The water here is very murky, so there wasn't really anything to see, but I did learn hopefully what I needed to learn about the adventure camera and full-face snorkel mask together. I can get about an hour and a half on one of my new batteries, but it will be in about 30-minute increments. I really don't understand why the camera restarts after 30 minutes, but it does it automatically, so I'm not overly concerned.
After resting, gambling, and playing with water toys, we headed west. First stop, New Orleans, the French Quarter. For some reason this trip, I was into the Voodoo priestesses/root workers of the south, and Marie Laveau is one of the tops. Because you cannot get into St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 without a guide, we decided to take a mule carriage ride around the Quarter. This ride included a tour of St. Louis Cemetery No. 1.
It started at Jackson Square in front of the St. Louis Cathedral. This is where we met Maya and the mule whose name I have forgotten. He was awesome with personality plus, but I just can't remember his name. I have Maya's business card, which is how I remember her name. The mule would plod at a regular pace except at certain areas, and he apparently didn't like those particular spots because he would trot through them, then drop back to his normal plodding pace. Maya said she just lets him take his pace, although sometimes, she had to scratch the top of the carriage cover to make noise to remind him the light was green. They use mules instead of horses because the mules tolerate the heat much better than the horses do. Maya has two mules that she swaps out so they don't have to work every day. He seemed to enjoy what he was doing, though he seemed a little bored with it. Remember those Le Dogs? The big headed ones making fun of the inability to take animal pictures? Well, meet Le Mule!
St. Louis Cathedral and the statue of Andrew Jackson are the focal points of Jackson Square. We didn't tour the cathedral this time, but I'll be back, and I'll catch it then.
The streets in the French Quarter are beautiful, and Maya pointed out many points of interest, both historical and touristy - such as the New Orleans School of Cooking with Fun, Food, and Folklore. I've checked their offerings. I do a mean okra gumbo, jambalaya, and creole already, but they have things on the menu that I don't recognize. I'm just going to have to take a class and sample some of those dishes while I learn to cook them! Or I may choose something that I know I like but have never made, like an alligator bisque or a creole ratatouille. Or I may do several of them, but I have every intention of doing at least one. Who's up to join me? It's coming up on the left.
After winding through several streets, we came upon St. Louis Cemetery No. 1.
Maya told us the cemetery is an active cemetery, and new remains are interred here regularly. Some of the family tombs are communal, meaning that the most recent body interred there lays in the top drawer until the next family member is due to be interred. At that point, assuming the last body interred has been there for the proper time (often considered a year and a day), the tomb is opened, the remnants of the casket are removed, and the remains of the last decedent are swept to the back of the tomb, where they fall to the bottom and commingle with the remains of others who were interred in the tomb before them. This is a common practice in oven-style tombs, like this one, in which the heat going through the concrete helps speed deterioration of the remains.
Families can pay for the church to maintain the tombs or they can maintain them on their own. If a tomb becomes neglected, but the family is not paying for maintenance, the church will provide very rudimentary repairs.
Being a member of certain groups, such as soldiers in the New Orleans Battalion of Artillery, who defeated the British in the Battle of New Orleans, or immigrants receiving the benevolence of certain groups, could get you a place in tombs maintained by these societies.
Nicholas Cage has built his private tomb with much Masonic symbolism, including that at particular times of the year at a specific time of day, the sun is supposed to perch just at the top of the pyramid.
All of this was very interesting, but the tomb I wanted to see was that of the Voodoo Queen herself, Marie Laveau. She is interred in the family tomb of her last lover, Christopher Glapion. Handsome Jack Paris is still nowhere to be found. He was the last man that "done gone". For those who don't get that one, you really need to listen to more Dr. Hook! Anyway, She is interred in this tomb. Her daughter, Marie Laveau II is not. It is illegal to drop tokens to her, but people do it anyway. I had a hair bow ready to drop for her, but the two little boys in our group were eyeballing a pocket knife someone had left. I didn't want to give them an excuse and couldn't find a moment that they weren't watching. Generally not like me to be a good role model, but sometimes crap happens.
We took the long way back to Jackson Square to see more sights. The mule jogged past Louis Armstrong Park, so I only got one halfway decent shot of the gates.
And we went past the Homer Plessy home, of "separate but equal", which was the law until Brown v Board of Education.
After the tour, we walked across the Square to the Gumbo Shop for lunch. I got the Creole Combo that gave me a sampling of my favorite creole dishes: red beans and rice, jambalaya, and shrimp creole. Bruce got the Seafood Okra Gumbo. Mine was awesome. Bruce could not find the okra in his, but it had a soft-shell crab in it. The waitress was adamant that he got what he ordered. Then, he heard the lady at the table beside us complaining that her gumbo had a lot of okra but no crab. He had a good chuckle out of it, but he said it was good anyway. After our late lunch, we did a little shopping and headed northwest.
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