“Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?” Remember that song? I sure do and it makes me very sad to think that the New Orleans I knew and loved will never be the same.
Last August I wrote on my “task list” in my PDA, “plan New Orleans trip.” Of course, not in August when it is so sweltering hot – some nice time – like February. But, as we all know, shortly thereafter, Katrina hit full force and much of New Orleans was gone.
My first trip to New Orleans was in the early 1980s. I went to an educational conference with my friend Ethel Rew and we stayed at the Marriott on Canal Street. I remember approaching the city with caution, for I had heard all the tales of crime. Soon I began to appreciate what a treasure New Orleans really is! We did all the touristy things and loved every minute of it. I learned that the way to avoid being a victim was not to carry a purse.
Ethel and I went back a few years later and we stayed at the Monteleone, the old style New Orleans hotel with the Carousel bar. That trip we went to the jazz festival at the fairgrounds and walked back in the steamy, May heat and it was a VERY long walk. That was the same trip we discovered the Famous Door. In those days, this Bourbon Street haunt featured New Orleans style jazz and we adored it – the bar that doubled as a stage, the strange restroom in the back, and the fighter with the cauliflower ear. Then there was Pork Chop, the elderly black man who moved from bar to bar dancing for tips. His picture probably still hangs in Maison Bourbon.
I remember another trip some years later when I was to meet Ethel and her husband Irv at a timeshare on Esplanade. Steve was to join us a few days later. Our son, David, by then in the Atari business, told me to try to look up a friend of his and one of his Atari customers. He wanted me to have my picture taken with him. The indulgent mother, I agreed. Seriously, his friend was named Aaron Neville, whom I had never heard of (of course, I have NOW). But I asked the cab driver if he knew of him, he did and knew that Neville he was out of town that week. So much for celebrity!
One year Steve and I were sitting at the dock by Jackson Square on a boat ready to take a bayou tour when fire erupted from the Jackson Brewery Building. The building was being refurbished from brewery into a shopping mall. The flames poured out of the building and I stood on the deck of the boat shooting photo after photo. Steve stayed below. What little journalist there was still in me (yes, I was a reporter for a few years) wanted to “get the story.”
Favorite restaurants --- too many to list, but here are a few. By far my favorite, is the Commander’s Palace. I love Alex Patoots, Bayonna, Ralph and Kacoos, Court of Two Sisters, the Gumbo Shop, the Coffee Pot, and, of course, Café DuMonde. Are they all alive and well?. I sure hope so.
Another time we went to New Orleans with some dear friends and my aunt. I have memories of trekking from bar to bar in search of a drink called a Puce Café. We never found it, but it was allegedly built of layers of different liquers.
I have never been there for Mardi Gras, but have been there a week or so before and had the chance to see some of the parades, including a the only parade in the French Quarter -- rather bawdy and crude, but in harmony with Bourbon Street's colorful culture.
My favorite small hotel in New Orleans is the Dauphine Orleans. I have held two events there and love this little jewel on Dauphine Street. From the bar, a part of a former brothel and its great selection of single malt Scotch, to the bright and cheery breakfast room, this little hotel is embodies the essence of New Orleans. The meeting room there was once Audubon’s studio.
One familiar stop in New Orleans is the A & P on St. Peter Street. What a great little grocery store. Sure, their selection is limited, but they have the basics. Only one brand of deodorant, Tussy cream, but it works and that is all that matters.
I wonder how my favorite little dress shop, Rosies' Stout Shop, fared. This is a small dress shop in Metarie where you can find very affordable ball gowns in women's (large sizes). The older ladies who go to all those Mardi Gras Balls have to shop somewhere -- well, this is it!
The last time I was in New Orleans was February 2004. I was with my ABWA Top Ten friends (we get together each year). I arrived a few hours early to the Dauphine Orleans. I realized I had forgotten a few things, so I headed out toward the Walgreens just a few blocks away. While I was there I bought a bright blue umbrella, as it was starting to drizzle. With my new umbrella keeping the drizzle away, I decided to take a walk. It was winter, but the weather was mild. The streets glistened with the freshly fallen rain. All of my senses came alive as I walked for many, many blocks. I knew exactly where I was, as I have a map of the French Quarter in my head. The city and I were one and it felt good. It was a magic moment – probably never to be recaptured.
Then I watched New Orleans’ destruction on the TV. How painful to watch a city you love be torn apart! Sure they say the French Quarter is OK and so is the Garden District. That’s good; those are very special places, but what about all the rest? What about those people who suffered so much? It is too horrible to fathom.
One day I’ll go back to New Orleans and stay at the Dauphine Orleans. I’ll toast the city with single malt or maybe with one of those Black Russian milk shakes from the Daiquiri Place. I’ll go to Preservation Hall again and never curse the long line or the oppressive heat. I’ll go to Café duMonde and cover myself with powdered sugar from hot beignets. I’ll stroll through Jackson Square and marvel at the street musicians, and I’ll go to Maison Bourbon and hear the jazz. If I am lucky, I will get to take another walk through the French Quarter in the February drizzle.
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