Observations

Walking thru New Orleans on a crisp November morning I take a moment to look around me. Allow me to share some observations...

It's 60 degrees and everyone is bundled up like they are preparing for the next snowpocalypse. I'm in shirt sleeves and feeling the briskness of the morning, and perhaps could have used a long sleeve t-shirt because of the breeze but it's a beautiful morning and my walk is keeping me warm. Despite the "cold" the locals are friendly and still take a moment to say good morning. Yes, as I walk down the street, perfect strangers take a moment out of their day to say hello and share a smile. How do I know they are locals? They are heading to work with tools in hand, be it a hammer or wrench or a guitar case or an uncased 'bone. They are standing outside Verdi Marte waiting on a ride clutching a cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette. Do I look like a local? I am not wearing thousands of dollars of camera gear or the ubiquitous Cafe du Monde shopping bag, nor am I wearing beads in November. Perhaps.

As I head downriver, out of the Quarter into the Foburg Marigny, I note that the sidewalks, made of brick, are lopsided and uneven. I have to dodge the large trash cans that dot the street, but marvel over how clean everything is. Who 'dat signs and Christmas lights compete for attention with still blooming flowers and the remarkable bright colors of the shotgun houses that face the street. I refuse to compare the neighborhood to what I would see back home; New Orleans is a land all to itself and without compare. To do so would be an insult.

Breakfast at The Ruby Slipper in the Marigny was a delight. Not just the food (which was above reproach) but also the atmosphere and the attentive staff. The building had been a bank, and the folks at The Ruby Slipper have done it up right.  It is a large, high ceiling open area with table place at a respectable distance from each other. The iron bank vault bars are is still intact in one corner and make a small dining area as well. The windows, which must be a story up, are covered with billowy sheer curtains that allow beautiful natural light but protect from the glare. Definitely a place I could see "working from home" at.

After my morning repass I wander further thru the Marigny. Frenchman Street is a flury of activity at night, but early on a week day morning all is quiet and serene. Locals still say hi as I wander pass. I peek in the windows of d.b.a. and Three Muses and The Maison to see who is playing this week. Kermit Ruffin and his BBQ Swingers are playing in Friday. Put THAT on the schedule!

Frenchman Street spits me back into the Quarter by the Old US Mint which then gently guides me to the French Market. The flea market vendors are just setting up for the day and I walk past beads and masks and sunglasses and t-shirts. The voices are of friends greeting each other good morning in languages I do not understand. Strange smells come from the food containers they are eating from and I wish I could just stop and sample a bite. The food portion of the Market is also just coming awake and I know in just a few hours will be buzzing with tourists looking for a place to wander and locals looking to buy something for tonight's dinner. 

As I leave the French Market, I see the soap suds in the streets and smell the uncharacteristically clean smell of the Quarter. Yes, it can smell quite rank around here, but in the morning, it smells like Tide and sunshine. Cafe du Monde calls my name. Three beignets, a 6oz cup of cafe au lait and a 4oz glass of water are a tradition to my visits. This trip a sparrow came and joined me at my table, getting his sugar buzz on by snatching up errant bits of powdered sugar. He doesn't stay long, but he made me smile none the less. There is a trumpet player behind me impressing the tourists with his long sustained notes. He is always here and I wonder how that works. With literally thousands of street musicians in this fair city, do they bid on the prime spots? Is it an agreement with the business owner? First come, first served? A respect issue with the seasoned performers? Maybe one day I will ask. 

All of these observations in a matter of 2 hours. New Orleans gives me time to be, to observe, and to enjoy the mundane.