Bourbon Street to Jackson Square - the many faces of New Orleans' French Quarter

The French Quarter is a tiny piece of New Orleans that packs a big wallop. Eat muffulettas at Central Grocery or po'boys from Johnny's for lunch, find one of the good restaurants on Royal Street for dinner, and never be too far from the sound of a brass band the lure of a tarot card reader. Much of the Quarter's architecture dates back to the late 1700s. It's a piece of old world charm wearing a baseball cap.

On any night, Bourbon Street is a sea of college-aged fun seekers, intent on consuming as much alcohol and having as much fun as humanly possible, and an equal number of tourists entertained or horrified by watching the spectacle of it happening.

The gaudy street with the boozy name runs the length of the French Quarter, from Canal Street to Esplanade. By late afternoon, this sleazy sleeping giant awakens. Like the plant in “Little Shop of Horrors”, you can practically hear it yawling, “FEED ME!” By dusk, the police have closed the street to four-wheeled traffic. By Saturday night, the street becomes a Mississippi River of humanity.

The entire mass, like a two dimensional conga line, weaves its way through the street, bathed in the garish glow of the neon lights of saloons, restaurants, strip joints, and trinket shops that live off it.  Shills line the street entreating passersby to come on in and sample whatever is on the other side of their doorways- “Big Assed Beers,” lap dancers, “men who look more beautiful than women,” packed bars and bands playing music with enough volume to tickle the soles of your feet as you walk by.

Occasionally, glitter seems to fall from the heavens. Look up on the wrought iron balconies of the Omni Parker House and you’ll see tourists, mostly of the male persuasion, laden with arm-loads of Mardi Gras beads, intent on getting the attention of partiers of the female persuasion who just might do something provocative enough to attract a blitz of said beads. As a social experiment, I got the attention of a group of these men in an effort to snag one of the baubles and had the experience of feeling invisible for the first time in my life. I would have done way better had I been equipped with a good pair of bazoombas. Oh well, next lifetime.

It is entirely necessary to have witnessed the nocturnal version of Bourbon Street to appreciate the matinee version. As if a cosmic hand pulled the plug, quietude reigns. Like the college students who roamed it hours before, the street seems to be sleeping it off.

The hum of automobile tires coasting slowly down the street replaces the cochlea rattling decibel level of the evening before. Piles of plastic beer cups, soiled napkins, and party beads are swept into refuse trucks. Tanker trucks hose down the street with a sweet smelling wash of water and suds. Without neon, Bourbon Street in daylight looks like an aging actress, relaxing with a cup of coffee after she’s removed her stage makeup.

The rest of the French Quarter has remained well mannered day and night. Away from Bourbon Street, the Quarter wraps its arms around you on early morning walks down narrow streets, showing off her brightly painted three and four story buildings with shuttered floor to ceiling windows graced by wrought iron balconies, many spilling over with the dense green foliage of hanging plants.

The scores of hotels, eateries, shops, and galleries that fill this small section of New Orleans curled against an elbow of the Mississippi River in the southeast part of the city will soon bustle with activity. The clip clop of horse carriages on sun-bleached streets, music from street bands, and the clatter of foot traffic over slate and brick sidewalks are the leitmotif of a day in the French Quarter.

Jackson Square, an emerald gem set in the midst of the Quarter, is surrounded by historic buildings. The famous Café du Monde lies one block beyond. By day, the promenade around the square is given over to artists and musicians. 

By dark, most businesses in the buildings have closed. Luminous islands of tarot card readers and psychics, their small tables and chairs bathed in candlelight, glow gently in the dark. Readers sit pensively and softly solicit couples that walk by. The adventurous, perhaps seduced by the pungent scent of patchouli or a whim to hear their futures foretold in such a romantic setting, choose a chair and hope for the best.

 A tourist destination for thousands every day, the Quarter is also home to people who live in apartments and condos hidden behind wooden doors that line the narrow streets. It’s always a surprise to see a resident pop out of a door, brief case in hand, and head to work. And more of a surprise to catch a glimpse of a daintily manicured courtyard behind one of those doors

New Orleans is of European lineage, founded by the French in 1718, ceded to Spain in 1763, reacquired by Napoleon in 1801, then sold to the United States as the Louisiana Purchase in 1803. The French Quarter, rebuilt by the Spanish after two disastrous fires, is the oldest part of the city (Vieux Carré). The buildings with their floor to ceiling wooden shuttered windows that open to narrow balconies with wrought iron railings are architectural remnants of the late 1700s. Like Paris, this enclave has old world elegance.

The Quarter has its own scale and style. Magic? Yes...

Comments

[Susaan]

Clearly you do your best work in the wake of serious sensory overload! Bravo, PT!

[CNKeach]

Paul,

The place seems magical. I remember being there once over a decade ago. You've captured how I felt walking around the quarter at night. Well done.

[CNKeach]

I remember wandering around the French Quarter about a decade or more ago. It was magical. You've captured how it felt for me when I was there. Well done.

[Rebecca]

A wonderful piece, pt. Truly gorgeous imagery that captures this magical, unique place visually and in spirit. Thank you for not just leaving it at Bourbon St., though this is one of the best descriptions of it I've seen. Your photos are marvelous.

[Jon]

So that's where you were! New Orleans was my favorite place to visit on business. We had two major clients there, and I spent many weeks in the French Quarter. Hot chocolate and beignets, and of course, Big Daddys!

You could walk into any street bar and hear the best cajun, blues, jazz; you name it, they had it!

[Lee]

Just saw this on [ http://www.cnn.com/ ]www.CNN.com and thought of you.

If you get on to CNN then you can click on the links to see the menu, etc.  Just thought you might want this information in the event you travel to New Orleans any time in the near future.