My days in the city were far tamer. I joined a voodoo and cemetery themed walking tour. I was a bit disappointed with the tour guide as he often contradicted himself and had a weird obsession with Nicholas Cage but I nonetheless loved hearing crazy and bizarre anecdotes from the city's past.
Yellow fever used to be a common illness. It turned the victim's skin a sickly color and people often fell unconscious from the fever. Appearing dead, the victim would then be buried, only to later regain consciousness. Eventually the victim would either suffocate to death or would manage to climb out of their own grave. To see someone you believed to be dead and had recently buried stumbling down the street, half covered in dirt, with yellow skin was, understandably, quite a shock. Unfortunately for the victim, their zombie presence spooked their living counterparts so much that the victim was often killed on the spot. Not a pleasant way to go! Once this pattern repeated itself often enough and people started to realize they were burying their loved ones alive, the dead (and presumed dead!) were then buried with bells on their wrists or ankles. Upon hearing the bells, nuns were dispatched to the cemetery to escort the undead home where they hopefully recovered. And this is where the expression "saved by the bell" comes from!
This church was built in 1826 for yellow fever victims to be buried.
We paid a visit to Saint Louis Cemetery. I learned that slaves who were able to purchase their freedom often took the surname of their former master but had to remove one letter, so the name Mirabien would turn into Mirabin, for example.
The tomb of Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen, was so heavily decorated and obviously frequently visited that it reminded me of Jim Morrison's tomb.
Congo Square (which is actually a circle!) is the birthplace of New Orleans jazz. African slaves used to gather here to play music and, over the decades, this transformed into jazz and rhythm and blues.
Naively, I assumed that since I was in town well outside of Mardi Gras, there wouldn't be any Mardi Gras beads around. Wrong! They were in every neighborhood, on every surface, and on everybody.
Mini Bear checked out the traffic on the Mississippi River.
A wedding party was lead down the street by a jazz band.
This streetcar wasn't named Desire. I checked.
I spent several hours going through the National WWII Museum. The exhibits were fascinating, informative, and thoughtfully assembled. A forty minute 4D film (yes, 4D!) titled "Beyond Boundaries" narrated by Tom Hanks gave an overview of WWII. I learned lots of tidbits at the museum: an American propaganda poster featuring a Japanese soldier help to inspire the look of Darth Vader; M&M's were created so American soldiers could enjoy chocolate that wouldn't melt; and Andrew Jackson Higgins, a New Orleans based boat designer, designed the amphibious landing craft which made the D-Day invasion possible. I was impressed by the museum's thoroughness and had lunch at the museum's cafe to think back over the morning.
I next wandered through the Garden District and marveled at the beautiful old houses and the tree lined avenues. When people learn that I've traveled to so many countries, they inevitably ask if I ever get sick from the food. What they fail to realize is that you can get food poisoning in a first world country like the United States, too. I'm happy to report that while I never once had food poisoning during the last three months in South America, it seems the wrap I had for lunch at the museum did not, shall we say, agree with my stomach and I didn't get to see as much of the Garden District as I had hoped.
Consequently, I wasn't up for a donut from the famous Cafe Du Monde but Mini Bear insisted on having her photo taken anyway.
Food poisoning aside, I had an absolute blast in the Crescent City and can't wait to return!
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