I did get some sleep, but I was in bed late, and I woke a few times from noise or something. Sunday is the quieter day of the weekend, but there were still some folks with loud music or car engines. I woke minutes before my 6 a.m. alarm, and five minutes later, it blew me out of the comfortable sleep that had overtaken me. I got up, only to find that another ten minutes had disappeared while I sat on the bed. I think I slept sitting up.
I made coffee from the industrial coffee available in the room. I was mostly packed, but I completed the packing. At one point, my knees were on the case as I zipped it closed, and once again, I am happy with the overpriced luggage that I have used since I needed a roller bag with a suit holder.
I showered and dressed after finishing most of the blog. I had breakfast with Donna and Dondrea at 8:30, and I could finish afterward. As I dressed, I discovered I had no pants. Yes, after all the work of closing the case, my pants were all inside. Ugh! I reversed much of the previous process and retrieved my pants.
Dressed, less packed, I left my room at Le Richelieu Hotel and headed down to the lobby. There, I met Dondrea and Donna and learned that Donna’s flight was delayed (she would get to Salt Lake City, but the aircraft had been changed and her seat was moved to the very back). We picked an easy walk around the block to Envie Espresso Bar & Cafe for breakfast. All the tables were taken, it was cold, and nobody was sitting outside.
Creole Breakfast for Dondrea and me, and our new experience of boudin. This is a local sausage-like product that uses rice and cooked pork. Sort of a burrito sausage with Creole spices. Cheesy grits were nearly perfect, and the biscuit was excellent. Donna had the Traditional Breakfast but was unhappy with the bacon; Donna wants lightly cooked bacon, not crispy. Coffee was in large cups. It was an excellent way to say goodbye to our self-directed tour and enter the next part of the trip.
Donna was soon whisked away in a taxi after we spent another hour packing (or repacking in my case) and writing and publishing the blog. We checked out, and Dondrea arranged a cab to get us to the new hotel, The Hyatt Centric French Quarter, in the reused Holmes Department Store (story here), on the edge of the Quarter. It was a $12 ride, but it was cold and windy, and it was too far to roll bags.
We got our new rooms, and soon I was thinking Le Richelieu Hotel was a better choice. But this was a new area for me, and I should not grumble. This is not the place for balconies. Soon, Dondrea and I met again, now just down to us as others were wandering in various areas, and headed to Sazurac House, as I always wanted to try this place.
We enjoyed the small free mixed drink that, when combined—three small cups—was enough to make me feel it! Their version of a Sazurac was good. We also enjoyed their other beverages, especially the rum ones. A surprise to us. We slowly walked through the three-story museum, or really, an ode to New Orleans mixed drinks. I got a few small gifts, and Dondrea tried to get one of the hard-to-get items in Oregon.
Next, we stopped at Hard Rock Cafe NOLA and, for $30, shared a salad and some Diet Cokes. But we got some quiet and something veggie to eat. It was good to unwind for a while.
Our tour with Telos started at 3 in a conference room, and soon we met the other folks on the tour. Our seven from our church is outnumbered about 4-1 by the South Bend church, but they are a friendly group. Our leader, DeSean, described some of the emotions he thinks we might experience. I have in my notes words like “be faithful to the encounter,” “power to confront injustice,” “balance to show up,” “worked trip for us as a sacred journey and not another group,” and “encounter tension as another as a problem to solve. No.”
We were then asked, “How are you arriving?” and “What hopes do you have for the times together?” Each of us answers the questions after introducing ourselves. I had sat close to the front to hear better, and was first (and had to be reminded to introduce myself). The answers varied, and folks’ backgrounds and expectations were more varied than I expected. The theme of learning and confronting injustice seemed to be one I thought repeated most.
From DeSean, I heard more words that I wrote down: “Being present is important…Legitimize to humanity.. .The world is wide enough…it is the nature of language…trying to say something to not offend is not going to be the solution…Education as liberation (is political), but not natural.”
I avoid telling other people’s stories, dear reader, as you know from this blog. I will just cover my experience and expectations. It was good to hear what others felt, but they will not repeat it here.
We then walked quite a ways back through the Quarter to Congo Square, just outside the Quarter and the old city limits. Here, as I had learned before, was where the enslaved people could meet, dance, trade, and connect. Many say jazz was born here, as people combined sounds to create new music.
On my previous trips, I had read and heard these stories. Please see the links if you are interested.
Our group was already behind schedule, and the park closes at 6. It was already getting dark, the wind bitter, and the temperature dropping. The walking tour of Louis Armstrong Park was rushed, but moving fast kept our guides on subject and us warmer. Half the group did the tour while the other did drumming and dancing in Congo Square, echoing back to the past.
My dancing before the brain tumor surgery was not great, especially rhythmic dancing. I try, but it is hard for me, and my balance issues make it even more difficult. I have to keep my eyes level, as my vision must follow the horizon to provide my only reference for my body’s position. Actually, I was always terrible, but now it is worse.
My drumming wasn’t terrible. We got to switch from dancing to drumming. But I was also trying to watch the dancing and learn what was happening, but that meant my drumming would get worse. I tried to be part of the sound and the feeling, to follow the lead of both, and to be a witness to the singing and dancing. While not entirely successful.
We tried to leave the park, but we got called back to hear some more thoughts, and then called out as it was closing, and dinner was awaiting us. We then walked a long distance, nearly split into two groups, and for a moment, we almost went our own ways. We managed to reassemble and reach Domenica without any losses.
We were in uptown or the warehouse district (it was dark, and I did not know this area), and soon we were headed through the kitchen (the staff banged pans and trays as we marched by, as a welcome) to the private dining area set up for us.
(not ‘chilled money brains,’ or “brains” in your best zombie voice, or Excalibur ala Domenica, but cauliflower roasted served with whipped feta cheese with olive oil)
The food was lovely, and Dondrea got a few recipes from the kitchen for some of the best lighter courses. We chatted and ate, with me buying the wine for the table (food, but not wine or drinks, are covered). We were getting to know the folks from South Bend, and I was happy to find them moderate to liberal and friendly. There were multiple courses served over a few hours. We had a mishap: all the chicken was gone because we realized there was only one set per table. But nobody was hungry or disappointed.
We walked back to the hotel, and after some Christmas Eve church business in Beaverton was covered, we all headed up to our rooms. I was soon writing this blog and texting Dondrea as we both worked into the late evening, encouraging each other.
Thanks for reading! We start again at 8.
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