We stayed in the French Quarter.- there's nothing better than waking to the sound of live jazz and tugboats. I felt more than a little guilty I was there to have fun, though. Homelessness is a huge problem in New Orleans, as it is in most cities. There’s a distinct demarcation between frivolous tourists and those trying to eke out a living. This year, I'm going to donate my July birthday royalties to a New Orleans homeless shelter rather than my usual animal-related charity. My thoughts keep going back to the people I saw on the streets.
You could literally spend an entire weekend shopping in the French Quarter but what I found more intriguing was the vibrant street art & music community. Every morning, they'd set up along the streets. Every night, they'd pack their wares and walk back to their homes. Art is never easy - in any form. It was obvious these artists were busting their butts just to make a living. One morning, we left our hotel at 6am and walked through Saint Louis Cathedral Square. There weren't many tourists out yet but a street performer was already playing his guitar and singing his heart out. When we walked back to our hotel around 7:30pm, he was still there. Kudos to this guy and the rest. Following your dream is never easy.
If you're wondering about the Voodoo Scene there are plenty of voodoo shops for the tourists, much like Salem and its "witch" shops. My advice is to do a bit of research so you don't embarrass yourself. Don't be "that" tourist and go crazy stocking up on voodoo dolls and gris-gris bags without knowing what they are. I saw too many tourists making asses of themselves and being flat-out disrespectful. It was weird. Voodoo is a polytheistic ancestral religion. A religion - not something to make fun of or screw around with because you think it's "spooky." Just my two-cents.
Walking the streets of the French Quarter, there were only two places that gave me pause for thought. After exiting the Voodoo Museum, my phone battery was completely dead (it was charged before we went in). In the Pharmaceutical Museum, there was an old bed that felt "off" to both my daughter and myself. In my mind's eye, all I could see were bloodied sheets and as you can see by my photo, the sheets were clean.
Photo courtesy of Darjeelingtea at English Wikipedia
[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons |
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