Day Twenty Seven, New Orleans

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I woke up at 5.30am for my flight, I’d laid out everything that I’d need next to my bunk to make it easy. Regretfully, I still managed to drop some of my stuff and clumsily woke up my dormies (I am so sorry!) Check out was weird, there was nobody downstairs. I put my bag down and looked around to see where the staff member was. A lady came in from outside looking very pissed off that I was there. She barely even spoke to me, I don’t think she liked that she had been disturbed.

The lady who was driving the shuttle car was much nicer, she was exactly on time too. She knew someone from Newcastle who now worked in a medical research lab in Houston. She’s one of the few Americans that understands where it is but she says she is still thrown by his accent and slang sometimes. It didn’t take as long as she had predicted it would to the airport but considering the security queue took nearly an hour it balanced out. There was such an annoying guy behind me in the queue who kept sniffing so loudly. It made me feel gross and I offered him a tissue and he look offended. I think he did it more to spite me afterwards, or it seemed like it. The flight itself was pretty relaxed, I slept through most of it. However, once I had landed it was so difficult to find where to get the bus downtown. The signs pointed me to the wrong floor of the terminal. And then my next bus to the hostel skipped my stop. I was beginning to feel crabby especially considering the punishing heat and humidity.

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I walked past the hostel as the sign had another name. The door was open and the coolness felt wonderful. I wasn’t able to check in yet but I put my stuff in the storage room and went looking for lunch. I went to a small cafe and had a toasted caprese sandwich. The mozzarella and tomatoes tasted so fresh and nourishing. The bread salty. I really enjoyed it and felt very european there. Afterwards, I decided to walk towards the markets and seek out a beignet. The markets were thriving, but I was a bit disappointed in how the Voodoo Dolls looked. You could buy one for each mood of your fancy. It was a long walk to Cafe du Monde and I sat down inside. I had planned on only buying a single one but you can only buy three at a time. Resigned to eating delicious doughnuts I got them. They were good, piles of icing (powdered) sugar on top. They were very messy to eat, I got sugar all over my jeans.

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I felt so full after eating two that I decided to just head back to my hostel. I had a shower and then just lay on my bed relaxing. I met Claire, a french girl who was travelling by herself, she wanted to go to Bourbon Street and I was happy to go with her. The room started to fill up, I met another Brit Meg. As I was introducing myself two Australian girls called out my name. They had been to Drifters Jack too, and Sabrina had told them to look out for me! It was such a crazy but nice coincidence, we talked about who we’d met there and how amazing Austin is. I invited them out but they wanted an early night after Austin. I could totally understand there reasoning.

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Bourbon Street wasn’t quite how I expected, there was lots of live music but not a lot of Jazz. It was filled with rowdy tourists in matching tshirts. It was like the Bigg Market in Newcastle but with live music. Claire and I walked all the way down it and back again trying to scope out somewhere good.

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She was keen on a karaoke bar, my friends back at home know how much of a guilty pleasure it is for me. I can’t sing so but I love performing to music. It was hilarious inside, there was a few people who kept doing songs with ridiculous antics. One guy grinded against a pole and I think it was a ballad? It was fun.Ā  Eventually I decided to do Uptown Funk and leapt about the stage, dancing, shaking my curls to the beat. I got a big round of applause and lots of high fives afterwards which made me feel good. Claire and I both felt a bit finished after my turn so we headed back to the hostel. My throat was sore so as much as Claire wanted us to go in the hot tub I just went to bed.

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