A Dog's Breakfast in New Orleans

A dog in New Orleans

Meggen and I are irregular correspondents.  She sometimes writes to me.  Who knows why?  She always says that your humble narrator makes her laugh.  I don't mean to.  Maybe I bring a smile to your face, too, gentle reader.  That isn't my intent.  This blog's mission is only to inform, not to entertain.  What it informs you about is a matter of conjecture on my part since I just make it up as I go along.

Let's start this ride, shall we?

I know why Meggen wrote to me the other day.  It was to tell me that La Belle Esplanade was featured on the front page of the website she runs, Find Everything Historic.  You can waste a lot of time there if you click the link I've provided.  

If you search for travel destinations on Find Everything Historic, you'll only find one listed in the great State of Louisiana.  Guess which one.  I like Meggen.  Frau Schmitt likes her, too, and Frau Schmitt is a shrewd judge of character.  

Find Everything Historic

Meggen also told me that she wants to feature our blog on her website.  I said that would be fine.  I said, "The blog is a real dog's breakfast, for what it is worth.  People seem to enjoy it.  If you feature our blog, make sure you call it a real dog's breakfast.  There's no point in wasting a good phrase."

Truer words were never typed in an email.

When I typed it, I didn't really know what a dog's breakfast is, except for something that a dog would eat, which can mean just about anything.  I looked it up on Urban Dictionary, which I don't normally visit since most of the things defined on it are things I would rather not think about.  According to Urban Dictionary, the phrase "dog's dinner" has the advantage of being more attractively alliterative (which, itself, is a phrase that is attractively alliterative), but I prefer dog's breakfast, which, truth be told, I've always associated with a dog eating its own vomit.

This went in an interesting direction.  Remember, I did just say I make these posts up as I go along.

Street vendor at a second line parade

I've said it before and I'll say it again, you never know what you'll find when you walk around New Orleans.  The city is a feast for the senses.  

I was talking to our guests from Washington State this morning.  They arrived yesterday.  They went to the French Quarter for their first day in the city, as most people do.  "It didn't smell very nice down there," they told me.  They're from Tacoma, WA.  I used to live in Tacoma so I'm familiar with "the Aroma of Tacoma."  The French Quarter doesn't smell anything like that.  The French Quarter smells like, well, there's no way to put it delicately, it smells like vomit and piss and overripe garbage.  

That doesn't sound very good, does it?  It is what it is.  The French Quarter is beautiful and it really is something to enjoy, all olfactory considerations aside.  It's like being transported back in time.  Believe me, the French Quarter smells the best it has in 300 years.  Imagine it with horses.  When you are in New Orleans, you aren't in Minneapolis anymore.  It's a different kind of city.  We live in the sub-tropics.

That explains everything.

A new B&B in New Orleans

The old Police Jail and Patrol Station on the corner of Dumaine and North Dorgenois Streets is being converted into a bed and breakfast.  It's an interesting neighborhood in which to undertake that project.  It's close by to us and we wish them the best of luck.  It's a beautiful building that deserves to be restored.  I should tell Meggen about it.  She loves everything historic.  Just in case you don't believe it's an old police jail and patrol station, I took a photo of the sign carved in stone over the front door.

New Orleans Police Jail and Patrol Station

You never know what you'll find in New Orleans when you turn a corner.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.