30th of September 2007: Money Relief and a Last Fling
My money still hasn't cleared, so I finally get onto Barclays to find out what's going on, now really worried. I actually get some good news - my account wasn't drained after all! It's merely been blocked again by the damn overzealous fraud prevention department. After an interminable series of phone calls during which I am directed to multiple (unhelpful) departments, sent back to the same menu four times in a row while my calling card slowly runs out and at one point told that there's no way to unblock the card and a new one will be sent ot my (UK) address, a fraud department staffer unblocks the card with a ten minute procedure and a handful of security questions.
Jubilant and utterly relieved I pay my rent on the last two nights and celebrate with another shrimp po'boy from Mandina's, the previous one having been stolen from the fridge before I got to it. It's a remarkable and intimidatingly huge baguette sandwich stuffed full of fried breaded shrimps and great fresh salad, and extremely hard to eat but very very tasty indeed. My mood is further lifted.
In the evening I hang out and chill on the porch with Dave from Australia, a muscular rock fanatic with an amazing collection of beautifully designed tattoos, and Warren from New Zealand, a really sweet guy with indie-rock style and a thoughtful manner - they've both arrived in the last day. After some discussion we decide to hit Frenchman Street, where most of the best live music in the city is supposed to be located - it's the area where locals go for a night out, which has to be a recommendation. There are a couple of gigs on the board but we decide to just wander along and see what we like.
First we go up to Mandina's for food, and I get to introduce the guys to the amazing gumbo and sandwiches, plus a couple of bottles of Abita Amber. Then we wander down into town, stopping first at Daisy Dukes Restaurant/Bar on Chartres, where Jo works. She's one of two beautiful darkhaired Australian twins who work the desk at the hostel, keep the populace in line and break hearts left right and centre with consummate ease. They're a lot of fun to hang out with and at the centre of most of India House's social life and drinking excesses.
We have a pint in the near-deserted restaurant and chat with Jo, who's severely hung over and hasn't slept, having gone out on the town after the session round the pool last night. She gives us a couple of recommendations from places to drop in on the way to Frenchmen and we leave her to recover.
We try one of Jo's suggested spots, the Dungeon, just round the corner. It's a metal bar with a great jukebox and looks like it could be kicking but right now it's dead. In fact, town in general is incredibly quiet, and we wonder if we're going to find much to do at all.
Fortunately, when we reach it, Frenchmen is the exception. It's full of people and the row of bars are popping with live music and energetic crowds. We walk the length of the bars, listening at each door, and decide to settle on the first one we passed where a rock and blues band are hammering out some great tunes.
After a few Ambers and a good few tunes we decide to move on up the street and see what else is happening. On the way out of the door we encounter Emma, an indefatigably perky blond American who arrived last night and instantly became best friends with everyone in the hostel, and Molly, a small, very sweet English girl who looks meek but has an impressively caustic tongue when riled. Outside are more folks from the hostel just arriving - two Welsh girls, Ellie and Laura, Molly's boyfriend James, and a few others. We decide to join the party, everyone drags chairs round a table in front of the cafe where we can all hear the music and we order again.
It turns into a nice party, lots of good talk and joking around, and as the night rolls on we head back into town to see what's happening. As it seemed, the rest of town is pretty much dead, but by pure luck we happen on a bar with a good mix of music where the owner is celebrating his first weekend of opening, and offering free Amber on tap. The evening becomes slightly more rowdy after that and we all stagger back early in the morning rather the worse for wear.
Jubilant and utterly relieved I pay my rent on the last two nights and celebrate with another shrimp po'boy from Mandina's, the previous one having been stolen from the fridge before I got to it. It's a remarkable and intimidatingly huge baguette sandwich stuffed full of fried breaded shrimps and great fresh salad, and extremely hard to eat but very very tasty indeed. My mood is further lifted.
In the evening I hang out and chill on the porch with Dave from Australia, a muscular rock fanatic with an amazing collection of beautifully designed tattoos, and Warren from New Zealand, a really sweet guy with indie-rock style and a thoughtful manner - they've both arrived in the last day. After some discussion we decide to hit Frenchman Street, where most of the best live music in the city is supposed to be located - it's the area where locals go for a night out, which has to be a recommendation. There are a couple of gigs on the board but we decide to just wander along and see what we like.
First we go up to Mandina's for food, and I get to introduce the guys to the amazing gumbo and sandwiches, plus a couple of bottles of Abita Amber. Then we wander down into town, stopping first at Daisy Dukes Restaurant/Bar on Chartres, where Jo works. She's one of two beautiful darkhaired Australian twins who work the desk at the hostel, keep the populace in line and break hearts left right and centre with consummate ease. They're a lot of fun to hang out with and at the centre of most of India House's social life and drinking excesses.
We have a pint in the near-deserted restaurant and chat with Jo, who's severely hung over and hasn't slept, having gone out on the town after the session round the pool last night. She gives us a couple of recommendations from places to drop in on the way to Frenchmen and we leave her to recover.
We try one of Jo's suggested spots, the Dungeon, just round the corner. It's a metal bar with a great jukebox and looks like it could be kicking but right now it's dead. In fact, town in general is incredibly quiet, and we wonder if we're going to find much to do at all.
Fortunately, when we reach it, Frenchmen is the exception. It's full of people and the row of bars are popping with live music and energetic crowds. We walk the length of the bars, listening at each door, and decide to settle on the first one we passed where a rock and blues band are hammering out some great tunes.
After a few Ambers and a good few tunes we decide to move on up the street and see what else is happening. On the way out of the door we encounter Emma, an indefatigably perky blond American who arrived last night and instantly became best friends with everyone in the hostel, and Molly, a small, very sweet English girl who looks meek but has an impressively caustic tongue when riled. Outside are more folks from the hostel just arriving - two Welsh girls, Ellie and Laura, Molly's boyfriend James, and a few others. We decide to join the party, everyone drags chairs round a table in front of the cafe where we can all hear the music and we order again.
It turns into a nice party, lots of good talk and joking around, and as the night rolls on we head back into town to see what's happening. As it seemed, the rest of town is pretty much dead, but by pure luck we happen on a bar with a good mix of music where the owner is celebrating his first weekend of opening, and offering free Amber on tap. The evening becomes slightly more rowdy after that and we all stagger back early in the morning rather the worse for wear.
Labels: abita amber, daisy dukes, frenchman street, india house, mandina's, New Orleans, the dungeon
posted by Mark at
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