NOLA, Naw-Leans, The Big Easy

Whatever you call it, it's AMAZING.  When I stepped foot into the French Quarter for the first time as an adult 10 years ago, I felt the history of this place wash over me like the ripples radiating from a stone dropped in a quiet lake.  As I walked the slate sidewalks, I thought of how many thousands, hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of feet had walked in this same space, perhaps on these same tiles.  Blew my mind.

After eating that fabulous food at Pierre Maspero's, we struck out through the Quarter. This place assaults the senses.  The sound of the wedding parade marching down the streets outside the restaurant.  The colorful scenes everywhere you look.  People from absolutely EVERY socioeconomic level in this country.  Narrow streets where cars fight with horse-drawn carriages and pedestrians to make headway.  Those poor UPS and FedEx drivers haven't got a chance.  I won't even mention the smells because, other than an occasional olfactory glimpse of food, the fragrances wafting their way through these streets aren't anywhere near delightful.  But that doesn't seem to diminish the attraction of this unique place.