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Topic Overload!
I really needed this vacation.
Dozen of topics for musing came up over the last week, and I hardly know where to start. On the other hand, this office has such a pervading aura of demotivation that I suddenly find myself feeling sluggish and not really wanting to write that much. I do want to get something out here before traipsing out to California Wednesday night, though, so I'll compromise, and give you at least something on each of my promised topics.
Debauchery:
I'm not normally a heavy partier. I'm definitely not normally a consumer of sickeningly sweet brightly-colored alcoholic slushies with names like "Blue Crack". I'm not usually willing to sing karaoke, certainly not for songs to which I'm sure I'm forgotten the tune. But hey, it was New Orleans. The bar called "Ye Olde Dungeon" or something like that had pretty interesting decor, but the fact that most of the clientele was wearing shorts and T-shirts ruined the atmosphere entirely.
And I love exotic dancers. I like the athleticism of some of them; I really like the parts where they climb poles in the middle of the stage. We couldn't get into one of the big famous bars, as unescorted women weren't allowed. This disturbed me, somehow. I'm not sure if they were afraid Julia and I would be soliciting, or if they were just trying to maintain the gentlemens' club atmosphere, or if they didn't want imperfect women on the premises, or they didn't want the dancers distracted by cute dykes, or what. So we found a small bar which had women who were actually not skeletal dancing. I was particularly tickled to see one dancer who wore glasses. I like the geek look, when it comes down to it.
I got hit on a lot, something to which I'm not all that accustomed. I'm not sure if it was me or the women walking in front of me who got asked, "Hey, what magazine did *you* fall out of?" Maybe that would make a good Internet poll. I figure I fell out of either Cat Fancy or the Journal of Irreproducible Results.
The fact that the hotel room had heavy curtains which blocked all light was probably fortunate.
Overeating: Indeed. Oysters galore, both in po'boys and in more sophisticated Oysters Rockefeller kind of things. A visit to one of Emiril's restaurants, which was nice but overpriced. A muffaletta, which although I don't actually like olives, was good in context. Bread pudding, for which I've got a terrible weakness. Beignets, twice. A visit to the scale tells me I put on 7 pounds over the course of the week. Yeek.
Saxophones: Lots of music in the streets, something which I find incredibly appealing. The obligatory visit to Preservation Hall, as well as a visit to a jazz club just outside the quarter which amplified the music only to a reasonable volume. I don't see enough live music locally. I need to remember to make the effort.
Voodoo: Not much on this topic. Marie Laveau's shop consisted mainly of scary warnings that tourists had better not photograph the altars or touch anything, but was not otherwise interesting. I wasn't really interested enough to search out anything more authentic. On a more Western magical traditions note I attempted to visit the Buckland Museum of Witchcraft and Magick, which supposedly still has a large collection of the personal effects of Doreen Valiente and other historically interesting stuff. It was closed every time I checked, morning, evening, and night, though the people in the nearby witch shops had no idea why.
The most supernatural experience I had was not getting lost walking to my hotel any of the nights we were there, and actually giving correct directions to a few other tourists.
Alligator-wrasslin: An airboat tour around some of the Louisiana swamps was definitely a tour highlight. I didn't personally wrassle any, but I watched them get fed marshmallows. I ate some alligator jerky, too. There were lots of heads in all of the tourist shops, with red glass beads in the eye sockets. I found this vaguely depressing.
There. I feel like I've done my journaling duty.
Dozen of topics for musing came up over the last week, and I hardly know where to start. On the other hand, this office has such a pervading aura of demotivation that I suddenly find myself feeling sluggish and not really wanting to write that much. I do want to get something out here before traipsing out to California Wednesday night, though, so I'll compromise, and give you at least something on each of my promised topics.
Debauchery:
I'm not normally a heavy partier. I'm definitely not normally a consumer of sickeningly sweet brightly-colored alcoholic slushies with names like "Blue Crack". I'm not usually willing to sing karaoke, certainly not for songs to which I'm sure I'm forgotten the tune. But hey, it was New Orleans. The bar called "Ye Olde Dungeon" or something like that had pretty interesting decor, but the fact that most of the clientele was wearing shorts and T-shirts ruined the atmosphere entirely.
And I love exotic dancers. I like the athleticism of some of them; I really like the parts where they climb poles in the middle of the stage. We couldn't get into one of the big famous bars, as unescorted women weren't allowed. This disturbed me, somehow. I'm not sure if they were afraid Julia and I would be soliciting, or if they were just trying to maintain the gentlemens' club atmosphere, or if they didn't want imperfect women on the premises, or they didn't want the dancers distracted by cute dykes, or what. So we found a small bar which had women who were actually not skeletal dancing. I was particularly tickled to see one dancer who wore glasses. I like the geek look, when it comes down to it.
I got hit on a lot, something to which I'm not all that accustomed. I'm not sure if it was me or the women walking in front of me who got asked, "Hey, what magazine did *you* fall out of?" Maybe that would make a good Internet poll. I figure I fell out of either Cat Fancy or the Journal of Irreproducible Results.
The fact that the hotel room had heavy curtains which blocked all light was probably fortunate.
Overeating: Indeed. Oysters galore, both in po'boys and in more sophisticated Oysters Rockefeller kind of things. A visit to one of Emiril's restaurants, which was nice but overpriced. A muffaletta, which although I don't actually like olives, was good in context. Bread pudding, for which I've got a terrible weakness. Beignets, twice. A visit to the scale tells me I put on 7 pounds over the course of the week. Yeek.
Saxophones: Lots of music in the streets, something which I find incredibly appealing. The obligatory visit to Preservation Hall, as well as a visit to a jazz club just outside the quarter which amplified the music only to a reasonable volume. I don't see enough live music locally. I need to remember to make the effort.
Voodoo: Not much on this topic. Marie Laveau's shop consisted mainly of scary warnings that tourists had better not photograph the altars or touch anything, but was not otherwise interesting. I wasn't really interested enough to search out anything more authentic. On a more Western magical traditions note I attempted to visit the Buckland Museum of Witchcraft and Magick, which supposedly still has a large collection of the personal effects of Doreen Valiente and other historically interesting stuff. It was closed every time I checked, morning, evening, and night, though the people in the nearby witch shops had no idea why.
The most supernatural experience I had was not getting lost walking to my hotel any of the nights we were there, and actually giving correct directions to a few other tourists.
Alligator-wrasslin: An airboat tour around some of the Louisiana swamps was definitely a tour highlight. I didn't personally wrassle any, but I watched them get fed marshmallows. I ate some alligator jerky, too. There were lots of heads in all of the tourist shops, with red glass beads in the eye sockets. I found this vaguely depressing.
There. I feel like I've done my journaling duty.
Cajun Country
Trickster