We left Baton Rouge for the very straightforward drive to New Orleans. We’d researched places to stay, and decided to stay at a Harvest Hosts site, the Faubourg Brewery. From what we could see, almost any place anywhere near the city had questionable security, and there were reports of people’s bikes being stolen off the back of their vehicles, and harassment by local people, and all sorts of stuff we don’t want to do. Faubourg boasts a completely enclosed property, which has a gate locked to vehicles AND pedestrians from 8PM to 6AM every day. And, because we’re Harvest Host members, the first night is free, subsequent nights are only $20, and we get a 10% discount in the brewery for food and beer. So, we booked three nights and pulled up late in the afternoon on Sunday, in time for brews and dinner.
Faubourg Brewery has a huge parking lot, and room for a pretty much limitless number of RVs. We picked a spot, parked, and, because we were starving, went inside to forage. The staff was immediately super friendly and started offering us little cups of beer to sample, and when we decided on what we wanted, we got our pints and headed for the kitchen area, where we ordered food. Tom had a crab cake sandwich, which he said was okay, and I had crawfish poutine, which was out-of-this-world delicious. I ate past the point where I knew I should stop, to the point where I woke up at 4AM with an upset stomach. But, it was oh so worth it. The funny thing was that when I ordered, the cashier said they were out of it. After my totally crestfallen look, she told me to wait a minute and went in the back to talk to the chef. She came back and asked if I was okay if the chef made me a substitute dish, and when I pointed out that it was fine because I didn’t know what the real thing was supposed to be anyway, I got my order. After eating it, I have difficulty believing that whatever it was supposed to be could possibly be any better.
Faubourg Brewery has a huge parking lot, and room for a pretty much limitless number of RVs. We picked a spot, parked, and, because we were starving, went inside to forage. The staff was immediately super friendly and started offering us little cups of beer to sample, and when we decided on what we wanted, we got our pints and headed for the kitchen area, where we ordered food. Tom had a crab cake sandwich, which he said was okay, and I had crawfish poutine, which was out-of-this-world delicious. I ate past the point where I knew I should stop, to the point where I woke up at 4AM with an upset stomach. But, it was oh so worth it. The funny thing was that when I ordered, the cashier said they were out of it. After my totally crestfallen look, she told me to wait a minute and went in the back to talk to the chef. She came back and asked if I was okay if the chef made me a substitute dish, and when I pointed out that it was fine because I didn’t know what the real thing was supposed to be anyway, I got my order. After eating it, I have difficulty believing that whatever it was supposed to be could possibly be any better.
The view of the brewery from my kitchen window. It’s a big building!
Crawdad poutine.
The next day, when I was sure my stomach was recovered, we Lyfted into the French Quarter to meet my college friend Emma at Cafe Du Mond for coffee and beignets. The coffee and beignets totally lived up to their reputation, although it wouldn’t have really mattered if they didn’t since we had so much fun catching up on what we figured was 40 years. Emma, like us, has lived and worked all over the place, so after a lot of animated conversation about life, she took us shopping in the public market, where she was looking for a hat for a Mardi Gras party. She didn’t find a whole hat, but found some hat components, and Tom found a wallet, so after a successful shopping expedition we went back to Jackson Square to say goodbye, with assurances that we would keep in touch, at least through Facebook.
Emma and me in front of the Andrew Jackson statue in Jackson Park in front of the cathedral in the French Quarter of New Orleans.
Tom and I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the French Quarter, taking photos in Jackson Park, Bourbon Street, the historical Jazz Bars, and of the rest of the architecture, which reminded us a lot of parts of Guatemala. We thought that was weird, until Emma told us that the French and the Spanish traditionally handed New Orleans back and forth, when it made more sense that we could see the Spanish influence.
Typical French Quarter building.
Bourbon Street
One of the National Historical place jazz buildings. They’re all sort of a wreck, unfortunately.
The walk along the river
We had traditional New Orleans food in one of the French Quarter restaurants before heading back to the camper with plans to return the next day, today, to go to the World War II museum, take a walking tour, and possibly meet up with some friends who were coincidentally in the city. However, we woke up this morning to dire weather reports predicting high winds, torrential rains, and possible tornadoes. We still toyed with the idea of calling for. Lyft into the city, but finally decided that we’d feel really terrible if something happened and we were stuck in the city while the dogs, cat, and camper were over the canal at the brewery, so we decided to stay put for the day, wait for the bad weather to pass, and catch up on a bunch of stuff like blogging for me and a few work projects for Tom. As it turned out, the weather was pretty wretched and we probably wouldn’t have been very happy wandering around the city, so we were content with our decision.
In the middle of the afternoon, the Faubourg employee who manages the Harvest Hosts effort came knocking on our door, as well as the doors of the RVs parked near us. She wanted to make sure we were aware of the weather watches and warnings, and to tell us that we could do whatever we felt we needed to do to stay safe. We were aware and had in fact been following the weather all day, but apparently a number of our fellow campers had not and had no idea what was going on. I don’t think any of the RVs decided to leave, which was an option, although I have no idea where anybody would have gone since west and north would be running into the bad weather, south is the Gulf of Mexico so not an option, and east would be maybe, barely, staying ahead. A few of the RVs decided to just stay where they’ve been parked, but we and a number of others decided to cozy up to the building. Most of them stayed on the front side, which is nice right now because they are completely shielded from the wind. However, there is a long zinc roof over a loading dock on that side, which makes the Belizean in us very nervous since we know what zinc roofs do in high winds. So, we are all by ourselves on the south side of the building (the others are on the west), snuggled up to a cement wall with no zinc roofs in sight.
In the middle of the afternoon, the Faubourg employee who manages the Harvest Hosts effort came knocking on our door, as well as the doors of the RVs parked near us. She wanted to make sure we were aware of the weather watches and warnings, and to tell us that we could do whatever we felt we needed to do to stay safe. We were aware and had in fact been following the weather all day, but apparently a number of our fellow campers had not and had no idea what was going on. I don’t think any of the RVs decided to leave, which was an option, although I have no idea where anybody would have gone since west and north would be running into the bad weather, south is the Gulf of Mexico so not an option, and east would be maybe, barely, staying ahead. A few of the RVs decided to just stay where they’ve been parked, but we and a number of others decided to cozy up to the building. Most of them stayed on the front side, which is nice right now because they are completely shielded from the wind. However, there is a long zinc roof over a loading dock on that side, which makes the Belizean in us very nervous since we know what zinc roofs do in high winds. So, we are all by ourselves on the south side of the building (the others are on the west), snuggled up to a cement wall with no zinc roofs in sight.
We spent the evening in the brewery drinking beer and eating wings with the other campers, all of whom are in good spirits. We are, as we do, making friends with the employees, and I even gave the dregs of my bottle of Marie Sharp’s Smokin’ Marie’s hot sauce to the chef, who was shocked that I was scarfing down his honey habanero wings without breaking a sweat. He understood my nonchalance about the wing sauce after tasting the Smokin’ Marie’s, and we had a good laugh when he brought a sample out to one of his cooks, who wanted to know why in the hell the chef was trying to kill him. We’re hoping the chef will visit us in Belize, where we will drag him around to all of our favorite places to eat, as well as getting him all the ingredients and giving him free rein in my kitchen.
Tomorrow, provided the storms pass without too much destruction, we are heading west. We want to visit the Houston Space Center and revisit San Antonio and the missions on the way to Big Bend National Park, where we will be looking up the camp hosts we just met here tonight. Life on the road is not good - it is GREAT!
Tomorrow, provided the storms pass without too much destruction, we are heading west. We want to visit the Houston Space Center and revisit San Antonio and the missions on the way to Big Bend National Park, where we will be looking up the camp hosts we just met here tonight. Life on the road is not good - it is GREAT!