N-O-L-A NOLA

Butchering the lyrics just to achieve a rather spurious blog title from: Lola by The Kinks

New Orleans

On the bus from Austin to New Orleans I had to endure possibly the worst journey yet - Lethal Weapon 4 was being played. Give me back the brain damaged and the fat guys with Swastika tattoos any day. I do perhaps get an easier ride on the buses than a lot of people, and I think I have it pinned down to one reason - everybody hates the beard. Ignoring that I don't have any gear to trim it down, and despite all the insults and questions about shaving it off before I come home, I've kept at it, and besides, growing a traveler's beard is a rite of passage. But having this beard has led numerous times to me having two seats to meself on the bus and not having to provide a head support to some drooling convict (I should point out that this is a not a sweeping statement to imply that all Greyhound passengers are drooling convicts - I'm well aware that not all convicts drool).

Louis Armstrong Park

Got off the bus in New Orleans nice and early and headed over to my hostel to ensure I had somewhere to sleep and to figure out where I was and what was going on in the real world (or on Facebook). Couldn't check in until after 4pm but I could use the internet. After half an hour sat in the front room, noticed a couple of bedbugs crawling over me top. Hadn't noticed that before, and with numerous reviews of the hostel complaining about bedbugs this didn't look like a good situation. Miraculously enough though I was now allowed to check in before 4pm; funny how that works. Started ironing, noticed how many seams there were in me shorts, gave up and decided to just throw them out and buy new clothes whilst monitoring the situation of other things such as me rucksack. For those people in DC, NY and back home, I'm pretty sure the bugs were in the chair and not the rug and so haven't gone into me rucksack, but I won't be offended if you demand all my stuff be isolated in dual heavy-duty bin-bags.

Garden District Cemetery

Onto the city itself. Had a walk around the first day while hoping that some CouchSurfing requests would come through before I had to go back to the bedbugs. It's on the water, it's a destination for stag dos, loads of shops selling tat and 'comedy' T-shirts, even more bars with neon lights competing with each other to offer the strongest novelty drink, and a number of strip clubs (3 Hustler clubs within 2 blocks) I've seen this before - Blackpool! Only in Blackpool the alligators have more leathery skin and wear sashes, cackling inanely as they're out on a hen night for the first time in over a decade. Also, the food is far worse in Blackpool.

Once away from Bourbon St. the nightlife becomes much more entertaining (assuming you need more stimulation than a drink in a neon green plastic container and a girl in or out of a bikini). I'm not really a fan of jazz, but some live music with some people swing-dancing makes an amazing atmosphere.

The Spotted Cat

Recently I've been feeling really tired. I just want to go home. There's a slightly different feel to things having stopped cycling - I'm now a tourist rather than a traveler. Not the biggest of differences, but I think subconsciously it makes you think about things in a different way. Going round all these tourist destinations you do the same things each time of seeing the usual suspects (big buildings, monuments, parks, museums, etc.). These places have a nightlife and to not experience it is to miss out on a major tourist activity so you go out for a few drinks every night. It's difficult to get away from the tourist hotspots as having done no research you don't know where the bad areas are or if you'll find what you're looking for even if you do go adventuring. As a break from routine, this is great; you can live the holiday excessive experience. But living it all the time so many things are put on for tourists and it's difficult to find a personal experience. I've talked previously about motel rooms offering the same experience wherever you go, and as an analogy, tourist destinations are the same. There's a lot more variation, but everything is still geared towards taking your money and the same methods are used. I'm really craving my own bed, curled up in a duvet hidden from the drizzle outside (I'm assuming it'll be drizzle back home - it is Manchester), being able to cook something as fancy or simple as I desire and paying for the things I need or want rather than parting with money for things I'm told I want and tipping for the privilege.

Not sure all this quite makes sense, but it's almost there. But rambling done - I've not got the focus or inclination to make it any better. I've got into a better mood than this morning as I've managed to sort out all accommodation to the end of the trip and after seeing nobody for over 4 months I'm hopefully seeing 5 familiar faces before heading home.