Laissez les bons temps rouler. So goes the motto of New Orleans, a city feted as the birthplace of jazz, famed for its Mardi Gras festivities, the historic French quarter, Creole and Cajun cuisine, beignets, pralines, voodoo, crawfish - and home to the current Superbowl champions. We thought that The Big Easy sounded like a suitable destination for an Easter getaway and arrived at Louis Armstrong airport on Good Friday afternoon. We located our lovely B&B which was situated midway between the French Quarter and the New Orleans Museum of Art, strolled into town, admired the architecture, dodged the legions of tourist-filled horse-drawn carriages, found a delightful little restaurant which opened early and feasted on Creole shrimp and Crawfish Etouffe. (We now understand why restaurants open at 5pm - this had always been a mystery for us before having Alex).
On Saturday morning we took a guided walking tour of the French Quarter. In addition to providing a crash-course in the history of Louisiana, our over-sized guide was keen to tell us all the best places in town to sample the local delicacies. He helpfully explained the difference between Creole and Cajun cuisine - something to do with the 'roux' base, I believe. Our only previous exposure to Louisianan cuisine was attending a Backyard Crawfish Boil last year in D.C. - which had led us to expect great things from New Orleans. The Creole and Cajan food that we sampled was indeed absolutely delicious, but the Po-boys and Muffuletta were definitely over-rated, being basically big sandwiches dripping with olive oil.
The legacy of Hurricane Katrina still lingers in New Orleans and many events in the city seem to be dated as pre- and post-Katrina. Our (white) guide told us he had lost his house, his job and his marriage as a result of the hurricane and knew many, many people who had fled the city and not yet returned. The visible destruction was not at all evident in the tourist centre of the city as the French Quarter escaped the worst of the flooding, but this belies the enormity of the impact: Katrina was the US's costliest hurricane, the broken levees constitute the worst engineering disaster in history of the US, over 80% of the city was under water at the height of the disaster. The statistics are shocking: 1 million evacuees, 20,000 seeking refuge in the Superbowl, 1464 deaths. Five years on, the city is recovering, although there are still areas of the city, notably the Lower Ninth Ward, where damaged buildings remain uninhabitable and occupancy of entire neighbourhoods is painfully low.
Despite its difficult recent past, New Orleans certainly lives up to its reputation as a party town. Sadly, I say this not from personal experience - young Alex preferred to spend his evenings snoozing in his travel crib rather than jiving in jazz clubs - but because the only other people we spotted out and about before noon on Saturday or Sunday either had young children, were pensioners or alcoholics. The streets had a certain morning-after-the-night-before fragrance, a delicate aroma comprising eau de vomi, disinfectant and urine that I haven't smelt since I last entered a College bar.
We made it into the city by 11am on Easter Day, just in time for me to snag my standing-room-only spot for the Easter Day service in the St. Louis Cathedral, the oldest cathedral in America, having been founded in 1720. I can at least report that the mass was well-attended. From the odd glimpse I could catch whilst stood on tiptoes at the very back of the cathedral, the basilica looked beautiful and the Easter bonnets were suitably striking - people really did go to town on their festive outfits. Other highlights of the weekend included a tour of the stunning mansions in the Garden District and browsing the permanent collection of the New Orleans Museum of Art, where we admired the Turner that had been lent by the Indianapolis Museum of Art as a result of a bet on the outcome of the Superbowl final and coveted the festive Fabergé Easter Eggs.
And then, the highlight of the trip: the French Quarter Easter Day parade - a mini Mardi Gras, without the drunken students. As far as we could understand, the idea was to encourage the revellers on the passing floats to throw as many free gifts our way as possible, before standing directly in front of anyone trying to take photos. Having Alex with us was an absolute winner - he ended up festooned in strings of coloured beads, clutching two teddy bears, an oriental fan and a box of chocolate bunnies. The poor little chap had no idea what was happening, but provided much entertainment for his parents. The costumes on the floats were pretty impressive - and the Easter hats almost as flamboyant as those I'd seen at the Easter service earlier. What fun. Laissez les bons temps rouler indeed.
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