CyberInk: New Orleans

The Garden District

If I won the lottery, I'd snag a house in the Garden District of New Orleans without a second-thought. I cannot express the warm homey feeling of clattering along the Trolley tracks along St. Charles Avenue and just soaking in the Victorian and turn-of-the-century Greek Revival architecture. Turn off of St. Charles and within 50 paces of Mardi Gras parade revelry you find yourself in the narrow, quiet, tree-lined streets . . . just grab a bagel and a To-go coffee on a Sunday morning and walk at random in the Garden District south of St. Charles Avenue . . . Sure, Anne Rice lives there . . . and sure she's rich . . . but by California standards I think I can get into one of these homes by the time I'm ready to retire (if New Orleans doesn't sink into the mud by then -- per Army Corp of Engineers' projections).

I'd just sit on my porch, . . . read a good book . . . pet my dog (which I'd actually name "Rover") . . . and drink Mint Julips like they are supposed to be made. I'd probably even have enough money to afford some really nice Southern affection . . . 'cause there's plenty of it for sale, baby!

(View map of the Garden District.)

The French Quarter

I am fascinated by the French Quarter . . . from the street musicians hammering out strange-chorded blues on a three-stringed guitar while a dog lays idly alongside a nearby felt hat salted with dollar bills, . . . to strangely plump women with fiery red hair and cat-eyed sunglasses stuffed into too-tight turquoise dresses, . . . to the to-me ancient 18th-century architecture (that at times seeming to crumble as you touch it . . . and other times strangely substantial rendering your presence anachronistic), . . . gas flames flickering in the twilight dim, . . . to the black whores of Fat Tuesday that stroke your chest and whisper sweet nothings as an accomplice snips your wallet necklace from behind and snags it from the beer- and bleach-drench ground, . . . to the frontal nudity hovering above the rose-skinned lips of cross-eyed fraternity youths . . . to the mud-encircled, overflowing portable toilets . . . to the yellow-toothed crystal dealer that pounds my chest with a threatening finger . . . to the savory essences of beignets and chicory-laced java . . .

There is no place like New Orleans . . . and, of course, no place in New Orleans like the French Quarter.

(View map of the French Quarter.)

Photo (C) 1993 by by Grant L. Robertson, Inc., 308 N. Causeway Blvd., Metairie, LA 70001

Voodoo Museum

I was expecting the Voodoo Museum to be much more of a tourist trap than it actually is. Something large and polished with little monitor-based movies placed strategically around the silly props. What I instead found was a rather strange little storefront and two smallish rooms (and one hall) stuffed with 19th- and 20th-century VooDoo memorabilia, . . . including skulls, wishing stumps, paintings of the lineage of past voodoo priestesses . . .

For a rather small price (compared with the potential benefits), the front room offers a wide-selection of voodoo spells and "mojo" that can find true love, ward off evil, and even help one win at gambling! I bought myself a mojo bag to put under my pillow, . . . and it must have worked because I just met the most wonderful . . . well, uh . . . that's another story. The VooDoo dolls here seemed more realistic, more substantial than those sold down along the French Market. Less mass-produced. I ended up buying the ones at the French Market, though, 'cause the ones here looked just a bit too actualized.

(Visit the Voodoo Museum's Website.)

The Natchez Sternwheeler

Does it sound totally touristy to board a paddlewheeler while visiting New Orleans? Of course it is! But who would want to miss it!? The Natchez is a authentic, restored steam-powered sternwheeler that takes tourists like me about 5 miles down the Mississippi to the site of the Battle of New Orleans. The coolest part of our trip, however, was going upriver about a half mile to see where that huge barge crashed into the Riverview Shopping Center. Total destruction! It was great.

(Visit the Natchez Steamboat Website.)

The Oak Alley Plantation

Evidently, because of the fine architecture and appointments of Oak Alley's stately manor, some of the exterior shots of "Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte" (with Betty Davis) was filmed here (and also at Houmas House across the river) . . . as well as some scenes from "Interview with a Vampire." I actually liked the grounds themselves the best -- even the creepy little graveyard under a towering oak on the estates west side. The huge tree-lined drive from the river is stunning.

(Visit the Oak Alley Plantation Website.)

The Laura Plantation

It was rainy outside and since I was the only one that showed up for the tour, I was given VIP treatment! My tour guide took me through the old cellars under the main house and even explained how the entire house was once split apart with one half of it reassembled hundreds of feet away.

Of all the plantation tours, I think this one is most likely the best. Why? Because the inside of the plantation is in total ruins . . . nothing is phoney and glimmery. Everything is true-to-fact. Besides, it was also at the Laura Plantation that the legend of Uncle Remus was created. Also, my tour guide told me some really sordid tales of masters seducing slaves, and the difficult situations that the resultant little mulatto babies created. The horror! The horror!

(Visit the Laura Plantation Website.)