“Oh yeah, Dad, the parking situation is tricky,” our son Adam announces. We end up squeezing their car and ours into a space more suited for one vehicle. “And you’ll have to move it within two hours to avoid getting a ticket, maybe up past Esplanade in Martingy, where there are a few blocks where you can park overnight without residence permits. Then you’ll have to move it somewhere else by 7:00 a.m.”
Juggling cars in the heart of New Orleans’ French Quarter is something to which our son and his wife – newlyweds – are calmly accustomed. They live in a tiny one-room carriage house apartment in a courtyard off of Royal Street. It’s a cool place to live, difficult parking notwithstanding.
My wife and I have just arrived in the city, and it’s the first time for either of us. I’m immediately drawn to the character, charm, and grit of the heart of the city, and I can’t wait to hit the streets and start exploring – on foot. New Orleans, just to remind you, is one of the most unique of American cities. The history of the place, its geographical setting and its many-hued populace have combined and conspired to result in a city like no other in the world.
A quick review of the history of New Orleans goes something like this: The French had been in the area for a few decades but it wasn’t until 1720 that they established a settlement in the loop or “crescent” of the Mississippi River there. Over 100 miles upstream from the mouth of the big river –that was certainly news to me- the site of the settlement is still not far enough up the river to have much in the way of high ground. This mosquito-ridden lowland does, however, back up to the large Lake Pontchartrain, and this was recognized as a valuable alternate water route to the Gulf of Mexico. A city in this general location would command an unequalled strategic position over the entire Mississippi watershed, which of course includes the vast heart of the North American continent.
The place attracted all kinds of scalawags right off the bat, but it was also the first American city to have an opera house. New Orleans changed hands to the Spanish in 1760, and was ceded back to Napoleon and France in 1800. This is when things get interesting. Napoleon had neither the navy nor the inclination to maintain such a distant colony, so he sought to unload it. What the heck he thought, if the Americans are interested then he might just get rid of the entire French holdings in the new world. This included about half of what is today the continental United States. President Jefferson got wind of this idea and was stunned with the colossal nature of the proposal. Quickly, before Napoleon changes his mind –he’d done it before- Jefferson sets into motion the events which lead to the Louisiana Purchase. Never mind that this move was totally illegal in terms of the lack of Congressional involvement, and the money was borrowed from England and the Dutch, since the fledging United States certainly did not have $15 million at the time. But such details are another story.
The Spanish and French influence on the architecture, language, and proper names of modern New Orleans is delightful. During our visit, our son and his wife instruct us in the proper pronunciation of a multitude of terms of local interest.
We become familiar with the French Quarter and surrounding parts of the city by criss-crossing it on foot with and without our local guides. Strolling, or being jostled about, on Bourbon Street is eye-opening to all but the most jaded of visitors. Late at night, there’s nothing like it. Different music blaring from each bar, barmen on the street hustling potential customers, skimpily clad women doing the same, all manner of tourists and hardy locals alike. It’s quite a carnival, even outside of Mardi Gras. I learn that Bourbon Street was named for a prominent French family, not for the spirit that, among others, flows freely there. And I leave it to the more adventurous to sample “The Hand Grenade, New Orleans’ Strongest Drink”
Our days in the City ease by, pun intended. It’s January, but we hit especially pleasant weather. Warm, sunny, spring-like. There’s ice back home, Marybeth reminds me. We visit the world-class zoo. We take in only a small part of the magnificent WWII Museum, which features an amazing “4-D” movie experience which Tom Hanks produced. We take a cruise up the big river on the “Cajun Queen” with other tourists and convention goers. Narration goes along with the two-hour cruise. “There’s St Louis Cathedral on Jackson Square…The Mississippi is a half mile wide and 200-feet deep here…Three ocean-going ships pass New Orleans every hour…The Battle of New Orleans was the last in the war of 1812 with England.”
We watch the street performers, note the tarot card readers, and peruse Marie Laveau’s house of Voodoo. Not a curse, but similar, The Saints “Who Dat” fever grips the city and we are not immune. By the time we leave the place I’m a big fan.
Of course, we have to sample the exquisite cuisine for which the city is known, and our favorite of such is that cooked for us by our daughter-in-law, and enjoyed in the furniture-free environs of the simple little apartment she and our son call home. Especially outstanding is a dish she makes of shrimp and rice, simple but seasoned just so. Made with love. That’s the secret, they tell me.
Early in the morning on our last day I walk down Royal Street with Adam as he makes his way to the street car stop on Canal Street, on his way to work. “This is my favorite time of the day and my favorite walk in the city,” Adam smilingly informs me. I am equally affected by the charm of the walk, with the balconies, the ornate ironwork, the potted plants, the enormous shuttered doors, the weathered stucco with missing portions revealing handmade brick. Not to mention the intriguing sight of denizens of the night headed for home and a bed.
I watch Adam board the St. Charles Street car and wave goodbye as the railed carriage heads to the Garden District. I think about being newlyweds, starting their married life off in such a unique city, living in an unfurnished hole-in-the-wall apartment on very little money, but being richly nourished by great enthusiasm for life and steadfast love. I’m thankful for the thought, for the reminder.
Did I mention that New Orleans was hit by a big storm a few years ago? No? Good.
By John Robinson [email protected]