Meander

On Saturday, I planned to take it easy. Focus. Evaluate where to go next. Relax and chill out. I did my obligated work presentation, went and did a bit of walking around in the daylight, and met a friend for dinner and some conversation. My colleague was staying at the Monteleone Hotel, and I tried to investigate the famous Carousel Bar, but the whole place was packed with various wedding parties. The bride was stunning, but I could hardly get a glimpse of the rotating bar. I get the idea; maybe on another night.

After dinner, I walked towards the mecca of New Orleans, Cafe du Monde. I was just ambling along, with a vague notion to orient myself to some of the bars further from my hotel. Across from the tourists and the cafe, I found Tujague's and stopped in to check out New Orlean's second oldest restaurant and my first stand-up bar. Once again, history. A massive old cypress bar, no stools, just a first rate bartender and a vibrant cross section of people enjoying an extensive array of drinks. In about ten minutes time, I saw a man order a vodka cranberry, a couple order two bottled beers, a guy order whiskey neat, and several other folks order classic cocktails. I asked the bartender if he would mind making me a Ramos Gin Fizz, since I had not yet had one. This guy was a total character. He complied and told me that on a previous night he had an order for 23 of them. Now, this is not an easy drink to make. It is quite labor intensive, with egg white, gin, ice, lots of shaking, etc. This guy was a gem. He had clearly seen and heard it all and still wanted to stick around and see if you could surprise him. Clever quips rolling effortlessly off his tongue, sharp wit; never lifting an eyebrow in disdain. A cool dude. I was intimidated. I stood at the bar and sipped my fizz. I watched and listened. It was really a unique experience.

Next I checked my bearings and decided to set out for Bar Tonique. A little off the beaten path...definitely on the fringe of the tourist quarter, but very close walking distance and got to see a bit of the residential areas. Wasn't sure at first whether to stop, but decided to be open to one drink. Went in and sat at the square bar facing the nicely lit liquor bottles and the extensive chalk board menus mounted on brick walls. It took quite some time for one of the two bartenders to come over. There wasn't much talking. I ordered a Rampart something or other - variation on a Manhattan- from a multi-page menu. It was a nice drink, with pretty, sparkling ice cubes. The music was loud, good quality, but the whole vibe was decidedly hipster (or is it "local"?) I can't tell. I enjoyed watching the barkeeps and the clientele who mostly seemed mellow, with the exception of some very young kids that moved to one of the booths along the edge. Eventually,, after my strong drink started to dilute into nothing but rye-flavored water, I decided I should probably head out. I asked the female bartender about the safety of the neighborhood, and it was only at this point, after about 90 minutes at the bar that I got even a glimmer of friendliness from the staff. I get the "local" thing, but c'mon. Ultimately, the drink was good quality, the vibe was real cool, but the service was questionable. Maybe it was just an off night.

Quickly, I was away from the sketchy area and back in the crowds. Saturday night on Bourbon Street. Dear God! I was making my way off the main drag to avoid the pools of vomit and the carousing, and I ran into two friends walking straight into the party. I was persuaded to come with to the Funky Pirate blues bar where we met up with another friend and were pressured to buy expensive plastic cups of beer. I enjoyed the company - and sort of dug the music - a little. I could have done without the preposterously overweight singer's lewdness. But, it was all part of the experience. After two sets, I had to leave. It was too much and I couldn't stomach the Abita after my previous cocktails. Just not a party girl. Besides I had one day left in New Orleans and still so much on the to-do list. . .