The Big Easy

N'awlins Hi y'all and greetings from the Big Easy, a town based around indulgence and excess, a binge-meisters delight. Before we get on to describing our time here though let's just go back awhile and examine the horrors of actually getting here. If you recall we were in Key West last weekend and I left you as we were boarding our bus on Sunday evening to head back to Miami. This precluded another night at The Airport Inn and Suites before the endurance test of an overnight bus to New Orleans. Sounds simple doesn't it? A bus for a hotel for a bus and voila! Not so. Things started reasonably well for what should have been a 4.5 hour journey from Key West to Miami was only 3.75 hours thanks to the lunatic driving our bus. He stuck to the plan all the way up the Keys but as soon as we hit the mainland it felt like we were extras in "Speed 2" only this time the bus would explode if we dropped below 70. It was quite terrifying to hurtle through the rainy darkness and there were odd occasions when a quick glance upfront told me we must surely be about to hit the cars in front. Whether our driver was on a promise, was hungry or just had his heavy boots on I don't know but I have rarely been more pleased to disembark from public transport. After our grotty hostel on the Keys the Airport inn, though pretty basic itself, felt like the Savoy. To be safe in the knowledge that a midnight trip to the kazi would not include the possibility of stepping onto a cockroach was delight enough but to not have to share one toilet with up to 8 other people sealed the deal. We slept well but at about 0730 we were treated to the guy in the next room hacking his guts up. If he was a smoker or merely had a predisposition to manufacture inordinate amounts of phlegm was unclear but after 20 minutes of this we put some music on to drown it out. Turning this off to go down to breakfast, we heard his hacking advance towards pain as he moaned and wailed to his wife. We went down and ate our fill of toast and bagels and 30 minutes later, as we  sat in the lobby watching the torrential rain, the fire brigade turned up bearing a stretcher. A minute or so later our neighbour was wheeled outside into the  monsoon wearing nothing but a pair of white boxers and an oxygen mask. In a jointly shocking and hilarious development the guys couldn't get the doors to the ambulance open and the patient was left prone on the stretcher, directly beneath a waterfall-like torrent which was pouring off the roof. The poor guy was half dead, virtually naked and was now being subjected to a water-based pummelling that could floor an elephant. Our journey to New Orleans would be in 3 legs: the airport to Miami West bus station, Miami to Orlando and from there to New Orleans. The first leg only took 10 minutes and even leg 2 was ok despite us being sat in front of 4 Arabs who insisted on playing Arabian music out loud and jibber jabbering loudly whilst continually kicking our seats. In her exasperation Kerry turned round and asked them to shut up which, predictably, resulted in sniggering and comments. We had an hour or so in Orlando before the final leg departed at 1830 on Monday evening so we ate the paltry fayre that was on offer at the bus station, sharing our table with a couple who were travelling all the way to Houston, the buses final destination. The lady suffered from OCD to the degree that when we first boarded the bus her and her hubby were rubbing their seats down with wet wipes and now, at the bus station canteen, they were mopping the table and the floor around them to ensure they didn't pick any germs up. The irony of course is that they ate absolute crap at every pit stop meaning that their hands were undoubtedly cleaner than their insides. These though were some of the saner individuals we encountered on this journey. On the bus we sat across from a wiry black guy who reminded us of Samuel L Jackson who was prone to offering sage words about life and the universe. Among his utterings was some drivel about not paying tax and then the classic "Man, I'm gonna ride one of these suckers all the way to California to see what shit goes down". There was "Ratboy", a chav looking lad who worked in a paper mill in New Orleans and who was the most socially adept person I've ever met, talking with ease with anyone about anything. The guy with the bull ring through his nose was a terrifying addition to our journey at Tallahassee, as was the guy with his whole bald head and face tattooed. There was the guy in the toilets at Tallahassee shaving his head who had the swastika tattooed on his chest and the "Great Unwashed", a behatted and rabbit foot toting tramp. Oh, I haven't even mentioned the 3 black guys playing gangsta rap loudly yet! No, it's too painful a memory to bring up. Travelling by Greyhound is fascinating but I don't think we'll do such a big chunk at once again. I think most affluent Americans fly, the middle classes take the train and what's left get the bus. I wouldn't have missed it, it's the type of experience that defines the trip, but I'm in no hurry to repeat it. So, Tuesday morning we get to New Orleans and first off have to get some food inside us. We indulged in a fabulous feast of fry up with maple syrup pancakes on the side and then embarked on the loooooong walk to our hotel. We decided to walk because we had time to kill but we hadn't reckoned on it being quite so far and it was searingly hot too. We set off up Tulane Ave, right at the start of that road. "What number is our hotel?" asked Kerry. "Ummmm, no 3900" says I. A whole sweaty hour later we're there and, because of the hardships of the previous night, we opted to just sit by the pool and relax. For dinner we went across the road to Bode's Catfish Shack and had catfish with cabbage and peas. Partly because we were frazzled and also because we were new in town New Orleans felt a bit unsafe so we were glad to turn in and get our heads down. Before doing so we came face to face with an absolute nutter in the foyer who was all baseball cap, tattooed face and drug-addled slurring. (Tattoos are big business over here and I have never seen so many tattooed faces in my life. Even the girl in McDonald's on the till had a tattooed face!) On Wednesday we did the full tourist thing and with a 12 hour sleep behind us we saw New Orleans for what it really is, a fabulously friendly and hip place with a slight air of danger about it. The old town, the French Quarter, Bourbon St etc, is a wonder to behold but is also so dilapidated. I'm sure it was fabulous in its day but the years have taken their toll and it can't last too much longer without serious investment. Whether there's any point making that investment is debatable though because a large proportion of the city is likely to be reclaimed by the sea within the next 40 years. In fact, with the river on one side and a massive lake on the other, plus the fact that a large proportion of the city sits below sea level, you almost have to question its very founding all those years ago by the French. The city has been devastated numerous times throughout history, most notably in 2005 by hurricane Katrina, a situation exacerbated by inadequate flood defences being in situ. On Wednesday night we set out to see some live music and settled on "Big Al Carson" at the Funky Pirate blues club. Big Al was certainly that. Super morbidly obese is probably the scientific term but what he lacked in svelteness in his probable 45 stone frame he more than made up for with his charisma and ability to sing the blues. The atmosphere in the club was electric as he belted out classics as well as little known numbers and it was an absolute delight to behold. The fact that he almost had the ladies eating out of his hand was amusing but testimony to his charisma, no doubt nurtured during a career singing with the Neville brothers (not Gary and Phil) and for royalty. Yesterday was spent similarly, doing the tourist thang y'all and soaking up as much of the Big Easy that we possibly could. Louis Armstrong park, the museum of Louisiana, the free ferry across the Mississippi to Algiers and a quick ride on the streetcar preceded possibly the highlight, a snickers ice cream. I'd almost forgotten but it had been 3 weeks since I'd had any chocolate so when Kerry suggested we get an ice cream I suddenly began slavering at the prospect. Like anything, if you're denied it then it is all the sweeter when you finally do get your hands on it and I can tell you that that snickers ice cream was simply the best experience I've had with my trousers on for many a long day. To round things off we ate at a restaurant with a balcony overlooking Bourbon st and my seafood jambalaya (oysters and prawns with spicy rice) was as heavenly as Kerry's crawfish creole seemed to be. New Orleans is an absolutely fabulous place but it's time to move on again. We've found a bargain at lastminute.com so we're now heading for 2 nights in the Hilton in Jackson Mississippi to wind down before heading to Memphis for a bit of Elvis and hopefully some more of the blues.