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 Well,
I never made it to the pool. Beth and I again started the day by walking down
to the waterfront area and joining Arch and Viv at Café Du Monde. Beth was
very good, but the Biegnets were calling to me and I succumbed and gobbled
one down with a cup of decaf coffee. We then did some shopping at the famed
French Market where Archer had what I found to be a somewhat humorous
conversation with one of the shop proprietors.
Arch: Wow, things here are really expensive.
Proprietor: Welcome to New Orleans.
Arch: I'm from New York City and I thought the prices were high there.
Proprietor: Amateurs.
 Arch
also managed to stop traffic as he stood in the middle of the street to get a
picture of the statue of Joan of Arc that was presented to New Orleans as a
gift from France. We again covered an incredible amount of territory walking
throughout the French Quarter. I wasn't exactly paying attention when we
ducked into a spot on Chartre Street for lunch and didn't notice its name
until I checked out the wall and realized that every picture was of Napoleon
Bonaparte. When I asked what the deal was, Beth informed me that we were
dining at Napoleon's (duh!). It turns out the building was secured in
the nineteenth century to be Bonaparte's residence in exile after his defeat
at Waterloo. However, he died before making the trip to the States. So, of
course, it is now a classic French Quarter bar. Very New Orleans. I naturally
tried their Pimm's cup and while it had the requisite cucumber, the base
seemed to have some sort of orangeade overlay. Interesting, but not quite to
my taste. We split a full Muffaletta four ways and it was more than enough. I
think Arch has found a new food love in this culinary mad city.
 Although
our time was limited, we decided next to walk to the western edge of the
French Quarter and take a Streetcar (not named Desire) to the Garden
District, the upper-class residential portion of the old "American
sector." Visually and historically, its mansions are a world away from
the French Quarter. Because our time was limited we got off the streetcar (a
wonderfully inexpensive way to see this area by the way) and walked back to
the elegantly appoint residence, The Columns. While I busily snapped photos
of the incredible Victorian Lounge, Arch struck up a conversation with the
current owner of the establishment, Josh Creppel. The Columns was the site of
the Louis Malle motion picture "Pretty Baby." Arch had known Malle
and proceeded to swap theatrical war stories with the Creppel who mentioned
that just a few years ago, Susan Sarandon had surprised him by just walking
unannounced through the door to reminisce. She said the place looked much
larger and Creppel pointed out the Malle had inserted a false ceiling
throughout the hotel during filming. After the film completed, the residence
was actually scheduled for demolition until Creppel stepped in to save it.
Thank goodness. If you're ever in the neighborhood, treat yourself to a drink
in the Victorian Lounge. -- you won't regret it. We're definitely going to
try to take in a walking tour of the Garden District before departing.
 After
resting up, we were picked up by Jim C., the husband of Viv's best friend
from school, Blanche. Isn't it just perfect that someone named Blanche would
end up in New Orleans? Jim drove us to his and Blanche's apartment out on
Esplanade -- just a few minutes north of the Quarter. We tried to recall when
we had last seen each other with Blanche guessing it was at our wedding. But
it turns out that Jim and Blanche had visited Arch and Viv after that and, we
think (no one was positive) that the four of them drove up to see Beth
perform in a Jerome Kern revue in Woodstock, NY.
At any rate, after hors d'oeuvres, we piled into the car and Jim drove us to
his favorite restaurant in the CBD called Bon Ton. The restaurant was
directly across the street from the business from which Jim. At 89 years old,
Jim was just a delight. Yes, I was a little apprehensive having the entire
family in the car with him at the wheel, but he is still an excellent driver
and maneuvered the tiny streets with aplomb. Jim had worked for years for
W.R. Grace company and I engaged him in conversation about the book (and
later John Travolta movie), A Civil Action, based on an environmental
lawsuit brought against Grace in upstate New York. I was suddenly struck at
how much this extremely conservative, courtly gentleman reminded me both
physically in manner of my dear mentor, Fred Stewart. There was no way to
explain to him what Fred had meant to me, but it brought a smile to my face
just to engage in lovely conversation with him. Jim was correct about Bon
Ton, it is a lovely restaurant, but probably doesn't merit a full review
here.
 After
dinner, Jim kindly dropped us at the famous Preservation Hall. A sort of
living-history jazz music museum, its unpresupposing entrance just off
Bourbon Street can easily be missed were it not for the clutch of humanity
trying to gain entrance. With a $5.00 cover charge, the interior is
shockingly small holding at most 30 persons either seated on the floor in
directly in front of the band or standing in the rear. Arch and Beth
pretzelled themselves in down front while Viv and I hung out in the back. The
music, provided by The Preservation Hall Band cannot actually be said to be
first quality jazz as they trudge through the compulsory New Orleans
blues/jazz classics. Perhaps they were exhausted by the New Orleans Jazz
& Heritage Festival that ended last week. The bandleader was constantly
complaining and mumbling about the overhead fan that was causing him
hoarseness. Hand painted signs on the walls note that requests are $2.00,
special requests $5.00 and if you want the war-horse When the Saints Go
Marchin' In, it'll cost you ten bucks.
Viv and Arch decided to turn in as Beth and I continued into the night by
walking down crazed Bourbon Street eventually making our way into Patout's
where we sampled our first Hurricane. I know there's liquor in this
drink, but it tastes of cherry juice mixed with Hawaiian punch and I quickly
switched to the local Arita beer. Patout's could quickly become a favorite of
mine if they current band, The Recycled Cajuns, performed every night.
A true Zydeko group with a rocking accordion beat, they invite members of the
audience to jump up and join in. Beth naturally volunteered and was handed a
washboard vest and a couple of spoons and danced her way through a few Zydeko
classics receiving a nice round of applause from the faithful. Though the
members were born in Lousiana, the group claimed to have their roots in
Newfoundland in Canada, which is only fitting, as this was the birthplace of
the original Cajuns who migrated south and landed in New Orleans.
Tomorrow: I meet an Alligator in the swamp.
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