Big River, whatever you call it, we're over it and into New Orleans, which is a fabulous city and not just because it's almost 80 degrees here. Humid, overcast, and blessedly warm. We were here for our first anniversary, seven years ago. That trip we drove straight down from DC and then up to David's hometown in Illinois. This is ever so much better, taking time to see what's worth seeing, and no 10-hour driving sessions. That time, we stayed at the Hilton (thanks to the in-laws) and ate at Emeril Lagasse's restaurant (thanks to my folks). This time we're in the nicest place we've been on this trip...the Clarion, which is a beautiful room, albeit on the floor that's being renovated and has wet paint and decorators playing mariachi music on a radio in the hall at 8am. But for $50, you shouldn't be too picky. Even though next door is a wig shop featuring a sale on gold teeth. Classy.

No Commander's Palace for dinner this time, but we did revisit another place we remembered—The Gumbo Shop on St Peter's Street. Unsurprisingly, they feature gumbo, but also other delicious things like jambalaya and boudin and shrimp creole, etc. Boudin being some sort of sausage made with 'pork and pork products' so probably something I don't actually want to know too much about, but yummy with Creole mustard nonetheless.

Wandered the French Quarter all evening, and found oruselves at the Cafe du Monde, home to beignets and cafe au lait. Beignets being a sort of rectangular doughnut that come piled on a plate with a mountain of powdered sugar and make you pleasntly sick to your stomach after eating french bread and gumbo all night. And then you go to a bar on Bourbon Street and drink Abita, the local beer, and watch football with all the other tourists. And star to feel unpleasantly sick, but how often are you in New Orleans? So just go with it.

Despite Katrina, Bourbon Street remains full of tourists and bead shops and some actual jazz--both from the bars and street musicians. In fact, the whole French Quarter seems pretty much unchanged from the hurricane, barring the addition of t-shirts that say 'Katrina Gave Me a Blow Job I'll Never Forget.' Uh-huh.

We did a lot of wandering between old buildings and slightly younger tourists, managed to pick up Jimmy Buffett's newest album on the release date at Margaritaville (sigh), ate extremely well again for lunch, window shopped, and finally, sadly, drove oursleves north across Lake Pontchartrain and up toward Mississippi.

Mississippi is not as nice as New Orleans, but still warm and southern and that's good enough. We stayed off the main interstate, and instead opted to drive up Route 61. This is the famed Mississippi Delta region, much sung about in blues by old black men with funny names (see: Muddy Waters, Blind Lemon Jefferson, T-Bone Walker, Howlin' Wolf, etc.) It's flat and there is actually quite a bit of cotton growing and shabby little towns and big silos...it's all very evocative of something. But I'm not sure quite what.

Stayed in Vicksburg, site of a major turning point campaign in the Civil War; the city was beseiged by Sherman and Grant for six weeks until Confederate General Pemberton (of the Philadelphia Pembertons) surrendered, and thereby gave control of the Mississippi River to the Union. It's a big park now, in which Illinois veterans have built themselves a Parthenon-shaped temple to their victory, and which contains the ruins of the USS Cairo, an iron-clad naval ship that sank in the river in 1862. Which now lives under a big tent.