


Before I start this post I'm going to preface it by telling my Australian readers how to pronounce New Orleans like a local; say “new OR-luns”. But, like, barely pronounce the 'u'. “new ORl-ns.” Alternatively you could run it all together like a true Southerner and say "nawwlins." That's better. Americans give you weird looks if you say it phonetically.
So after I slept through my boarding call in the Las Vegas airport I bought another flight to New Orleans which arrived six hours later because I had a stop over in Minneapolis. You'd better believe I'm never sleeping in an airport again. I get off the plane now and head straight for the nearest cafe to inject myself with caffeine, no matter how little sleep I've had. Actually, I've noticed that drinking stacks of water is also good. And cheaper/free. Although, somewhat infuriating to bare for longer than fifteen minutes.
My couch surfing hosts, Lauren and Adam, picked me up from the airport even though I said I was happy to get a bus/taxi so that was awesome. It's been so long since I've been driven around (well...the road trip to the Canyon, and Sutton drove us to the markets in Portland. Whatever). New Orleans is a super cool city but it's fucking hot and humid which is a major negative in my books. It totally fits with the atmosphere of the place though. People are out at night drinking (street drinking is legal) and dancing to jazz bands in the street.
Lauren and Adam are engaged to be married in October and are relatively new to couch surfing. Still, they welcomed me into their home like pro's. Lauren had lived all over the place but came back to NOLA (New Orleans, LouisianA) because “it's cool the say that's where you're from.” Adam is from north Michigan and occasionally pronounced words like a Canadian much to everyone's entertainment. They have three dogs; a Pitbull puppy called Dante, a Chihuahua called Kona and a Pickinese called Simba. You can see why I chose to stay with them, yes? Serafin's hybrid cat/dog, Luke, was one thing but actual dogs! THREE dogs! I was in heaven. I'm normally not a fan of small dogs but Simba and Kona were really affectionate and just wanted to be smothered with love which I was obviously happy to do. Kona slept in my bed two of the nights I was there. Naawww.
We had a drink and I stripped off several layers before they took me to Cafe du Monde, a major tousist attraction in the French Quarter, late that night. It was a big outdoor cafe that served beignets and cafe au lait. A beignet is a French pastry covered in icing sugar that you dip in the coffee. It was gooooood.
I woke up early in the morning, scratching my hand like mad, but didn't think much of it and went back to sleep. I woke up with more itchy spots but still thought "whatever."
Thursday morning Lauren took me out (Adam had work) to see the French Quarter by day and have a muffaletta. A muffaletta is large round loaf of bread filled with gourmet meats, cheese and a pickled olives/capsicum mix. It was delicious.
We went back to the car to discover that our frozen pina coladas had defrosted nicely in the sun. It's not legal to have open containers in the car, but it's not strict, according to Lauren. Although some people do get caught driving under the influence and have to have a breathaliser to start their car.
We drove around sipping and chatting while Lauren stopped every now again to chase up job applications at cafe's and bars. We went back home to escape the heat, agreeing to go out at night to see a band play when it was cooler. When I found myself still scratching several red marks on my arms and legs I asked Lauren if her dogs had fleas, as Kona and slept under the covers with me the night before. She said she used to give them medication but they kept scratching so she stopped. It wasn't exactly the answer I was looking for, but still, didn't think much of it. Lauren and Adam made BBQ pork (over the coals so it was smokey and delicious) and a squash/zucchini cheese bake/lasagne for dinner. Man, home cooked meals are amazing.
A few neighbours came over for drinks and chats after dinner. The band was apparently not playing, so we didn't go out.
On Friday Lauren and Adam both had work so I took myself exploring. I waited for the bus in the sweltering heat for approximately 47 minutes (somewhat exaggerated) before I headed back to the house, googled the directions and walked to the French Quarter. It wasn't too bad. I constantly told myself that I walked way further and way more often in this heat and humidity (and worse) when I was in Japan but I wished I had Bionic Man (my friend, Pat) to encourage me along. I caught the street car with all the tourists and wondered up Bourbon St which is this gross/trashy tourist attraction filled with bars and souvenir shops. I walked all the way up the street to Port of Call, a burger place that a friend from Portland had told me about. Actually, Sutton drunkenly wrote me a list of things to do on a used envelope on my last night in Portland. Most of them were food related, which I was totally cool with.
The view I had while waiting for the bus. Lauren and Adam's duplex is behind the tree on the left. I wish I took more photos of the houses because they all look really cool/colourful/dilapidated.
I had a hamburger, which sounds really boring but the meat was cooked to perfection (medium rare) and delicious. I asked for the bill after ordering a cocktail to go (how cool is that you can do that?) only to find that my credit card was declined. The bartender tried again and then asked me if I was from another state and that maybe my bank had reported strange activity and frozen it. So under his suggestion I went outside to call TCF and inquire. No strange activity; I had run out of money. I looked through the window into the busy bar and thought about my unpaid bill.
It's still unpaid.
Walking the dozen or so blocks back to Lauren and Adam's house I was flipping out. I thought I was going to have to stay in New Orleans until my visa ran out (in four years) selling useless shit on streets until I was deported.
Oh, side note that I forgot to add in the San Francisco post. I saw a guy begging on the streets with a sign that said "I bet you a dollar you will read this." People were walking past laughing and he was going "Hey! C'moooon! You read it! You owe me a dollar!" Best sign ever. I don't think he made much money, though.
So I got back to their house and the dogs went ballistic at the sound of someone being home. They were kept in those travel cages while everyone was out so they didn't destroy the house. Dante had gotten into the trash (and my toiletries) the day before when he was allowed to roam free unsupervised. I let them out and without realising, Dante had had explosive diarrhea which he was now spreading through the house in his excitement. I texted Lauren to let her know that he was probably sick (we think he had eaten butter or grease that was in rubbish) and started cleaning it up and then washed Dante in the shower (lucky me, right?). Kona freaked out and hid under their bed so I thought I had lost him as well. Which made little to no sense as the back and front door were closed before I let the dogs out. Eventually I enticed him out with love.
I sat around nervously waiting for Mum/Dad to call back and for the real shit storm to start.
To be continued, for I must sleep now. Sam and I are going on a mini trip tomorrow and I keep getting made fun of for sleeping 'til 11am.