Jambalaya Diaries: Saturday, January 19th

Some tortures are physical / And some are mental, / But the one that is both / Is dental. -Ogden Nash, poet (1902-1971) 

Up at a few minute after 8:00am to make a pot of chicory blend java. Peter soon followed me into the kitchen and we chatted while I fried up some kartoffelage for breakfast. The Sisterhood had decided, the night before, that they needed to cruise Magazine for Power Shopping possibilities and Dom Pedro had agreed to be their Southern Sherpa. I was going to take advantage of my freedom to go for a bike ride. Gang left around 11:30am, after lazing about and doing a few loads of laundry. (Lynne and Peter had traveled with just carry-on luggage so they needed to wash some things.) I worked away at the Jambalaya Diaries until 12:30pm and then suited up for my ride.

Just before I put on my clip-ons, I realized that I probably didn't have the set of keys with the key to my cable lock. I usually give this set to Cora Lee to carry, for back-up. Particularly useful when we stop to gas up and she immediately goes to use washroom, leaving me to fill car and clean windshield while she relieves her bladder. She can then return to a locked vehicle, (by this time I'm probably in the bathroom myself), after all the work is done!

I have my bike in the hallway on the first floor, secured to an attractive and very, very heavy marble/wrought iron, (piece of fencing pinched by William Banks McClintock IV, our landlord, which once surrounded a Vanderbilt mansion in New York), table, aforesaid thief had had made here in New Orleans, and without key to lock I wasn't going anywhere! Decided I'd put my helmet and gloves in a small knapsack and go in search of a bike store. WBM IV had mentioned, on Thursday night when he came over to show the Vacuum Tube Fiends how to change channels, that a friend of his owned a bike shop in the neighbourhood, but a few blocks away, I had thought.

Set out a little after 1:00pm, after all the backing and forthing surrounding the Misplaced Key Fiasco had played itself out and headed down Magazine, enjoying the glorious sunshine and snapping away like a Japanese tourist. Came across a biker sitting outside a small café and asked him if he knew the whereabouts of a bike store. He thought that the closest one was further along Magazine so I decided I'd head that way as I wanted to explore the street anyway. Took the opportunity to quiz my new found friend about bike routes and he suggested that following Coliseum out towards Tulane University was worthwhile so I thanked him and went on my way.

Didn't take but a few more blocks that I had to stop to take off a number of outer layers as it was really very warm. Since I had loads of room in my backpack I stowed my jacket and vest, (Up until Saturday it had been very cool, particularly when out of the sun, so I thought I might need garb I had worn when I left.), and continued, drinking in the warmth and the architecture of the street. Was soon past the more residential part of Magazine to where the shops and restaurants and bars and boutiques lined both sides of the thoroughfare with earnest. Enjoyed people watching as I strolled along as many other tourists and locals, families and groups of friends, were out wandering the street as was I, or were lining up for brunch or lunch outside many of the bistros and cafés I passed.

I wondered if I might bump into The Gang of Three and sure enough, just before Louisiana Avenue, I spied them sitting at an outdoor table having just ordered a late lunch. I sat and chatted fro a few minutes and although Cora Lee gave me the set of keys I needed to unchain my fettered steed, I had decided, by this point, that I was happy just to continue walking and exploring on foot. This way I could take pictures more easily and there was certainly loads to see.

Taking a small sip of CoraLeeta's ice-water, I bade my companions adieu, (They were making for home,on foot, having taken the bus, (Famous streetcar wasn't running!), along St Charles Avenue and then walking to Magazine to head east.),as I wanted to take a look at the territory they'd already traversed. By the time I reached the Jetgo filling station, not far from Lilette, where I'd filed up the night before I thought I'd ask to use the restroom as I knew I had some distance ahead of me. Chap behind th ecounter was very friendly and after I'd emptied my somewhat full bladder, I thanked him and asked if he knew of a bookstore nearbye. He wasn't sure but another customer gave me directions so I made for McKeowan's Books. I was looking for a copy of Cormac McCarthy's Suttree our next NRBC selection.

"I shall become, I shall become a collector of me. And put meat on my soul." —Sonia Sanchez

 A few blocks along Magazine a car stopped in the middle of the crosswalk and I was a tad surprised until I recognized the chap from the filling station. He leaned across to the passenger window and said that he had misdirected me and had hoped that he would bump into me before I went to far afield. He then told me where I should be heading and I thanked him again and we waved goodbye. Have found the people everywhere here to be incredibly friendly and extremely polite and helpful.

I walked to Napoleon and then took a left, making for the river. At Tchoupitoulas, (a fairly busy street, akin to Powell, in Vancouver, per esempio, running parallel to the Mississippi, next to wharehouses and industrial sites of one sort or another, servicing port activities, I imagine, I turned west for few blocks, passing Rosy's Jazz Hall and coming to McKeowan's Books and Difficult Music store, right across from the F & M patio Bar and down the street from Grit's Bar. Unfortunately, the very knowledgeable proprietress only had a copy of No Country for Old Men so I thanked her for her time and made for Rouses Food Market back three blocks on Tchoupitoulas. I'd noticed it earlier and wondered if it might be something like Granville Islanf Market as it was housed in a huge industrial looking structure. Turned out to be a version of Whole Foods or Capers so I picked up some olives, a few bunches of green onions and some crumbled blue cheese for the salads I knew we had planned for the next couple of days.

At the cash register the most pleasant and friendly young woman asked if I was visiting after I had trouble making my Amex card work in the reader. She wanted to know why we had chosen to visit New Orleans and such. Anyway, asked her if I could walk back along either Tchoupitoulas or Annunciation Street, (I knew they would take me parallel to Magazine), to return to the end of Magazine where we were staying. She replied that I probably could but she advised against it, saying it was better if I returned along Napoleon to Magazine. An older white woman behind  me in line nodded her approval so I gathered it would be foolhardy to try a foray into the neighbourhoods bounded by those streets.

Anyway, I thanked the cashier and made for Napoleaon, stopping to snap a few pictures of the metal plaques imbedded into the sidewalk outside a building I assumed was some sort of music venue, (Artists Only sign on Napoleon Street entrance), and which I later discovered was Tipitina's. From Wikipedia:

Tipitina's is a music venue located at the corner of Napoleon Avenue and Tchoupitoulas Street in Uptown New Orleans. Local music enthusiasts opened the venue on January 14, 1977.The name was inspired by a well-known song by Professor Longhair who also performed there until his death in 1980. Before adopting use of "Tipitina's" as its name, the facility was known as "The 501 Club," in reference to its street address (501 Napoleon Avenue). Tipitina's stands as one of the best-known clubs in New Orleans. The building itself was constructed in 1912, and prior to becoming Tipitina's, it served as a gambling house, gymnasium, and brothel.

Very pleased with my serendipitous find, I continued back to Magazine, this time walking along the north side of the street. Very pleasant stroll as the sun was till warm even though it was close to 4:00pm. Was thirsty by this time so stopped at La Divina Café and Gelateriea for a Lime Sorbet and spooned it, savouring the tartness as I continued my trek. Loved the unending wrought iron balconies and huge tree roots heaving and cracking the sidewalks, glad I wasn't navigating some of the stretches at night as a tumble could happen quite easily on the treacherously uneven surface.

Maya Angelou

Made it home a little after 5:00pm to find Cora Lee basking in the late afternoon sun on our balcony, sipping white wine, others relaxed and reading inside. I had a quick shower and changed into long pants as we had dinner reservations at a spot, Bayona, which specifically disallowed shorts! I had a few snorts of malt, (Macallan and Ardbeg), along with Dom Pedro, to fortify myself for the encumbrance of pantaloons and we were off, just after 6:00pm, to find a spot to watch the Krewe du Vieux Parade. We followed Camp, just a block over from Magazine, under the Pontchartrain Expressway past the Confederate Memorial Hall Museum, the Contemporary Arts Center and St Patrick's Church to Lafayette Square. Onward to Canal and once across we followed Royal, (the crowds becoming thicker and thicker as we neared the parade route itself:

• The Parade Route begins on the corner of North Rampart Street and Franklin Avenue in New Orleans.
• The parade will progress south until it turns west at Royal Street.
• The parade will continue down Royal Street, across Esplanade Avenue until it reaches Toulouse Street.
• At Toulouse, the parade will turn southeast for two blocks before turning northeast on Decatur Street.
• The Krewe du Vieux will journey up Decatur and turn north on Frenchman Street.
• The parade turns east at North Rampart Street, and the parade will end at the corner of North Rampart Street and Spain Street.

Patti LaBelle

We found ourselves a pretty good site near the corner of Royal and St Peter, (St Peter himself insisted on this very location!), and we left The SIsterhood to guard our piece of the sidewalk, (behind a family sitting on the curb so we had an unobstructed view of the street itself), and we went around the corner to Pat O'Brien's for hootch. We ordered two Guinness, (bottled not draft, unfortunatley), and two white wines to go, (all in plastic cups), and managed to scored four green Pat O'Brien derby hats for our costumes! Lad handing them out said to me when I asked for two more, ("You better get laid!"). When we returned to our little piece of sidewalk I passed along his sentiments but they met with nothing but mixed scorn and guffaws from The Sisterhood!

We were in place and ready for events to unfold before us by just after 7:05pm but had to wait until nearly 7:40pm until the first marchers and their float appeared. Still, we had a most interesting time talking to our neighbours. In particular, two lads from Missouri, in town for an "ethical hackers" conference, (That in itself was a most interesting conversation!), one of whom was a battalion leader stationed in NO for three months during the aftermath of Katrina. He told us that FEMA had awarded a contract to a private mortuary company for the removal of bodies. Army or National Guard personnel were not allowed to remove corpses but rather radioed GPS location coordinates for pick-up and disposal. The removal aspect did not happen in a timely fashion and when survivors in a given neighbourhood began complaining about the bloated corpses which packs of starving dogs were now ravaging, troops attempted to keep the animals away. (In many cases they had been doing this anyway but did not have permission to shoot in the first few days after the hurricane had wreaked its unimaginable havoc.) When the dogs turned on some of the soldiers they had to shoot some of the animals to protect themselves. CNN started too run stories about how these pets were being indiscriminately hunted. Once the troops were given permission to defend themselves against these packs of essentially wild animals, they had to call in a Black Hawk helicopter each time they shot a dog and have it removed before CNN cameras made it to the location. But the soldiers were not allowed to remove any dead human bodies! 

Anyway, we passed the time very, very amicably and when the parade did make its way past our viewing spot it was well worth the wait. From Doug MacCash, The Times-Picayune,

Sexual explicitness is Krewe du View’s stock and trade, with beyond-bawdy float designs and costumes that could very well be banned in less laissez-faire communities. But the parade is not purely a procession of private parts. Each year the membership blends comic crudity with Crescent City topicality. Predictably, this year, The Times-Picayune and National Football League Commissioner Roger Goodell were the focus of special satirical abuse.

Krewe du Vieux aims for eyebrow-raising, low-brow amusement and often hits the mark with its rude designs and naughty details. And between the blue jokes the parade is punctuated with brass band after brass band, providing an almost continuous soul-soaring blare. Throws are sparse by super krewe standards, but much more thoughtful. Carnival is, in part, about catharsis and Krewe du Vieux kicked off the season on a bracing note.

It was just a blast and people beside me were very accommodating, allowing me to step in front of them to take numerous pictures. Although most people were drinking we saw not a shred of drunken or nasty behaviour. Just another big party in the Big Easy.The sidewalks were packed to overflowing, of course, but people always made way for one another, never jostling us or causing us to spill a drop from our drinks. I'm sure accidents do and did happen but we all had the sense that it really was a most well behaved crowd.

Shortly before 8:00pm we shook hands with our fellow parade watchers and walked about four blocks to Bayona on Dauphine Street. Of course, The Sisterhood knew all about Susan Spicer, a New Orleans-based chef, who owns several other restaurants in the city. Currently she has a partnership with Regina Keever, and together they opened Bayona in 1990, a four star restaurant. We had a more than delectable meal, (Arctic Char for CL, steak for Lynne and amazingly succulent and tasty Veal Sweetbreads with Sherry Mustard, (me), and Lemon Caper Butter for Dom Jugos), paired with a 2010 wonderful blended red, (51% Syrah, 24% Petit Verdot and 25% Malbec), from Ancient Peaks in Paso Robles, 14.1%. None of us wanted dessert so after we paid our bill we made our way back to Canal where we caught a bus down Magazine to our home away from home. Everyone was pleasantly tired by 11:00pm so we bade each other goodnight and repaired to our separate bedrooms.

Cora Lee and I read until just after midnight and by then we turned off our bedside lamps and sank into blissful sleep, the lights of the iconic, majestic steel box truss Crescent City Connection toll bridge visible from the window at the south end of our bedroom, the New Orleans version of our Lions Gate. To be continued... 

Thank you for your warm e-mail!

My mom and family are really grateful for your message.

And Emiko would be happy, too!

I arrived I. San Diego last night.

It would be great if I ca see you😄

I can use this mail and my cell here.

Please let me know where and where Ana when will be convenient for you.

I am sure we can work things out.

We can even visit you in LA work somewhere.

Looking very much forward to hearing from you. Love, Toshiko

East Canopy

Hello, Ayn!

It's really nice hearing from you. Thank you for your Considerate E-mail and number.

I arrived in San Diego last night. If that's OK with you, I would love to see you. We can arrange to go to LA. Hope to talk or see you soon! Love, Toshiko

West canopy

Since our vineyards are oriented from North to South, the grapes receive sunlight the whole day. However, leafing is performed only on the sunlight exposed clusters that face East and so receive the morning sun which cannot damage the fruit. The leaves of the clusters facing West remain untouched and protect the grapes from the stronger afternoon sun.