Four hours of the sights and the sounds and the smells and the beat of the New Orleans French Quarter left me exhausted and hungry for more!
The balconies are spilling over with flowers and ornate with old wrought iron. The glimpses I got into little hidden courtyards with their cool splash of fountains made me yearn to get behind the gates to rest. The sound of jazz coming out of a dark doorway… followed me down the street, haunting me even after I could no longer hear the tune.
The brilliant colors of paint and the aroma of French pastries, the street performers, the strange shops selling forbidden things and the old mules pulling buggies down the narrow streets…All of it pulses with life.
This fellow was doing a mime act. He broke the pose and then noticed I had been preparing to take his picture. He squatted down and said “Go on and take a picture.” Everyone acts like they are enjoying themselves. It feels like ‘party time’ even when it’s not Mardi Gras!
Music has a voice and here it shouts in joy and weeps bitter tears…in the language of jazz.