Saturday 19th October 2019

It is the weekend.

And weekends here are mostly given over to football. Saturday its college football, and on Sunday its the NFL. And it would be easy to fond a bar and sit there, drinking cheap and crap beer, watching half a dozen screens at the same time. But we're in The Big Easy, we'd better be do something better.

Jetlag is a thing of last week, so we were awake at seven, bright eyed and bushy tailed, and needing breakfast.

It was going to be hot. Damn hot. 86 degrees in the afternoon. Shame then that we had arranged a walking tour, meaning we would be out in the midday and afternoon sun. What could go wrong?

After getting dressed, we walk down Canal to the Palace for breakfast, but it don't open until half ten at weekends. So, back to the hotel for breakfast there, not quite as good, and more expensive, but it is food.

We never will like biscuits and gravy, there is a huge pot of grey-coloured gloop bubbling away. We pass up on that, but links, bacon, homestyle potatoes and eggs over medium were good. And coffee.

We eat in the luxurious surroundings of the Bourbon House, where in twelve hours we would have dinner. But that was later. Much later.

We laze in the room until 11, when we walk through the French Quarter so Jools could find a bead shop. Before then, we ended up watching football on TV. Proper football. Tottenham scored a lucky late equaliser against Watford, and Norwich drew 1-1 against Bournemouth for our first away point of the year.

Yay.

We had arranged a walking tour around the Garden District, with a walk round the local cemetery, but to meet the tour, we had to meet at a place well out of the centre of town. Google suggested it was 1.4 miles. Our feet suggested it was longer.

Starting from the middle of French Quarter, we walk to Canal Street, then over to the start of St Charles Avenue, which if my calculations were correct, we would stay on all the way.

St Charles started off going through the commercial area, past hotels and former banks. It was hot, and there was little shade.

We walk past a blues and bbq festival, which we say we'll visit on the way back, cos if we go now, we'd never leave. One we go, beside a trolley route that was not in use, until we came to a huge roundabout, rotary, with our way straight ahead, under a flyover.

Beyond, two tram tracks lead off, and as we climb past the monument on the rotary, I can see a line of four vintage trams, trolleycars, rattling up the grass covered tracks Quite a sight.

But none going our way.

So, we tighten our belts and walk westward, past the urban sprawl of a modern American city. Soon, the surrounding area gets greener, there was a fine old hotel on the other side. Our destination was at 2800, we were at 1800, a thousand properties to walk by, possibly.

In the end, not so, but we do arrive at Gracious Bakery by half one, all hot and bothered. We sit inside and order a snack, and have an iced drink.

Many others arrive, as several tours start from here, so in twenty minutes, roll calls were made, and people allocated to guides. We join DJ's group.

Just up from the cafe was the cemetery, but the bad news was told, that due to vandalism by locals and especially tourists, the cemetery was now closed, and would probably never open again to the public, due to thefts from the tombs.

Gutted does not cover it, as it was this part why we booked, now all we could do was look in from the locked gates, I took a couple of shots.

Tombs are above ground, as the water table is a few inches below ground level, so it has the fell of Montmartre in Paris Or would have if we could have gone inside.

Instead we walk back and forth of the garden district, a residential area dating back to the 1830s, made of a hotchpotch of styles, white painted fronts of columns and wrought iron supports to balconies and galleries. Our guide tells us history of each house, or those interesting ones. The Americans on the tour are only interesting in which houses famous people have lived in. A house has no interest to them, but once they find Nicholas Cage had lived here, they take lots of pictures.

It was hot and humid, even after a bar stop. I have a severe case of balcony fatigue, and the last half an hour was more than a chore.

But it wound up, we tipped DJ, and we walked to St James. The few trams that were running were rammed with people, so our plan was to walk to the historic Pontchartrain Hotel.

But a predator had spotted us, and moved in for the kill.

A taxi pulled up beside us, we would have flagged it down anyways. We tell him to take us to the hotel. He does.

The cab had no air con, but with the windows open, travelling at 30mph gave a nice breeze.

Traffic in the centre was heavy, but he got us within walking distance of the hotel. We got out and walked the last 100 yards.

On the way we bought some iced OJ, walked to the room and turned the AC down to minimum and the fans to max.

Bliss.

That evening, we went to the restaurant in the hotel, the Bourbon House for dinner.

I order and demolish crab cakes followed by tasting seafood platter. It was divine.

I mean food that was out of this world. We had a wine waiter and a food waiter. The wine waiter suggested a bourbon I try for desert, and it too was good.

It was half eight, early, and yet we were pooped. We go back to our room to think about what to do, and we end up falling asleep.

Another good day.