NOLA

To check out a map of our Delta drive travel route, go here:

http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&source=embed&msa=0&msid=115398075535804411901.000494a2ebf2a94403083&ll=31.334871,-90.043945&spn=9.582333,9.206543&z=6

Our arrival into NOLA went off with a bang, as should be expected when your hotel is located at the corner of Canal and Bourbon Street. Hit and run, mom's rental car was wrecked on the back end. With all the traffic backed up, I actually ran after the woman--who was likely drunk--and verbally berated her while she pretended it didn't happen and refused to look at me through her open window. Mom's nerves were frazzled by the time the police report and calls to the insurance and rental car companies were completed. Time to enjoy drinks in the back courtyard of Napoleon's, a local hotspot in the French Quarter known for their Pimm's Cup: gin, tonic and cucumber, yum! Just what the doctor ordered.

I was attending Sea Grant Week, during which the communicators had a service project--plant Spartina grasses along the edge of Big Lake in NOLA's City Park to reduce shoreline erosion. In most parts of the country, this plant is considered an invasive species, taking over and choking out native vegetation. But down there, it's an important local plant with good root structure to hold the soil in place.

Tools of the trade: you dig a little wedge in the muck, stick the plant roots in and then push the wedge back in the muck nearby to tuck the plant in place.

On the left: the Spartina we just planted sparsely. On the right: Spartina planted one year ago. Check out how quickly it grows in!

Afterward, we ambled around the sculpture garden.

Had an alligator sausage po'boy--"all dressed"--for lunch. A little greasy and chewy, but at the time I was glad I tried it. However, it's pretty horrific hearing about their methods of capturing the alligators for their meat. This was probably the last time I will eat this creature due to intense guilt.

Later that evening, joined up with some friends and checked out a number of local haunts: The Port of Call for a monsoon and baked potato, jazz at the Spotted Cat, beignets at Cafe du Monde (open 24 hours). This city truly never sleeps. Ear plugs are a necessity if you want to catch some shuteye, even at 4 a.m.

Between the conference presentations and forgetting my camera at the hotel, I am lacking photos of the French Quarter. Rest assured, I explored the area for hours, enjoying the music: cajun, zydeco, jazz, blues, folk, even some bluegrass/old time on the streets. Old bookshops, back alleyways, open air markets, window shopping, watching how the locals live.

The garden district of the city is lovely and bursting at the seams with huge, immaculate homes. Kristen and mom drove me out there so we could enjoy a little walk together.

Amazing ironwork!

Gorgeous old cemeteries!

This city is in a beautiful state of permanent decay, enriched with history, steeped in myth, and yet people always think of dirty Bourbon Street, the only place I've ever seen that requires street cleaning--with soap!!--each morning.

Wonder what that's doing to the waterways every day. But if you've smelled Bourbon Street and tried not to step in the mystery liquid puddles, you'll agree that the soap is necessary. But it's never lacking in interesting people and activities.
The Budweiser clydesdales, along with their dalmation, stopped by too.

One last little tidbit: we stumbled upon what seemed to be amateur night at some blues club. Oh man. If you can imagine the intersection of William Shatner and Elvis, you'll arrive at Ready Teddy: The Swamp Daddy. My jaw was actually agape. I am having technical difficulties uploading the videos (they are looooong, which is the problem), so please stand by for a random post sometime later highlighting this dude and his acrobatics!