The Life in Your Years


"And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years" - Abraham Lincoln



Sunday, February 26, 2012

NOLA. Wow.


New Orleans is a place I've always wanted to experience. Photos of the quaint Southern patios lined with ferns and flowers appeared to create an ambience unlike any other in the US. Rich with history, the city was founded by the French in 1718, ruled briefly by the Spanish in the late 18th Century and sold to the United States by Napoleon in the Louisiana Purchase in 1803.
Staying in the business/warehouse district, the first thing to notice is the detail of the buildings. Each is ornate in its own way still calling the grand history of the area. In some places you can see where time has taken its toll like this dilapidated building with only a front facing the street.

With a short walk to the French Quarter crossing Common Street, the buildings are more provincial offering patios with rocking chairs alive with greenery. It's obvious when you're near the party scene - distant drum beats, shrieks and shouting, and a distinct smell like the morning after where one may be inclined to drink an opened, half drunk can of beer just to wet the palette. Yet looking up through the ruckus on Bourbon Street you can see the gorgeous molding around the large, crystal chandelier. Pre-neon signs and plastic cups it seems that this dingy place once carried some class despite being a port city marched through by men long away from a woman's scent and feel.

Common Street Car

Iberville Street is crowded with neon signs enticing excitable street folk to come on in. Many are easily sold given the obvious void of intimidation powered by the city's extremely large and cheap cocktails, which are carried around in place of the ubiquitous plastic water bottle.

Festive masks line the wall on one of many shops selling Mardi Gras gear.

I have to be honest. I didn't know what to expect. This famed Bourbon party street is far more squalid than I had imagined. It's more like a third world Vegas except the main drag is lined with sleazy strip joints and venues offering "Live Sex Shows". It is close to what I imagine a Red Light District in Bangkok or New Dehli to be like. Maybe it's in the wake of Marti Gras, I don't know, but things appear to be far out of control constantly. It's a haven for some. One man's treasure is another's trash. This place is not my treasure.
I took a step back at this one (while pulling out the lens, but too many people went walking through for a clear shot). This silly ho came out of her "Ho-le" to shake her stuff for everyone right on Bourbon Street. Where is Dollar Bill at?! He needs to get some control over his girls. When the bouncer returned he shoo'ed her bare ass away. Honey, you only get one dollar when they come in...save your sales skills for the inside.

Desire and debauchery are a big piece of New Orleans. Drinks and slippery aphrodisiacs guide the way.

Still the architecture gives so much character to the well beaten-up streets.

Parade participants marched the porch-lined streets and beads were tossed for fun and tatas. Still the remnants and odor linger on the Southern streets. Can't imagine how this place feels in the dead of summer dripping with Fratboy "Gone Wild" stench.

It's a Mardi Gras tree!

Perusing through the streets lit with the day's light, the Southern charm is exuded in the firn lined porches and colorful homes. The evenings: well they are a site to be seen - once. While I enjoyed the culture, my only reason for going back again will be for the outstanding food. More details on the grub here!

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