Up early and ready to explore. Ruby Slipper for breakfast (excellent bacon bloody mary) then off to St. Louis Cemetery No. 1— the oldest (opened in 1789) Roman Catholic cemetery in New Orleans. Our tour guide gives us a TON of history on New Orleans along with symbolism found throughout the cemetery. Even in death, it’s all about status and money. They’ve recently begun charging $20 for a tour due to extreme vandalism. Apparently, people like to dig up bodies and desecrate graves for kicks. In 2010, Nick Cage built himself a nine-foot-tall cement pyramid mausoleum. Because, he’s Nick Cage.
So, I talk to people. Strangers in line, people on the street, in the elevator. I’m pretty sure it drives Karl crazy but I can’t help it. But today, while I shop, Karl strikes up a conversation with one of the many New Orleans characters. A former author and black rights activist from Marietta, Ohio. His final words to Karl? “You’ll know what it means to look through the eyes of God.”
Heavy.
Karl’s never had his tarot cards read, so we stop for a reading at Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo. The woman nailed our personalities and left us with a few takeaways. Karl has creative work opportunities coming to him and there’s big money in his future. No big money for me, but I will be financial secure thanks to the book I’m supposed to write. Meanwhile, to ease anxiety, I should travel lots and be more spontaneous. Perfect.
Our friend’s recommended having a drink in the seance room at Muriel’s on Jackson Square. So we did.
It’s dinner time. After much deliberation, and chats with a local and an older couple from Massachusetts, we decide on GW Fins. Holy moly was it good.
First of all, they have a biscuit guy. It’s his sole duty to ensure everyone has a hot, fresh biscuit on their plate throughout the night. So, Karl is already pleased. We start off with lobster dumplings. Light and delicate and nestled in a rich butter sauce. Karl orders the Gulf Louisiana Bluefin Tuna—wood grilled with Yukon gold potatoes, creamed leeks, Portobello, and veal jus. I get the Parmesan Crusted Sheepshead fish, which I’d never heard of but the server’s face melted when he described it and I quickly learned why. Jumbo lump crab on top with asparagus, crispy capers, Meyer lemon, and brown butter. The plan was to swap meals so we could try both, but we had trouble giving up our plates. This night was off to a great start. We’re feeling so good we order dessert. Samoa: Coconut sorbet, chocolate shell, coconut shortbread, caramel drizzle.
Grinning like fools we roll ourselves down the street to get in line at Preservation Hall—a live jazz band that’s been killin’ it since 1961. It’s in this tiny room—about 90 people or so squeeze in. We preordered our tickets so we didn’t have to stand in line, but chatting with people before the show was way more fun. We meet a couple from Michigan who want to take us sailing and a 75-year-old principal from Georgia who still loves her job. Karl had walked off to take photos when finally the principal says, “wonder who that is talking to my husband over there?” It was…Karl. Because now he talks to people, too.
We had a blast. The music was fantastic and the band was fun. Especially the trombone player.
Spilling back into the chaos of the French Quarter we start wandering away from the crowds and end up in a new area with new and interesting people.
Places & Things & Pictures & Words 
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