Day 17 - Creole Japes on the Mississippi Delta

We slept off our strategically weakened hangovers the morning after our night of deadly signature cocktails, so did not emerge from the hotel until about midday. The weather was back to its regular sunny heat as the storm and humidity had blown out of town. We made our way to the French Market Place in search of some interesting food and perhaps the odd bargain. Our walk took us down to the riverside where our breezy stroll was interrupted by a crazy-man hustler. After accosting and barricading us, he presented us with several questions like some kind of toothless Creole sphinx. After we 'fell' for his flimsy riddles and cheap word play, the man then proceeded to his pièce de résistance - the shining of the sneakers (naturally?). We were all wearing flip-flops, so when he bent down and squirted liquid soap around the rim of my footwear, I felt we'd had enough. He was pretty cheesed off that we didn't give him a tip for his masterful street show, but we persevered in our resolve and he gave up his pursuit rather quickly.

Shaking off the extraordinary encounter, we left the riverwalk and cut into the streets, where we came out to the market area directly. As we asked questions to no one in particular, a helpful passer by pointed us in the direction of the proper market, as opposed to the tourist-targeted shops. Situated in a French-style market hall, the first stand to our left had exactly what we were looking for: gator on a stick.

It was tasty enough, though not what we had been expecting, nor perhaps what we needed at that particular moment during the hangover-recovery . The meat had obviously been processed into a sausage, but actually tasted very similar to a spiced pork sausage as well. Either way, it fulfilled its novel and functional purpose. A neat tick could now be scrawled next to alligator meat. We bought some fruit from a cheap stall near the entrance and went into the market proper. Stalls of expected trinkets were everywhere and were stocked plentifully. The more interesting items included alligator heads, real and fake, and 'Road Trip' T-shirts, sleeved and sleeveless. Jan was tempted.

Upon finishing the browse, and finding that nothing really took our fancy, we roamed back toward the main market area. We dipped in and out of touristy shops, finding some more T-shirts with expletives and lame puns, as well as the cocktail mix for the Hurricane drink we had had the previous night. There was also a shop dedicated entirely to Christmas! Hard to imagine a white 25th of December on this sweltering Louisiana day.

Jan can't believe it

Heading back toward the main avenues without much of a plan, we took a gander on the Louisiana State Museum. The exhibitions on offer were Mardi Gras and Hurricane Katrina, but embarrassingly we were more deterred by the $6 entry fee. Ain't nobody got time for unsponsored museum visits, apparently. As a result, we didn't find out much about New Orleans historically. But a cursory internet research and a delve into the deepest recesses of my middle school education does inform me that the city was founded in 1718 by a French trading company and ceded to the Spanish Empire in 1763, with the Treaty of Paris.

In 1801, the French retook control of the port city, but only for two years, when it was sold to the United States as part of the Louisiana Purchase, the sale of a vast portion of land occupying roughly a third of the area of the modern USA, which was overseen by President Thomas Jefferson. The city consequently has a large Spanish and French influence in terms of culture and architecture. The term 'Creole' was originally used in reference to people to designate those who were of French or Spanish decent that had been born in the colony as opposed to the old world. It's good positioning at the mouth of the Mississippi then made sure it became a major city of the American South, especially in the Atlantic slave trade. Interestingly, during the American Civil War, New Orleans was spared much of the destruction that ravaged other cities in the South because it was captured very early on by the Union.

Louisiana State Museum (right)

Court of Justice

We headed back to the hotel for a brief break and arranged to meet Andy again before going to a park for a throw of the Nerf. Joe brought along his newly bought leather-bound pillow souvenir American football too, which took some time to get used to throwing. It was a fun hour, though the searing heat made sure our walk home was served with a side of sodden vest.

Statue of King Louis at the park

Before we sweated oceans throwing and catching; vest-tacular

We walked home and planned our evening affairs. Residual Hurricane hangover and the prospect of the longest drive of the trip the following day hampered our desire for another bender, so we chose a local restaurant called Huck Finn's that served New Orleans cuisine. The menu featured local signature food like po-boy sandwiches, Louis Armstrong's personal favourite dish red beans and rice, and jambalaya - a sort of creole paella. I had the latter, which was a yummy mix of rice, beans, chicken, and andouille sausage.

It was a great meal overall. Andy tried some alligator, in the form of diced grilled cubes, and Joe eventually got his hands on some fried oyster, in a po-boy sandwich. Jannick ordered something non-regional and therefore entirely forgettable, but did score hefty lad points by sharing a Gatorbite cocktail with Andy (steady on boys). It still didn't beat the Hand Grenade for taste or novelty. The only blight on an otherwise delightful evening was the sighting of a mouse(!) running through the restaurant. We were pretty glad to have finished our meals at this point and were too tired and British to complain.

Last night in New Orleans, and what a time it's been. Merci bien, N'awlins!