Shouting from the Hop

What chance against Katrina? Pic: R. Harvey 

A lot of bad things happen in this world of ours, and I'm not going to quantify or compare the Indian Ocean Tsunami with the current devastation around the Gulf of Mexico caused by Hurricane Katrina, but the situation in New Orleans is pretty grim by the look of it.

My girlfriend went to New Orleans last year for a conference; she stayed downtown, and visited the Conference Centre most days. This is one of the places that a whole bunch of local people are now holed up, waiting for food, water, clothing, and rescue.

I went to Nawlins (as the locals pronounce it) way back in 1991, for a few days R&R. I stayed in the French Quarter, which is now underwater like most of the city I believe, in a wonderful hotel. I'd flown in from Orlando, where I'd had over a week of Disney-like fun, and didn't really know what to expect. I got my bag at the airport, and was looking at the hotel board, trying to figure out where to stay. A sailor (yes, I know...) approached me and offered me a lift into town which I accepted (I was young and naive!) . We had a good chat actually; he said he was due to meet someone who hadn't showed up so may as well give me a lift. We drove round the French Quarter looking for this hotel whose name I knew, but couldn't find it. In the end, he dropped me on the corner of Bourbon and Royale Streets and I gave him some cash for his trouble - probably more than I expected and probably more than the cab may have cost, but he was fairly insistent and I didn't fancy arguing. At least he didn't drive off with my bag...

I walked into the hotel on that corner, and it looked quite nice, having formerly been the city Opera House. I asked for a room and was told how much it cost and if that was still OK? Of course it was - Gold Card at the ready! The fourth floor room looked out on Bourbon street, and the bed was the biggest I'd ever been in - you could lay on it, stretch out and still not touch any of the four sides!

I decided to visit the Superdome (another place survivors are currently waiting to be rescued from) and asked the concierge how to get there? He said " Get a cab". I said I wanted to walk as it didn't look far on the map (about a mile) and he repeated "Get a cab!". I left the hotel, turned right, no cabs so I started to walk. Within 100 yards of my exit I was approached by a local lad - maybe 15? - who started to talk, and said he could tell me "where I got my shoes". Naive move number two! How was he to know where I bought my shoes? He insisted that he could tell me - even the zip code - and foolishly I took the $10 bet. Straight away he told me the street name (Bourbon), the city (N.O.), state (Louisiana) and local zip code (who cares), as that was "where my shoes were at!" and therefore where I had "got" them at that moment. I paid up (I didn't think it wise not to) and he said he'd be my bodyguard for $100... I declined.

I walked on to the Superdome, remembering not to get into conversations with anyone I didn't know (ie nobody!) and took the tour. I tried to get a cab back, but failed, so returned on foot to the hotel. I crossed Canal Street around 5pm - rush-hour; looking around, I could see literally thousands of people, and I was the only white boy... I walked quicker.

That night I wandered Bourbon Street, taking in a few jazz bars. I had been approached to go into a steak restaurant (as in most tourist areas, you get touted to go in here, there, or everywhere), and returned later taking up the offer as it looked OK from the outside. It was incredibly dark inside, and I had trouble reading the menu. I was eating my food when a family came in - mom, dad, son and daughter. The daughter ordered and got a salad, and as I tucked into my main course she started on her salad. Within twenty seconds she squealed! Something had moved on her plate. She squealed again - it was a cockroach! The waiter came over, removed it with his fingers and said "they get everywhere these days...". I left pretty quick!

Next day, I took a swamp tour which was great fun. Driven over the Mississippi bridge you get to see alligators, turtles, Spanish moss, the bayou, and great big ants up close from a small boat! I then took the Natchez riverboat trip along the Mississippi that afternoon, which was OK, but you soon realise that the view (of other cargo ships, oil refineries, etc) isn't that good. That night I went to a very nice restaurant (I tried to find the one mentioned by Dennis Quaid in The Big Easy but couldn't) but, walking back, I saw the biggest cockroach I've ever seen anywhere! I noticed it about 50 yards ahead, on the pavement; I thought it was a large frog till I got close. It was around 4 or 5 inches long, and nearly as tall and wide! Yuk!

I flew out next morning, glad I'd been, but knowing that it would take a lot to get me back.

Now it seems that many of us will never get a chance to go, or go back, sadly, as it will undoubtedly take many years to get the city, and especially the French Quarter, back to a viable tourist destination again.