We went down to wait for our ride to the swamp. We had no idea what to expect, when I made the reservation all I received was a confirmation email of the 9:40am tour with 8am pick up. 15 minutes went by and we were beginning to wonder if someone was coming for us. I called Louisiana Tour Company and I was told “no need to worry, sweet baby girl.”
We watched the water trucks come and go and the sidewalks had been hosed by the time our driver arrived. It was a nice bus, with a/c that worked too well on this cool morning. We made our rounds to the remaining hotels and then we were off to the Bayou.
It was wild to see the swamp people’s homes and piers along the road side. I’ve seen sheds larger than these shacks. It’s definitely a different way of life. I was uncertain what we were in for when it came to the airboat swamp tour. But once we came upon the Barataria swamp, homes were just what you’d expect. It looked like a neighborhood in any other city… only this one is surrounded by swamp.
We waited to board our airboat. There were two groups taken out: five in our boat and four in the other. We had two single ladies that became fast friends because they were both scared of… well, pretty much everything. I shared the row with them, a couple from New Zealand rode in front and Frank was in back with our Captain, Captain Be-bop. Before long we were off on our adventure.
The airboat topped out about 35 mph, you get a nice breeze and surprisingly you don’t get wet. Our first stop was to see Marshmallow Bob. He got his name from a tourist, named Bob, who refused to stay seated and fell overboard and landed on the marshmallow loving alligator.
I love seeing animals in their natural habitat so this was a real treat.
We continued on and enjoyed the ride and Captain Be-bop taught us all about life in the swamp. He’s fourth generation swamper. He spent his youth catching snakes and gators. It was surprising to hear he had a fear of spiders. But when I learned they were camel spiders and brown recluse I understood. He taught us swamp survival skills and about the plants that are native to the area and those that are not.
We came to the marsh and we learned that this is where the alligators come to lay eggs. The alligator farmers – that aid in the keeping the gators from being extinct – hire the swampers to collect the eggs each spring. Captain Be-bop was a wealth of information and welcomed our questions. He brought out his pet baby gator for us to hold. Then, he demonstrated that you can easily lull a gator to sleep by rubbing the top of his head.
Further along the tour we saw a couple more gators, one was a big boy about 12 feet. He wasn’t interested in snacking on marshmallows but he did come over and say hi. Meanwhile, a smaller gator came over for a snack. They are really beautiful creatures. I’m glad we were able to experience close encounters in their natural habitat.
The tour was over much too soon. We really enjoyed our time out. It was a highlight of our trip. If I ever return to NOLA I hope to spend more time swampin’. We waited for the tour bus to take us back to the quarter. Rather than dropping us off at our hotel, we joined others and were dropped off at Jackson Square.
We were in search of lunch. My original plan had us at August or Commander’s Palace, but we didn’t get back early enough to take advantage of the lunch specials. The list of eats I compiled before the trip were scratched when we tired of fried foods and learned we didn’t much care for $10-$15 po-boys. So much for a poor man’s food!? That was really the case across the board. Take red beans and rice for example, can you get much cheaper? These restaurants are making a killing at $15 for an entrée.
But I digress, we needed food, we grew tired of wandering so we went back to Coops Place. We started with the Duck Quesadilla this time, then Frank ordered Red Beans and Rice with two pieces of Fried Chicken. I had the shrimp creole.
Our meal was tasty, we really enjoyed the Duck Quesadilla. It was definitely different and it offered a nice blend of sweet heat. The Red Beans and Rice weren’t as good as Saturday night’s. Different chef, maybe? The Shrimp Creole and Fried Chicken were just as good, however.
We went to Café Du Monde for dessert. I was told it’s an absolute must. It wasn’t clear how to order, we took a seat but no one came. Just as we were about to give up a waiter asked if we had been helped? “No.” He sent a waitress over. We ordered Café Au Lait and beignets.
Thankfully, they brought water too. The coffee was much too hot to drink and it’s much too rich and sugary without something to wash it down. I know it’s probably sacrilege to say, but I didn’t much care for them. But I'm sure there's a great Charlie Sheen joke to be had with all that powdered sugar.
We walked over to Jackson Square next. I took photos and we sat under a gorgeous Oak Tree while Frank drank his coffee. I took a sip, it was too sweet and milky for me. I like coffee black on the rare occasion I drink it.
I wanted to ride the streetcars so we made our way over to the Riverfront line. We saw Satan picnicking while we boarded. Glad to see he was enjoying the weather, too.
The Jazzy pass for unlimited rides is $3 and I don’t understand why more people don’t go that route considering a one-way ride is $1.25. We rode down to the Canal line and took it to its end at the Cemeteries. I wanted to see what it was like to see tombs rather than being buried six feet under. We had a leisurely stroll through the cemetery. Entire families were buried in each plot. I’ve heard of such a thing, but it was the first time I had really seen it.
We took the Canal streetcar back to the quarter to catch the St. Charles line. There it was! That awful stench. You forget how horrid it is until you leave and come back to it. We rode down St. Charles, back Uptown, the part of NOLA I really enjoyed.
I was already hungry, rice just does not keep me full for long. Frank suggested we find something around the college, “there must be good food.” He ran the app to see what’s nearby… a hundred different pizza places. No dice. He then, turned up the St. James Cheese Company. We had a winner. We were missing cheese. We had to get back on the streetcar to get there and then walk a couple blocks, but it was well worth the effort. We came upon a cute little neighborhood with tree lined streets dotted with mom and pop shops. That’s one of the greatest things about NOLA. Corporate chains haven’t taken over the market place – well, except for the Popeye’s on nearly every corner. The little guy is still thriving.
We ordered two sandwiches at St James: the Cuisimano with Italian meats and the Beecher’s Cheddar with turkey, basil, tomato and avocado. I ordered the house salad with mine which was arugula with light vinaigrette and Frank tried the house chips.
I was so happy to bite into green with crunch. Vegetables I had been eating had been cooked down and had no bite left. The chips were good, too. Crunchy, not greasy. The sandwiches were top notch except for the bread. It was too dense and overpowered the tasty fresh toppings. I ate mine open faced and it proved to provide a better balance of ingredients.
We walked back to the St Charles line and rode it down to Bourbon Street. We walked back to the hotel and rested a bit. We had been going non-stop all day. We showered and napped a bit before heading back out. We popped in and out of a few bars looking for the ideal one to enjoy MNF and a couple beers. Monday night football is not a draw in New Orleans. We bellied up to the bar at the Bourbon Orleans Hotel. We ordered an Abita Wheat and Amber. I was surprised the Wheat was actually a lager, I liked it quite a bit and switched to it. We stayed until halftime. When the bartender heard we were from Vegas he suggested we go to the Frenchman’s Street for something we can’t get back home. He said Bourbon Street was for frat boys and this was where it was at. It sounded great so we moseyed on over.
We enjoy live music, but the overall vibe was not one we cared for. At the very least it felt like we needed whacky tobacky to fit in. I was hungry yet again and we didn’t see a spot for grub so we bailed and found ourselves back near Jackson’s Square only majority of the places were closed. Including the one spot, I thought we might check out with a shrimp and crab boil, even if it had less than stellar reviews. Frank remembered a Sports Bar we tried to get into on Sunday, but was packed to the gills so we didn’t stay. He suggested we go there, watch the rest of the game and grab a bite. I had no better idea and I was tired of walking. My ankle was screaming for rest.
The place was Huck Finn’s and it was dead. We were the only customers. Probably not a good sign, but they had the game on and the kitchen was serving food. We hadn’t yet tried fried pickles so we got an order of those to start. They didn’t come with a sauce so Frank made his own with ketchup and Tabasco. I gotta say it wasn’t bad.
As for the entrees, Frank had a hankering for Louisiana hot sausage all trip and finally found it on a menu. He got the hot sausage po-boy. It wasn’t hot nor very good sausage.
I wanted to try alligator and I finally found it, too. I had the sautéed alligator in a spicy Cajun sauce with tomatoes, jalapenos, sautéed onions, bell peppers and celery.
The flavor of the medley was fine, but the gator? Holy moly was it dry. It does in fact taste like chicken. Really, really, dry chicken. We paid the tab and wandered back out to the streets of the Quarter.
No bars grabbed us. Frank suggested we get a daiquiri. When in Rome, right? I forget which one we went into but we sampled a couple flavors. It was only the margarita that I could choke down. I just can deal with that hard alcohol mixed with sugary sweetness. He bought the smallest they had which was still $9. We walked Bourbon Street for one last time. The neon reminded me of home, but really it only made me miss it. I did not like the hawkers or the drunks. The talent to bring you in the clubs was laughable. I’ve been in Las Vegas so long, I’m totally jaded when it comes to half naked women. And the smell? I just couldn’t get past it. I cannot even fathom how bad it must be on a hot & humid day. I did learn that Mermaids and La Bayou on Fremont St are pretty authentic. They’ve been able to replicate (albeit to a lesser degree) the rank stench of alcohol induced vomit and bleach found all over Bourbon Street. Frank turned to me and asked, “Where to?” It mattered none to me. I was over it. I wished I could handle getting back out to Magazine Street, because I liked what I saw there and it would’ve been nice to explore. But I couldn’t rely on my feet to get me there. My ankle was simply too pissed. Needless to say we returned to the hotel.
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