Friday, July 10, 2009

Looking for Stanley Kowalski

I spent today just walking around in the French Quarter. I left after breakfast, walked to Canal Street
and watched the Street Cleaner do his job. I'm sure it can't be easy cleaning the side walks of New Orleans.

I walked Canal Street to the River and then along the Riverwalk to Jackson Square.




By the time I got there, it was already very hot and I took a break in one of my favorite churches, St. Louis.
Inside the church it is always cool and calm, and the paintings on the ceiling are beautiful! My camera can't really pick up the details but it is an amazing sight.


After my little break I went out into the heat again and visited a couple of shops. Around noon I had beignets and lots of water at Cafe Du Monde. I should have been drinking coffee, but it was way too hot for something even hotter and besides, I don't like coffee. Cafe Du Monde is a "must" in New Orleans and I sat there and watched the people walk by and listened to the street musicians play Jazz. It's tradition - and who am I to mess with tradition?
Rested and ready for more, I walked back to Canal Street (and noticed my first blister on my foot) where I took the city bus all the way down Magazine Street to check out a yarn store. Hey, we all have our addictions! I spent some time there, talked to the people working there, checked out all the books they had and yes, I bought some yarn. Because - apparently I don't have enough. And besides, the sign in the store read: "She who dies with the most yarn wins". Not only do I not mess with tradition, I also don't argue with such obviously profound statements about yarn.
After all this walking and yarn buying I am back in my hotel room. I noticed another blister, this one on the other foot.
Since the hotel is so close to Canal Street I can hear the streetcars from my room. I don't know if one of them is called "Desire", but I was reminded of the play and the movie "A Streetcar named Desire". I don't think the look of New Orleans has changed much since Tennessee Williams wrote his play. Looking into the courtyards of these old houses, I half expected Stanley Kowalski standing at the foot of a staircase, calling for Stella. But alas, I did not find him.