I have always dreamed of coming here. Of all the places in the United States this place has so much rich history. It is formative in the birth of blues music, was central to much of the slave trade, surrounded by cotton plantations, defied prohibition, and has Spanish and French roots. And so we are here.

We wake up and have the lovely experience of cooking breakfast for ourselves. It has certainly been awhile since this happened and is a pleasure to do. We have a kitchen in our airbnb and we shopped for groceries at Rousse’s market just down the street last night so we are all set.  I fry eggs, pan fry mushrooms and yellow peppers, and make toast. Rudy brews some coffee and I make a delicious Earl Grey tea (the first of the trip) with milk and honey. It is just the way I like it.  We sit on the front porch in the sun and enjoy our food.

Then it is off on our adventure. But first we need to do our good deed for the day. Yesterday, on a walk in the neighbourhood I found a lanyard with keys and ID card for a grade 6 kid at a local school. We located the school and made the 20 minute walk there. At the door we had to buzz in through the metal covered doors and speak to the security guard on the intercom. He let me in and gladly received the keys and let me know he would make sure that they got to the young man. Wow. That was a first time experience with the security at an American school. Certainly a chilling reminder about gun violence.

After this we grab the bus and proceed downtown. Rudy has researched how the bus passes work and buys them  from the driver. Our passes are for unlimited travel for a 24 hour period are cheap. Mine is 3 dollars for the day. Rudy’s, due to his advanced age, is only 80 cents. He also gets to sit at the front of the bus due to being “a persona de edad avanzado”. I make sure that he is able to negotiate his walker to the elderly persons seating area and we head to the French Quarter. In some ways like a different version of Nashville. It has tacky souvenir shops with Mardi Gras masks and beads, restaurants with local cuisine,and  bars with stages for bands to play on. It is fairly quiet during the day but we do see some street musicians. For lunch we share on variety plate (or bowls in this case) of gumbo (chicken and andouille sausage, duck and andouille sausage and shrimp and andouille sausage).  We dump in Louisiana hot sauce and enjoy. By midafternoon Rudy is ready to go back to the airbnb for a break. I have a craving to wander a bit more myself. I stop at a coffee shop and order some beignets. They are a French donut drowning in icing sugar. I deem them okay. I sit for a while and just enjoy the people walking by. It is nice to be alone as I don’t have to think about whether a chosen activity is good for Rudy as well. With this in mind I decide to pop into some shops. The souvenir shops are just what I expect and do nothing for me so I look for something different. A place named Trashy Diva catches my eye. It is a modern vintage place where the designer has clothes in a wide range of sizes based on styles from the 1800s to 1960. This is not the usual beige linen wear that is the norm in most  touristy places. The fabrics are wild and colourful and rich, many of the natural fabrics or blends. The drop and flow of the fabric is fabulous. I imagine that if I was rich enough that I would buy some of these outfits for myself and the woman I love. I can sink into this imaginary world and don’t have to worry about Rudy standing somewhat patiently outside the entrance wondering whether I am purchasing anything and why it is taken so long. On reappearing outside he might ask where my purchase is. If Rudy wants something he buys it and doesn’t dilly dally. But buying  is not the purpose of these in-store visits. It is a trip into a land of colours and textures and patterns. It’s a journey into the imagination. So no, I didn’t actually purchase anything with money. But yah, I bought something. I bought an experience, an excursion into possibilities and worlds and experiences. This priceless experience didn’t cost a thing.

I catch the bus back by myself and relax for an hour or so before Rudy and I head out for an evening on the town. We catch a bus on a different route only a block from our place. What a win. Even in this short time we are getting our bearings.

The French Quarter is hopping. We end up on Bourbon Street and it is crazy. Even though it is Monday night, loads of streets are blocked off to traffic and people stream down the streets from bar to eating place. Music is blaring out of many of the places. It is louder and grittier than Nashville. Jazz and Rock are blaring onto the street. We stop at a place that offers food and I get a shrimp Poboy (sandwich) and Rudy gets some Jambalaya. While we sit, the band (2 old guys), strike up a tune. One gentleman plays trumpet and does vocals and the other one is on the keyboard. It is lovely in so many ways. They may have a playlist but it seems that one song just melts into the next. The singer starts into a song (maybe just some woo hahs) and within a few bars the pianist joins in. How does the pianist know which key the song is in and even which song it is? But they improvise and slide on into what they are doing. A few lines of singing and then the vocalist grabs his trumpet and it starts to sing. This music probably isn’t anything I would choose from my music library but, because it is live, I totally enjoy it.

We walk the length of the street stopping at the doorways of various bars listening to the music. One place is a piano bar and we enjoy a number of familiar tunes like Benny and the Jets and I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues. Although the music was great, it was a bit of a juggling act. A young handsome man who was probably hired to bring people into the venue gyrated in and out of the venue, making advances into the crowd. I keep myself small and try to avoid his attention. I imagine Rudy is feeling much like me as he has shuffled off to the side away from the doorway. I half hope that Rudy will be singled out so I can see him get down and boogie. Luckily some other old people (and young ones as well) are targeted and we just get to enjoy the tunes. The next bar we stop at has a 5 piece band. It is energetic and I love it and so we get get our ID checked and go in. They are playing loads of great familiar stuff and lots of people are dancing and singing on the floor in front of the band. A so enjoy a number of the band members but soon we decide we should catch our bus back to our place. It’s a short ride home and it feels so easy. We arrive home satisfied with all the days activities.