The hubby and I spent the last ten days in New Orleans, Louisiana. This trip marked a bunch of firsts for Oscar and I.
I've been to New Orleans quite a few times always as a Crohns suffering, rectal incontinent woman. I won't go into details of the serious lack of washrooms in the French Quarter or how if you do find one, it is usually a single room for every person in the establishment. Not a great feeling when your in the middle of lunch with 200 other people and the urge strikes. It's ugly but does prove that us Canadians can and will get nasty if need be.
This year we decided to go for 10 days over our anniversary which is on Halloween. We couldn't think of a better place to be then in the city we love and originally visited on our honeymoon 3 years ago. We also decided to dress up and really have fun with the holiday. We went as a Pan Am stewardess and Pilot (top pic is of me and a samari on Bourbon St, 2nd pict is of the hubby and I on Saturday night in full regalia at The Old Absinthe House with a glass of absinthe in front of us) complete with flipped hair and flight bags. I'm not sure if any of you have been to NOLA on Halloween, Bourbon St/Frenchman St. in particular, but the costumes are outrageous, phenomenal and put the best special effects artist to shame. Imagine our surprise when all we heard was "Pan Am! Pan Am!" and were constantly stopped and asked to have our pictures taken. We would slowly make our way up Bourbon and either be stopped or it would rain beads from the balconies, gifts from appreciative revelers. We never did see another Pan Am pilot/stewardess on Saturday or Monday night. The strangest part of the evenings? I didn't go to the washroom once. Lots of drinking ensued but I could care less if I was in Laffitte's or in the Old Absinthe House. The washroom situation just didn't faze me.
I also realized I could eat everything. And I did. Shrimp Po-Boys (I'm an expert at these!) crawfish, sautéed crab claws, huge breakfasts from either Ihop or Deja Vu, Muffaletta (gross unless you like olives) and alligator. Yup, alligator. Little pieces of fried goodness that taste like chicken of the swamp. As I sit here on the plane ride home, my mouth is watering just thinking of alligator.
Now, as most of you know, I have a very inquisitive mind (how many pouches HAVE Oscar and I contributed to the landfills?!?) and was wondering where, exactly do these morsels of deliciousness come from? The obvious answer, the swamp. I of course was not content to just accept that fact but decided I needed to see for myself. My hubby, our friend Ben and I booked ourselves on a swamp/airboat tour for the next day.
We found ourselves being greeted by a man who seemed to be speaking some sort of bastardized English/Mumbo Jumbo. He was a born and bred Cajun who I am sure poured on the accent to scare the tourists. It worked. We threw caution to the wind, with a quick pat to make sure Oscar would be ok, and climbed aboard an airboat. Our destination? The swamp.
To be continued.....