Last night I came home from New Orleans and in my head I came up with a million different versions of a blog post that I would diligently sit down and write for all of you. New Orleans is a town that everyone’s familiar with so it’s not like I’m going to discover Acme Seafood or Joanie on the Pony for y’all.
I don’ t have to tell you that Bourbon Street is for tourists or that the Cafe du Monde is an absolute must see. You know that music spills out onto the street and that I was there too late for crawfish season but you don’t know that I ate them anyhow, they were tiny and a lot of work but worth it.
I don’t know how I’ll tell y’all that New Orleans has a sound a spirit that cannot be replicated anywhere, that music spills onto the streets along with the scent of boiling spices and the sound of English being spoken with a very different accent.
It was a magnificent trip to a city I’d only visited once before and knew that I loved. I thought that a lifetime later the love would subside but it hasn’t and today I’m wishing I was still there. Tomorrow I’ll tell you about the plantations and being called baby and loving it. I’ll tell you about the po-boys and the strippers, the musicians and the painters. I’ll tell you about the perfume that I cannot live without and I’ll remind you why women should travel alone sometimes. That we need to recharge and that our own company is damn good company.
Also I’ll tell you that I won $400 in 90 minutes playing blackjack at Harrahs. Because I’d like to type that sentence twice.
Tomorrow. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.