I rose early, and I had written the blog the previous night, so I was free to relax for a bit. My first item for the day was the tour of the Ursine Convent, just a block away. The weather threatened to storm, so I put on a sweater and went to enVie for breakfast, a block away. This is a coffee and bar combined with breakfast, a strange mix.
As I was leaving, I told the desk that the shades had fallen and hit me, but I was not bruised. “Could you put it back up?” I asked. I was surprised that three people were at the front desk, including Britanny, whose name I could not remember in yesterday’s blog. I was given a form, typed and printed at that moment, that I was uninjured, and I signed it. No, I don’t need a copy–I know I am uninjured I said with a smile. Also, they will send maintenance to fix the shade or move me to another room. I asked them not to move me.
As I stepped out, I saw the area covered in fire engines, and the building next door had burned. I slept through that, but it explains why I kept waking up–I must have heard the commotion. The building next door is empty and for sale. We had heavy rains, so it could have been an electrical fire, but the locals told me it was more likely the homeless accidentally set the place on fire. The four engines and various other flashing light vehicles were packing up.
I found a place at the counter (or bar) and waited for my breakfast for a long time. Finally, a simple cajun sausage and cheezy grits joined my two fried eggs. I ate slowly as I was feeling off. My colon required some attention in the morning, and I had to prove hydration a surprising number of times last night. While not hungover, I felt that way after breakfast.
I walked the French Quarter to get myself focused and feeling better. The tour was at 9:45 and only offered three times a week in the morning. There were four of us for the tour. The docent was happy to explain that the building was the oldest standing in the USA, and the floating staircase was even older, having been moved from an older building, now gone, and the only example of this time of stairs in the Americas. We stayed on the first floor for the tour.
The docent told us the history of the Ursuline Convent and its associated miracles. It was a Catholic history of the area, and while the lens was through Catholic traditions, it was pretty interesting, and I felt authentic. The Ursuline nuns came from France to the French colony in the early 1720s to found a girl’s school in the wilderness. The nuns found life hard as New Orleans was more swamp than a city filled with Yellow Fever. The nuns brought over a clock and various religious statues on the ship. The clock is still there, and I heard it chime. The clock is all that remains of the Houston group that took it with them to create a girls’ school there. They all perished in the great hurricane, and the clock was found in the ruins and returned to New Orleans. I had heard a terrible story before but was surprised to see the clock here and running.
The church on the convent was rebuilt in the 1800s and, while lovely, did not impress me. It is now unconsecrated, and the nuns have moved to another place–this area is just a museum. The docent lived here when it was still in use, and it was the church used primarily by immigrants. New Orleans was often the second largest port of entry for immigration after NYC.
A bible, looking like any old dusty bible and barely protected by a plastic case, was a Gutenberg Bible! It was just set in the back, and the docent barely mentioned it. I was surprised and went to look at it. It was a plainer version but seemed fully intact and ready to use. An intact one with a clear history would sell for over $5 million.
My colon decided it needed attention, so I rushed to the Men’s Room and cleared my colon. I had waited almost too long, but I managed to get everything done without a deconsecration of my own!
I returned to the tour, and we headed to the relics. The nuns had been here for hundreds of years and collected quite a few items. I did not know the saints; Thomas I knew. I have been to the places of his burial and martyrdom in India.
With that, the tour was done, and I headed in the pouring rain, after getting another look at the bible, to the gift shop where I bought the book on the Ursuline Convent. The clerk at the store told me she lives only a few blocks away and got little sleep with the fire. She also informed me that she yells at her house to kill her as she cannot afford to fix it, and she wishes it would kill her or stop breaking. The house is hundreds of years old and has all the problems you can imagine for its age.
Jesse and Linda (my sister and her husband) arrived from Michigan, and I met them, soaked after walking two blocks in the pouring rain, as they had just arrived at Le Richelieu and waiting for their room. I changed to dry things, and they unpacked a bit. Jesse had a meeting, so Linda and head to Coop’s Place in the rain. We would face thunderstorms all day.
Linda loved the food, and the place was not complete, but more and more wet people entered. One group of 11 sat, learned that there was only one ticket per table (they wanted 11 different bills), and walked out in a huff. They were an all-white older crowd. Actually, the bartender was happy to see them go. Our food was excellent, and we ordered two everything plates, and Linda got my fried chicken. The waiter had suggested we get an extra piece and laughed when he saw I got none. I was fine; I had had some a few nights ago. We got one for Jesse and returned to the hotel stuffed with good Louisiana food.
I rested for a while and then got going again. Linda was napping, and Jesse was still working. I discovered a bookstore nearby with a search and headed out of the French Quarter to Faubourg Marigny and the famous Frenchman Street.
The sky was grey, and thunder was rolling and rumbling every few minutes. The streets were wet and puddled. I found a lovely and liberal (!) bookstore and purchased a history of New Orleans and a book of plans, drawings, and the history of the French Quarter’s historical buildings and homes.
I also found the Spotted Cat bar and listened to some more jazz. There is no cover, but you must get a drink per set played. I got a cheap canned beer and sat and listened for a while. I sent a note to Linda that I was there. The beer, the food, the walking, and the humid weather sent me back to my room.
There, I read and nodded off a few times. I had plugged my iPhone into charge and forgotten about it. When I looked at it an hour later, I soon learned that Jesse and Linda were at the Spotted Cat looking for me. Oops.
I returned to the Faubourg Marigny and found Jesse and Linda at Bamboula’s, which had food and music. Ms. Sigrid & The Zig Zags were still playing. I had heard them earlier while wandering the area but did not want another drink. These places are No Cover, but you must, at least, buy a drink a set. Linda and Jesse split a burger. I shared a giant pretzel and hot crab dip. The band was good.
We headed back to the hotel. We dressed, and I put on my suit and vest. We met in the lobby.
We head to Arnaud’s for dinner. We walked in the wet for twenty minutes, moving from the sleepy part of the French Quarter to the loud and drunk park and then to the expensive part, our target. Dinner was great, and our waiter, Jeff, was happy to serve. We found an excellent Californian wine for less, a favorite of mine, and Jesse and Linda approved it. Linda had crab cakes and a salad. Jesse had fish and a Caesar salad. I ordered their oysters, baked, in all styles. Jeff named them for me, and I enjoyed it. I never know which one is which, but this allowed me to try all the styles of baked oysters. Excellent. I had the duck and shared a veggie with Linda and Jesse, a local treasure: Stuffed Mirliton. This is a local, and I have only read about them. It was a cross between a melon and a squash. Again, happy to learn and taste new things in New Orleans.
Jeff, our waiter, took us, the place was packed and then cleared out to the museum and then a tour of the banquet room. Before Katrina, Jeff had served in the banquet rooms and was obviously proud of the place. He has just recently returned, having left New Orleans as a refuge from the storm, and only recently returned now that his kids are grown. The late owner was the queen more than twenty times, and her and her husband’s costumes were displayed. It gave you a sense of the 1960s Mardi Gras.
Linda and Jesse took an Uber back to the hotel. It was raining lightly. I walked back and stopped at one place to listen to an accordion band. I did not finish the required drink in the No Cover place, but I thought they were fun.
I returned, and a pretty girl offered to let me take her home. I was demurred, but I was happy. At least it was a girl this time.
Tired, wet, full, and happy, I found Tyler at the hotel desk. We chatted for a bit, and then I headed to 317. I hung my damp clothing on hangers in my huge closet. I went to bed and slept most of the night.
Thanks for reading.
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