DAY 1
//
It seemed like a movie set; almost miniature in stature, the historic French Quarter buildings looked like they'd been plucked out of a Hollywood film. The streets - narrow. The buildings - compact, stacked. The colors - bold, spanning the ROYGBIV spectrum. The mood - festive, cordial, different. The place was crowded with tourists, most either carrying shopping bags or cameras (alcoholic beverages too), and the sound of car horns, clacking horse hooves (they're actually burrows we soon found out) and chitter-chatter sifted through the humid Southern air. It was totally not what I had expected - NOLA looked to be just a metropolitan city as you passed the Superdome and other high-rise buildings from the highway. But, the street suddenly dropped down and curved, revealing the practically hidden French Quarter - a stark contrast to the contemporary architecture of downtown New Orleans which encapsulated it. I would have had no idea this entire area existed - it seemed almost like a fairytale world nestled within a large city. Looking like it had been plucked from the dusty pages of a history book and glued in the cracks of a modern-day cityscape, I was eager to explore.
Passing St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 (more on that place later), we made our way to the hotel on Royal Street. Driving was next to impossible with the amount of cars and lack of modern-day sized roads, but we reached the Omni Royal safely. After effectively changing into my NOLA wardrobe (seen in the picture below) - consisting of black moto leggings, black huaraches, a goth lace vest and my handmade tarantula fang necklace (read more about those here), I was ready to roll. My next quest was to stake out the area, looking for great photo ops, unusually quirky scenes, anything quintessential NOLA. A five-minute walk from the hotel and we were at the shore of the Mississippi, which the entire Crescent City is essentially built on. The horn of the Natchez and cheers from the annual Oyster Fest made for somewhat of a sensory overload - but then again, the whole city of NOLA is high-energy. From there, we walked to Jackson Square, stopped at Cafe du Monde (so cliche, but so necessary), and did some general shopping in a few knickknack shops (there is a crazy amount of hot sauce stores??..). There were plenty of Mardi Gras-style masks, glittering in the rays of sunlight, and they surely drew my attention. The feathers from boas wafted in the wind, and the classic yellow, green and purple color combo took form in the shining strands of plastic beads. Street artists feverishly sketched and painted, while Jackson Square's resident tarot card readers and fortune tellers mesmerized people with their "gypsy". As the wind funneled through the narrow, cracked streets, hints of trumpet melodies and drummed beats complimented revving car engines and hurried footsteps. But the gardens, the balcony gardens, with emerald ivy spilling down over rusted wrought iron and blossoms of every color and style, surely created the picturesque scene of most. One specific kind of wrought iron is called the Romeo Catcher -- it consists of swirling, sharp-looking barbs placed at the top of a balcony's supportive pillars, aimed at keeping Romeos away from Juliets.
I was seriously on the prowl for some cool beads / trinkets for jewelry making (when am I not) and was super happy to run into the French Quarter Gem and Lapidary Shop. They have killer stones, crystals and other gypsy/hippie goodies. Plus, the worker there was pretty funny, and told us that all people in the South love to cook with tons of butter (he could tell we were from Chicago from our accent - do I really have an accent?!) and they don't care what other people think. Rock on, dude. After effectively scoping out the area and grabbing a Southern Wedding iced coffee from PJ's (almond-flavored), we retired to the Omni rooftop deck and pool to take in an arial view of the city and watch the sunset.
in this photo
My goodies ✴
Goldstone, Kyanite,
Quartz and Obsidian
in this photo
The Cornstalk Hotel
in this photo
The Romeo Catcher
DAY 2
//
Totally infamous, it's probably the MOST recognized street in America. No? So we've all seen footage of Mardi Gras and the, um, shenanigans that goes on during February on Bourbon Street. But I feel like it's Party Town 24/7 - and was proven right. It was probably like 12 noon, and there were loads of people up and down the strip, not many too inebriated yet, though. It's a pretty long stretch of at least four blocks of straight bars, restaurants, and other, ahem, establishments. The Omni Hotel is literally two blocks south of Bourbon, but you would have no idea - it's super quiet, but as soon as you hit that street, a zing of its energy slaps you in the face.
During our trip the almighty Stanley Cup playoffs were going on, Chicago Blackhawks vs. Tampa Bay Lightning, so you all KNOW I was sporting my bright red Hawks jersey AND a Blackhawks logo mardi gras beaded necklace that my dad found in a cigar shop. I was certainly a target for commentary, but surprisingly, only the supportive kind. Apparently, people in NOLA are Hawks fans? Works for me. In-between me shooting pictures of wrought iron balconies, peeling brick and hotel signage I was suddenly saluted in the middle of the street by a man who bowed down to me. YAAS BOW DOWN. Was I Bourbon Street, Chi-Town Royalty? Turns out he was just as obsessed with the Hawks as I was, and originally from Chicago. The Hawks ended up winning the first game in the series that night, and went on to win the Cup. Maybe it was because of a little voodoo hoodoo luck? Nah, it was all skill.
It was my choice to then visit Oak Alley Plantation. Have you ever seen the movie Skeleton Key (I love creepiness, swamps, anything old with a story)?? Oak Alley wasn't in that movie, and is so much prettier than the house in the film, but it definitely bears a resemblance. It was a little oven an hour drive from the Omni, through swamps, fields and small farm towns, but Siri led us there without fail. We had the air on in the car, but as soon as I opened my door in the gravel parking lot the buzz of insects, intense smell of prairie grass and thick Louisiana heat answered back, totally letting you know you're in the deep South. Right off the Mississippi again, the home was surrounded by gigantic oaks (hence the name), cotton fields and spans of grassy plains.
Looking like a quintessential plantation home, this grandiose, pearly-white beauty, complete with pillars and evergreen shutters, was a true architectural gem. It was stuck in time (much like the French Quarter), and you could totally get a sense of nineteenth-century living. Of course we took a tour of the home, which allowed us to see each room and some of the original furniture and decorations. It was yes, a little eerie (I kept waiting for a ghost to pop up in a mirror or something) but 100% worth it. The million dollar view came from the top balcony, looking out at the Mississippi (which is above ground level - but surprisingly, our tour guide said it's never flooded there, or else the oaks would have died) through the portal of leafy, thriving trees. A trip around the back of the home revealed a small graveyard and garden, both of which were nestled within more oaks. I couldn't help but think of Gatsby, but like a Southern-type earlier Gatsby, and Gatsby-esque parties being held here, which our tour guide assured us happened. Like I'd totally go to a party here if it was 1850, and I don't even like parties. Turn up.
So come nightfall, and Bourbon Street it is again. It's like a necessity - you cannot NOT go there if you're in NOLA. So I don't drink, party, anything near that even - I'm just there for a good photo op, and people watching. I love people watching. And there are a lot of people, and a lot of things to watch, trust me.
Bourbon Street comes alive in the dark. The pops of color from neon signs, sound of trumpets and true New Orleans' live jazz, loud conversations (some of them quite funny), mobs of people and the occasional whack in the head from someone hurling Mardi Gras beads at you (happened to me twice) keeps you on your toes. I will warn you - there is somewhat of a smell on Bourbon Street. I've attributed it to a mix of standing water, spilled beer / liquor, spicy sharpness of Creole food cookin' and a good dose of um, garbage-- and it's not for the faint of heart. The crowd was a menagerie of collegiate partygoers, tourists like me, musicians, sorta sketch people, cops, and even families with small children in strollers (somewhat ill-advised, if you ask me?…). But I loved the mix - it's like a melting pot, which makes it that more interesting and unique! We found a bar right across from Cafe Beignet (featuring a trombone soloist), and basically sat and watched the sights. If I didn't mention, they block the span of Bourbon Street at night from cars - which makes sense. It's basically like one long, large sidewalk, like a mini Vegas in some senses. The west end of the street meets up with the modern part of New Orleans, and the junction between new and old is quite pretty, especially if you love architecture. We left around 1am, and the place was still bumpin'. It was a Tuesday, and the club was definitely going up.
DAY 3
//
Ok so this was legit the day I was waiting for. I love love love anything relating to cemeteries, ghosts, legends, scary stuff, goth stuff, the like - so St. Louis Cemetery No. 1, America's MOST HAUNTED cemetery, was a must-see. If you're sort of squeamish, skip the rest of the paragraph. So everyone knows of the famous above-ground graves in New Orleans (there were some other cemeteries we passed on the highway utilizing the same burial method), and most people believe it's because it has to do with flooding. People think that if you bury in the ground, the coffins will float up because of the water table. However, our tour guide totally debunked this theory (I learned a lot on this tour, who would have known?! Be prepared to be hit with some hardcore FACTS). He said that these above-ground crypts act as incinerators, meaning you can fit multiple bodies in these year after year (as many as 18 in some?! - what?!) making it much more space-friendly for early residents in 18th century NOLA. The straight-up heat in the cemetery (yes, it was like at least 10 degrees hotter than already hot New Orleans, because of the lack of air flow and heavy brick/concrete wall surrounding it) and beating sun make the vaults act as small crematories. The tour guide said each family would have a vault, and as each member passed, their name would be added to the marble or stone. There were some pretty interesting vaults, even some marble ones, for the wealthier families.
What's totally weird about this cemetery its that it's literally on the intersection of a hugely busy street, right next to the highway, and across from a gas station and more buildings. I was perplexed. I watch those Ghost Adventure and Ghost Hunter shows and totally thought this place was like nestled in the bayou somewhere, away from people, to drive up the sinister factor. Nope. There's like a Speedway or Shell next door, houses down the street, not very assuming for what's supposed to be the most insanely ghosty, ghouly place in the USA. Confused. I live near Bachelor's Grove cemetery in Midlothian, Illinois (outside Chicago, and known as the second most haunted cemetery in the US) - and that place is C-R-E-E-P-Y to the max. That's back in the woods, next to a swampy lake, with empty forests surrounding it. St. Louis Cemetery was totally NOT what I had expected. I did not find it creepy at all - weirdly pretty, full of history, yes, but not the bone-chilling place Ghost Hunters had promised. Not that I really believe most of what's on Ghost Hunters anyway, but still. I wanted a spine-tingling, teeth-chattering, goosebump-inducing ghost encounter, one I could talk about for years, and left empty, on that note. I did, however, get pretty dope photos and a great history lesson. BTW - you are NOT allowed in the cemetery without a tour guide. There were too many vandals (which is sad that people would vandalize such an iconic place), forcing the cemetery to only allow tour groups in. Our tour guide was awesome, if only I could remember his name.
Some more tidbits of information - Marie Laveau, New Orleans' best-known "Voodoo Queen" (who was really a hairdresser I believe) makes an appearance here. Her tomb is at the front of the cemetery, and is probably the most famous one in there. Much like the rest of NOLA, her story is based on a mix of folklore, rumors and fact - and it's questionable whether her body is actually within that tomb or not. Either way, it draws a lot of crowds, and certainly adds to the charm and mysticism of the city. There's also drawn-on XXX symbols on a lot of the graves, which is attributed to people scratching those marks in under a voodoo-type superstition connected to Laveau.
A FAREWELL
//
The final day in NOLA consisted of last-minute shopping, packing and plane-catching. With not enough time to get into anything too involved, we took one last stroll around the city, to soak up the rest of NOLA's vibes. I grabbed one last Southern Wedding coffee (why are these not in Chicago) and off we went, to the airport. Leaving the hidden gem behind, safely tucked in and protected by the outer city's skyscrapers, I checked my camera. With more than a thousand photos on my its memory card, I knew I had a long, tiring task ahead. Hence why this post is so late, and why it's packed with so many pictures. I'm a more is better type of person.
As I'm on the plane, I unzip my jacket pocket to put my phone in. I find a small, bright blue feather. I, honest-to-goodness, have no idea how it got there. It's not even bent, wrinkled, or dirty. This was the first time I put the jacket back on since I took it off on the drive to the hotel, the first day. It held my phone on that drive, and definitely no blue feather. So -- where did this come from? Is it a gift from Marie Laveau, a bit of a French Quarter spell, a message from Southern spirits? I now keep the feather in my room, as it sits in my small gold-rimmed porcelain dish next to a stone I found at the Grand Canyon and abalone shells I picked from the beaches of Miami. I still cannot figure out how or why it got there, but it surely adds a bit of NOLA magic to my space. ✴ ☾ ♕
COPYRIGHT
Because I take all photos for my blog, the images within this post are all copyright Allison Beth Cooling for Quiet Lion Creations. If you'd like permission to use a photo, email me at allison@quietlioncreations.com
No comments:
Post a Comment