We ended Sunday listening to a woman sing ballads, with too much drum and plenty of keyboard, at the BMC around the corner from our hotel. My watch warned me it was too loud — something that would happen all night — and with her last notes (with a musical kufuffle as the song tried to end a few times, but one of the players just went on), we left, and Linda (my sister), Jesse (her husband), and I returned to the hotel. There, just before Sunday ended, I climbed into bed with music, food, and my room over-AC’d, and it all sent me to sleep.
Before that, we stopped at various places for music and more food on Frenchman’s Street outside the Quarter. While it showed many signs of too many tourists, the giggles of screaming girls (my plural invention) and gangs of guys expensively dressed do not migrate to this street. The music ranged from their own concoction of jazz, like we heard at the only show we bought at Snug Harbor, Kim Prevost & Bill Solley with Amina Figerova, to old rock and hilly-billy rock at another Bamboula’s, to screaming mixes of all at 30°90°.
(BMC still in Quarter but on the line)
(30°90° on Frenchman Street)
(Snug Harbor, a pre-purchased ticket, but grab a seat fast as those are up for grabs)
(Bamboula bouncing non-stop energy)
At Snug Harbor, there is always a mad dash for seats. You line up before the doors open and get what you get. I snagged the last two good seats, and Linda and Jesse found a good view behind me. The tables are in twos, and I gave the spare (Linda and Jesse together) to a local, Rebecca, and we enjoyed the show together.
30°90° starts with the last set of a slow, familiar mix of old rock and rockabilly. I get appetizers, and the bartender tells me, “Best of luck; it is a new menu,” and he has no idea what is good. Bartenders are very honest here when it is about the food (they want that tip). Linda and Jesse find me; I send out my location, and they find me, but walk past, and I and the security welcome them back (Security love to do something besides sit there and nod people in, sometimes checking IDs, but the early people like me have mostly grey hair and are “looking through windows,” as the song says. We then enjoy Frenchman Street.
I also purchased from the bookstore; theme of the day for me. This was my third bookstore, the Frenchman Bookstore. There, you must use hand sanitizer before touching a book. If you take a photo of a book to order elsewhere, they charge $1. Seriously. I found a copy of a book I almost bought earlier, but this one is signed. I missed the signing yesterday here. I also got a book recommended by a local author on above-ground local burial processes here, written, it says, with scholarship by a tour guide who became curious whether the “facts” they were using on the tours were real. This book is to set the record straight and, according to the author, is a manual for those who, excuse this, want to dig deeper into the subject (you do not dig here, of course).
Before our cooler night travels, we were baked on the Quarter’s streets. We took an Uber to Arnaud’s for brunch, with me slipping in for breakfast at Envie, a few blocks away, before sharing that with Linda and Jeese the 1/2 I brought back. Breakfast at Envie was nice: coffee, grits (I ate all of that), too much omelet, and a biscuit I saved (and took to Linda and Jesse). There are better, more local foods, but nothing closer or easier.
Back at Arnaud’s, I wore a tie, sweater, dress shirt, and dress shoes. Jesse wore a collared shirt (the requirement), and Linda dressed up but comfortably. The food and old-school setting were fun. The food was perfect, and we had a server, a waiter, and a ‘D,’ as shown on his name tag. I had veal with Linda, and Jesse tried versions of crab (Arnaud’s locally sourced crab cakes are known as the best). Linda and I got to watch our server burn up some rum for Banana Foster.
We split up after brunch, and I found books at Crescent and Beckham and paid $10 for shipping on some excellent finds. Jeffery at Crescent remembered me, and we chatted for a while, and he was happy to ship for me. Beckham didn’t remember me, but we still enjoyed a chat while I shipped my books. I stopped by the New Orleans School of Cooking for a spice for Dondrea (the black lid version). Linda, Jesse, and I met after they finished their carriage tour. Linda was overheating, and we got back to the hotel via a more direct route. Naps followed.
That covers yesterday.
I talked to Deborah all through the day. It was a quiet day for her, and it was good to share a bit of NOLA with her. I missed her with the music; we danced in Iceland to oldie rock. I also connected with Dondrea a few times, as the church started the Revival today (planned after my plans for this trip, so I missed the start). Pastor Ken was out due to family matters, and Dondrea found herself serving as organizer and preacher for the Revival Kick-off.
I found General Hood’s burial place, the same Confederate General as Franklin. I will try to get out there to complete the circle of this trip. Thanks for reading!
Alohawild (Michael Wild's) Website 