December 19, 2009 We couldn't resist St. Louis Cathedral courtyard again and made a beeline to a front row, wrought iron bench. That day, a cuban man from Miami, wearing a toque and smoking a smushed cigarette sidled up, quizzed us about the food we liked, the music we listened to, where we've travelled, then blew smoke in my face and said, "Well, I gotta go." Just like that. Tourists wore beaded necklaces strung with beads as big as tennis balls and carried drinks by the litre in weird shaped drinking vessels. A wee girl admired her pink, balloon wings. Street urchins cradled beer cans in paper bags. Just another day...
Our wanderings took us to every bookstore in the French Quarter. Sometimes we risked life and limb as we squeezed through quaking towers of books literally stacked to the ceiling with no evidence of order.
We spent a few minutes sampling the life-size gingerbread house at the Ritz Carlton.
We sauntered aimlessly for a while. Here's a common feature. We've seen these fish gush rainwater by the gallons.
Some heritage buildings have tile placards denoting the historical name of a specific street.
Not all New Orleans balconies boast pristine facades with filigree wrought iron and pretty paint jobs:
The muddy Mississippi, a local paddle boat and the Crescent City Connection a.k.a. Greater New Orleans Bridge:
More familiar Crescent City sights: Street performers and a mule and carriage.