One of the greatest joys of travel for me is the people.  As we were out walking the next day we heard, “I’ve got okra; I’ve got peaches” being sung over a loudspeaker in a colorful truck.  I thought it was the coolest thing ever!  I loved everything about it:  fresh fruits and vegetables delivered right to you, his catchy tune with his deep base voice, and the produce pickup painted so groovy.  Burk loved it too and it became sort of our theme song for the rest of our time in New Orleans.  One of us would start under our breath and the other would do the next line.  We would keep adding food until we ran out of things to think up and then grin at each other before starting over again.  We sang it on the little streetcar we took down through the Garden District.  From the heat and cement of Bourbon Street in the French Quarter to the shaded tree-lined Canal Street with rows of old Southern mansions, we sang Mr. Okra’s jingle from one end of town to the other.  Then we stopped and got out so I could take pictures of the prettiest fence I have ever seen.  The whole thing was verdigris wrought iron made to look like endless stalks of corn rising up out the the ground.  It was made all the more enchanting by the fragrant wisteria that wound itself in and out of the metal rows.  I found myself wishing we could have bought from Mr. Okra as the day wore on.  Again another resolution to begin carrying a little cash.  Actor Damian Lewis said, “People need revelation, and then they need resolution.”  New Orleans had given me both.

Mama and Daddy were not big drinkers, but Mama always kept her Hurricane glass from Pat O’Brien’s they got on their honeymoon.  Growing up I’d look at it and it seemed so exotic.  So I was excited to visit the same place they went all those years ago.  I suspected it had not changed much.  Burk and I are not really bar people but for some reason we both really liked this place.  No techno music was blaring and, to my husband’s delight, they offered free, unlimited bags of cheese popcorn.  They may have lost money on him.  Of course I ordered a Hurricane and kept the glass.  It now lives next to Mama and Daddy’s and they both look pretty much the same even after over four decades.  We sat outside by this fountain called “Fire and Ice” because of its mix of water and flames which was really cool.  It felt Parisian in the sense that the place was small with a certain intimacy and had a courtyard with no blaring TVs.  Inside it was dark without feeling gritty.  We had a fun time.  With the hubs sufficiently “filled” I decided to take him antique shopping in the good stores by our hotel.  We went in one place that carried more Limoges than I’d seen in Paris.  I did not go crazy but I did get an old brass fox door knocker which I love.  Since we have wolf hybrids as pets I gravitate toward any wolves and coyotes or foxes which are their cousins.  Ironically, we may have purchased it at a store called The Brass Monkey.  I cannot recall.  But I love taking pictures of historical markers and other placards I find interesting, including one I snapped of an old, rusted metal sign by the New Orleans police department which read, “Beware of Pickpockets and Loose Women”.  Walking to dinner we encountered a guy who stopped us and asked our names.  Burk was simply intent upon reaching Arnaud’s.  I told him our first names and he immediately launched into a rap.  My normally good natured husband was becoming silently agitated as this guy was literally standing between him and dinner.  Finally Burk just hollered, “Baby Doll let’s go; I’m hungry!” as I smiled and tried to look apologetic.  I had no idea he expected money for his rap.  It reminded me of taking Elmo’s picture the year before in New York and not knowing we were supposed to tip.  The rapper was clever and outgoing, working to make some money and not asking for a handout.  Burk would have tipped him I know; we just never carried cash on trips except to leave to the porters and maids.  I promised myself from that moment on we would never be without a small amount of extra cash.  The last thing I heard as Burk was yanking me by the hand moving us steadily toward the restaurant was, “Laura, Laura; she so sweet.  But she gots to go ’cause Burk gotta eat.”

We started the day by heading out to the world famous Cafe du Monde for their coffee and beignets.  This is where I became hooked on chicory in my coffee and to this day it is all we drink at home.  The original stand was established in 1862 in the New Orleans French Market.  It is open 24 hours a day seven days a week and only closes on Christmas Day or if a hurricane passes too close according to their website.  The beignets reminded me a lot of Indian fry bread and I did not know the Choctaw people had been in Louisiana for so long!  This was a huge and wonderfully unexpected surprise for me.  My Grandmother was Choctaw and of course I knew Nanih Waiya (sacred ground) in Mississippi.  They were the first nation to get removed in the Trail of Tears to what was then Indian Territory (now Oklahoma).  I knew a century later many had been pushed off that land and “encouraged” to settle in big cities like Dallas.  But I never knew how far my people went back in what is now New Orleans.  Next we visited Jackson Square and the St. Louis Cathedral.  Dedicated to St. Louis of France and founded in 1720, it is the oldest Catholic cathedral in continual use in the United States.  Adjacent is the Cabildo which was once the seat of colonial government and is now a museum.  It was the site of the Louisiana Purchase transfer ceremonies in 1803.  On our honeymoon I asked Burk if we could have our portraits made at Montmartre and he reluctantly agreed.  On our first wedding anniversary I asked for another.  Burk says he looks like a serial killer in our Paris one and that he looks 12 from the one in New York.  To my delight there was a wonderful portrait artist right on the square.  I intensely dislike caricatures so I try to find more talented artists that are able to sketch more realistically.  I asked Burk if we could try again here.  The third cajoling was not as easy.  This was a woman who worked in colored chalk and drew us separately so Burk was free to roam while I sat up straight and prayed this one would turn out.  He was quite happy until I called him back for his sitting.  She was a true hippie from the 60’s who had actually studied art.  To say that my husband is reserved and conservative would be an understatement.  I remember he did not want the maid to see his feet on our honeymoon.  So while I was happily strolling the square our portrait artist proceeded to regale my poor husband with stories of all her past lovers.  I knew something was wrong when I went back to check on him and his face was beet red.  Knowing it could not bode well, I set out to find him food.  Hot food goes a long way with him.  And that is when I discovered another wonderful surprise:  you can walk around with alcohol!  Just walk the streets enjoying a drink!  It was lovely … and a lifesaver.  I pressed a giant beer into his hand along with a huge hot po’boy and scampered off before he could rebel.  He sat for so long I brought him another beer while I heard snippets of “and then there was Jean Claude …”  By the time he was released from the woman’s clutches he looked both relieved and murderous.  For the record she HAS made the best portrait of us to date.  Irish playwright Oscar Wilde said, “Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.”  We left the square as the afternoon shadows began to lengthen; both pleased with our portrait … and happy that it was done.

It was our second year wedding anniversary and we chose to go to New Orleans, Louisiana.  Since our honeymoon was in Paris and we went to Quebec for our one year anniversary, I thought this would be in keeping with my love of visiting French places.  My mother-in-law joked by the next year we’d be in Paris, Texas.  Little did I know, no one knows any French in New Orleans; the one exception of course being the infamous phrase, “Laissez les bons temps rouler” (Let the good times roll).  But there are wonderful reminders of France all over the city, from Chartres street to the ever-present fleur-de-lis, and St. Louis to Orleans itself named after the Duke of Orleans.  He reigned as Regent for Louis XV from 1715 to 1723 and the city was “established” by French colonists who strongly influenced it by their culture.  During the American Revolutionary War New Orleans was an important port for smuggling aid to the rebels and for transporting military equipment and supplies up the Mississippi River.  Napoleon sold Louisiana (New France) to the United States in 1803.  As a native Texan who grew up under the “Six Flags of Texas” it was always something of a bragging right.  Imagine my complete surprise to discover Louisiana has flown under ELEVEN flags as well as having been an independent nation like Texas!  I was as fascinated as I was impressed by their lack of un-Texan braggadocio.  My folks went to New Orleans on their honeymoon so that also made it special for me.  Usually we are pretty intense and frankly do not relax enough on trips.  Burk and I were staying at the Hotel Monteleone which was established in 1866.  It boasts the famous Carousel Bar, which actually revolves and is covered with lights and painted just like a traditional carousel.  One can see the famed Royal Street in the heart of the French Quarter from behind a huge set of windows as the bar slowly rotates.  After settling in we strolled just steps down to the Mississippi River where we took a steamboat dinner cruise.  Confession:  I am allergic to seafood and I detest that “ya da da da da” type jazz.  That’s pretty much what I associated with New Orleans before this other than booze.  We sat outside the historic boat on the old, white wooden top deck savoring drinks while a live jazz band played.  They were really good and it was a sultry evening with a light breeze coming off the water.  For once we were not rushed and I was happy and relaxed sitting there next to my handsome husband.  It was one of the most memorable evenings of my life.  The food was great (plenty for a vegetarian), then afterward we got to tour the steamship which was fascinating.  And that was all we did our first day!  We simply slowed down and enjoyed life in the moment.  American author Mandy Hale said, “You will get there when you are meant to get there and not one moment sooner … so relax, breathe, and be patient.”  Our trip up and down the river was pleasingly slow and we were able to actually see the scenery as we were passing by.  The steam rose high above us while the water churned the big red paddle wheel below us and the night sky began to glisten with stars.  This trip would hold a lot of pleasant surprises for me.  But the Big Easy forced me to take it easy in order for me to discover them.