Cravin' the Cajun

To continue our city adventures, we left Austin early in the morning for the long drive to the city of saints. A quick note about interstates in Louisiana, you can be driving along when all the sudden you realize the interstate has become an island in the midst of a bayou, with no solid ground apparent in any direction. That’s how we knew we’d reached Louisiana.

 

New Orleans was the only place where we opted to stay in a hostel, mostly because it was the cheapest lodging we could find with easy access to the French quarter. The India House it was called, a repurposed mansion once owned by a wealthy oil prospector. In typical hostel fashion, it had been eclectically redecorated, with tons of artwork painted on the walls and graffiti notes put up by the guests. To top it all off, Taj (short for Taj Mahal), the hostel cat, was languidly lounging on the front steps to greet us. Our room was in a shack out back, (this is not completely unsurprising for a hostel), that sort of made us feel like we were staying in the bayou or something. After the Wyndham experience, the India House was a little disconcerting, mostly because we were sleeping in a shack. I thought for sure we’d be plagued by bed bugs or worse, and the rowdy nature of hosteling meant we didn’t get the best sleep, but hey, it’s all a part of the New Orleans experience.

After checking into our interesting lodging, we escaped to find what we were most excited about in New Orleans – authentic Cajun food. We found a little local spot not far from the hostel where the menu quickly made it apparent we were indeed in the south.

Can you count how many times the word "fried" appears?

The waiters brought out steaming plates of food to the tables surrounding us, and Ryan and I were surprised to realize that we didn’t recognize much of anything coming out of the kitchens. It all seemed to be smothered in some kind of sauce and fried, which left a big question mark as to what the fried/smothered item was. The menu wasn’t a ton of help, since we couldn’t pronounce much of what was on there. With the waiter’s help, we settled on gumbo and fried soft-shell crab.

Hmmm what to do with the crab leg...

Then came the question of how we ate the food in front of us. For instance, the gumbo came with a large crab claw floating in it. Is it soft-shelled? Do we eat the whole thing? Do we crack it open? Or is it just garnish? By the time we’d finished our main course, we felt like we were back in Argentina – “what did we just eat?”

All we know is that it was delicious, and fully satisfied with our first Cajun meal, we caught the cable car and headed down to the river to check out the French quarter.

 

It wasn’t hard to find Bourbon Street, and as Ryan and I customarily do, we chose to simply walk around and people watch, rather than partake in a “hand grenade” or some other fancy alcoholic beverage the bars were trumpeting. Many of the restaurants had live music, and one club in particular had an awesome jazz band that sounded like I always imagined New Orleans would sound, but it was packed full so Ryan and I could only listen briefly outside. Bourbon Street also reminded me very much of my one experience in Amsterdam, when I happened upon the red light district. Prostitution in the quarter seemed more out-in-the-open than in Vegas, and I found it quite adorable how adamant Ryan was to keep his eyes downcast and his cheeks bright red with each girl who called out to him. I’ve got a keeper, yes I do!

During our stroll, we came across an intersection where people dressed in Halloween costumes were preparing for a parade and a host of security personal were corralling onlooking tourists away from the scene. Turns out the new show NCIS: New Orleans was shooting their Halloween episode on location in the quarter. We got to watch a scene being shot between two of the main characters, plus the parade scene. Pretty cool!

A blurry picture of the main characters

After spending the night in the shack, the next morning we were up early to return to the French Quarter and complete our sampling of New Orlean’s cuisine. We had beignets from Café Du Monde, which to me seemed like a combination of sopapilla and funnel cake. They were so covered in powdered sugar that sitting on the breezy bank of the Mississippi created a snowstorm effect of powdered sugar. I was downwind of Ryan, so I quickly became covered in snowflakes of powdered sugar. Yum!

After “breakfast” we walked around the quarter a bit more, with the St. Louis cathedral being the highlight.

Then it was off for more food, this time a Po-Boy from Johnny’s. I got the traditional shrimp Po-Boy and Ryan got blackened chicken. The crisp French bread plus tomato, lettuce, and unidentifiable delicious sauce made for a sandwich that hardly seemed “poor.”

Unfortunately that was all the time we had in New Orleans, so we missed out on Jambalaya and crawdads, and all the other unidentifiable dishes we noticed. In reality, New Orleans felt the closest to traveling outside the U.S. as we had yet experienced. The way people talk, the food, the old buildings and the history of the place felt like were in a different country entirely at times. We really enjoyed the unique culture of the city though, and hope to visit again with more time to sightsee soon!