Do You Have A New Orleans Accent?

Flags that have flown over New Orleans

It seems we are going to get into a rut of starting each installment with a quotation.  Let's get that part out of the way and start with a quote from the late, great Wolcott Gibbs who was giving advice to New Yorker editor Katherine White when he wrote the following in 1937.

Quoth Gibbs:

"This magazine is on the whole liberal about expletives. The only test I know of is whether or not they are really essential to the author's effect. "Son of a bitch," "bastard" and many others can be used whenever it is the editor's judgment that that is the only possible remark under the circumstances. When they are gratuitous, when the writer is just trying to sound tough to no especial purpose, they come out."

This blog is not particularly liberal about expletives, as regular readers have no doubt noticed.  Your humble narrator deplores the general coarsening of public dialogue and culture (with all apologies in advance to future President Trump) and he eschews salty language and "sailor talk."

Now, with that out of the way, let's start a genteel conversation over tea and crumpets and cucumber sandwiches with the crust cut off---

The New Orleans accent is as varied and mysterious to most people as are most other things in this wonderful city Frau Schmitt and I call home.  Some people arrive expecting to hear a Southern drawl. They are soon disappointed.

New Orleans is located in the South, but it isn't really part of the South.  It is its own island.  New Orleans is a predominantly Roman Catholic city, especially the part in which we live, but that doesn't mean it is part of the Bible Belt.  As a long-established major port city, New Orleans' polyglot population has interbred and intermixed and juxtaposed its myriad tongues into a form of speech that can be heard elsewhere in other port cities, but not in the rest of the South.

You'll read that a New Orleans accent most closely approximates a Brooklyn accent, and that is true much of the time.  My accent, which comes by way of the New York side of Connecticut, sounds enough like a New York accent that some people mistake me for a transplanted Manhattanite.  In some parts of New Orleans, though, I'm mistook for a native.

Notice that I said I am mistaken for a native in some parts of New Orleans.  In other parts of the city I'm mistaken for an Englishman. The city is a Pandora's box of accents depending upon in which neighborhood you land.  When Frau Schmitt and I first visited the Lower 9th Ward, we could barely understand what anyone was telling us.  The accent there is that different.  The same can be said in Gert Town, in Zion City, in the East, in Versailles, in Uptown, and in the Irish Channel.  Don't even get me started on Yat Speak.

Frau Schmitt, who heralds from Hamburg (that's a port city in Germany that you may have heard of) always tells people we moved here from Boston, which is true.  People from here always say when she says that, "I thought you had a different accent from here."  They never question that she isn't originally from Boston.  Boston may as well be on the moon.  In a lot of ways, it is, from a New Orleanian's vantage.



We know where we come from.  Our destination is clear.  We keep our word in faith, not in fear.  You can call us classical, modern, or retro as long as you never consider us so-so.

Like the Free and Hanseatic City of Hamburg (Frie und Hansastädt Hamburg), New Orleans has salt on its tongue and our river is might.

If you can't get to Hamburg, you can always follow your Nola.



If you aren't particularly interested in slick commercials trying to sell you a vision of the city you're visiting, you can stay with us.  Believe me, there is a physical New Orleans in which we all live, and then there is also a New Orleans of the mind.  Find the best of both worlds on Esplanade Avenue.  Think about staying at La Belle Esplanade where you can talk like you want to and say what you mean----just say it with the same mouth you use to kiss ya mamma.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade
Where every morning is a curated breakfast salon.

Some Statues on Poydras Street

The Superdome on Poydras Street, New Orleans, LA

Regular readers of this blog know that your humble narrator's disinterest in abstract sculpture is well-entrenched.  For those of you who are tuning in for the first time, two entries ago involved a hard-hitting exposé of the debate over removing the monuments celebrating the Confederacy in New Orleans.  I ended that installment by saying that, while I don't have much invested in the fight, not being particularly for or against either side of the kerfuffle, my main concern is what will replace the statues of Robert E. Lee, Jefferson Davis, and P.G.T. Beauregard.  

The Battle of Liberty Place monument probably should be consigned to history's scrap heap.  

Looking to see what artistic marvels might replace the bronze statues of the three Confederate heroes, a good place to look would be Poydras Street.  The Poydras Street neutral ground is replete with examples of the kind of contemporary sculpture that is usually found in public spaces.  I'm not looking forward to seeing any of it in General Beauregard's place at the end of Esplanade Avenue.

Pink bunny on Poydras Street, New Orleans, LA

Exhibit A is the pink bunny on Poydras street.  If this were in some children's playground or other innocuous space, I probably wouldn't mind it so much, but it's not.  This sculptural fluff is in a place where it is seen by thousands and thousands of people a year in a very prominent place.  What place is that?

In front of the Mercedes-Benz Superdome

It's right in front of the Superdome.  Sheesh.  Regular readers also know that I don't follow sports so it's not like I have strong feelings about dishonoring the New Orleans Saints or anything, but, really? An abstract metal pink bunny in front of the Superdome?  Why?  What gives here?  I must be obtuse.

I'll give the pink bunny one point: at least I know what it's supposed to be.  Not many people can say that about the other sculptures in the Poydras Street neutral ground.  Shall we take a gander at Exhibit B?

Abstract sculpture on Poydras Street, New Orleans, LA

Howzabout Exhibit C?  Another whatzit:

A pile of chrome on Poydras Street, New Orleans, LA

I'm not going to catalog all the abstract sculpture on Poydras Street.  If you live in a city with a well-intentioned public art program, you've puzzled over plenty of this stuff already.  We're not talking about the Cloud Gate in Chicago here.  The subject under consideration is the usual bunch of half-baked junk welded together with a statement of intent to justify its existence in our sight lines.  I know these are harsh words, but, really, I wouldn't mind getting in on that racket.  I need to buy an acetylene torch.

Lest you think I'm just a philistine who frets over abstract art, there are also some realistic sculptures on Poydras Street.  Let's look at the latest additions to New Orleans' inspiring streetscape, shall we?

One half

The other half

These two ladies in bathing caps and bathing suits face each other over a break in the Poydras Street neutral ground where cars make U-turns. They are made of resin and oil.  Here's a look at the artist's statement in front of the one in the black bathing suit.

Carole Feuerman, Kendall Island, Poydras Street, New Orleans, LA

I know it's a bit small to read.  Here's what the last bit says:

"While their outward appearance is often beauty and tranquility, these elegant faces mask a deeper meaning of heroism, endurance and triumph; they are survivors, like the many faces of New Orleans' citizens who braved the hurricane."  

Now, I've read a lot of twaddle in my day.  Regular readers know I've written my fair share of twaddle, too.  This blurb I've just quoted seems to stretch a bit too far for my personal taste.  I assume the hurricane in question is Hurricane Katrina, not Betsy, Ike or Isaac, or any other hurricane that has struck the city that I'm not naming.  What any of those storms have to do with two women in bathing suits and bathing caps with their eyes closed---you got me----I don't know.  Like I say, it seems to be a bit of a stretch.

One half

The other half

Maybe I'm just some yahoo who can't appreciate the finer parts about the fine arts.  You know what my favorite thing of these statues is?  It's that people put Mardi Gras beads around their necks.  They need more beads, a lot more.  

As I was taking the above photos, another guy came up next to me.  Traffic was pretty slow at that point.  No cars were making a U-turn so we had the vantage point to ourselves.  He said, "These are some pretty weird statues, aren't they?"  He said it, I didn't. 

Maybe they could go on top of the pedestal in Lee Circle instead of Robert E. Lee.  Be careful what you wish for.  

Robert E. Lee statue, Lee Circle, New Orleans, LA

If these two bathing beauties, or, these two heroically tranquil and enduringly triumphant bathing survivors, if you prefer, were up that high, how would someone be able to drape them with Mardi Gras beads?  As you know, I'm in favor of more beads.  That's a trade off I'm not willing to endorse.

If you want to know more about the public artwork in our fair city, Frau Schmitt and I are always happy to discuss it over breakfast.  We know where all the best statues are, and most of the lesser ones, too.

À votre santé,

La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.

Whiz Bang New Orleans

The uptown side of Canal Street, riverside of Carrollton Ave.

This is going to be one whiz-bang of a post as the opening photo hints.  Apparently, when I took pictures of Blue Dot Donuts the other day I also took a lot of photos while walking our dog through the neighborhood.  It isn't the most exciting part of town, but, like most parts of New Orleans, it's interesting enough.  Of course, I live here.  I find our city endlessly fascinating.

When I was picking up pastries this morning, I overheard someone standing in line say to someone else, "A pretty face can hide and evil mind."  I thought of one of my theme songs:



And, only because I like to write it this way, that song's title is: 

Secret---AGENT MAN!! 

I'm often mistaken for a man of mystery as I take the motor scooter out picking up fresh bread and pastries every morning.  One morning, one of the girls at Blue Dot Donuts said, "You must love these bacon maple johnny logs."  I had to admit that I've never eaten one.  They're for our guests.  Who can eat that many bacon donuts?  Well, I guess a lot of people can.  Then a fully dressed shrimp po' boy for lunch.

When you live in New Orleans, people from elsewhere think we walk down the street with a shrimp po' boy in one hand and a trumpet in the other.  I don't know how to play the trumpet.

I did just order an ocarina from Amazon.  I don't have enough hobbies.  It turns out the ocarina I ordered has some tie-in with The Legend of Zelda, which I understand is a video game of which I have no knowledge whatsoever.  As Frau Schmitt will tell you, I am an old fuddy-duddy.  She is usually right about these things.

This Canal Street Building is for sale

Canal Street used to be the most glorious shopping street in the South, as the Chamber of Commerce likes to brag.  All the big old-looking hotels on Canal Street towards the river used to be department stores.  Further lakeside, the architecture is a collection of 1920s manors and bungalows, and a smattering of modernist office buildings constructed in the 1950s and 60s.  It's a very interesting streetscape if you are interested in urban studies.  Canal Street was supposed to be the main business street, hence the modernist office buildings.  During the late 1970s, it was decided that Poydras Street would be the main business street in the city and that's why the tall office skyscrapers are on Poydras Street.  

Poydras Street is not very interesting for me.  When people stay at Le Pavilion Hotel, which is a beautiful building, they ask me what there is to do on Poydras Street.  My answer: "Not much."  That's changing now as some new apartment buildings are being built where there used to be parking lots, but the area still doesn't interest me much.  If you've been to another American city, you've been to that part of town.  If you want to eat at Jimmie John's or Jamba Juice, you can stay home and do that.   I have nothing against those places, or against whatever big city you live near, but you don't come to New Orleans for that.  




You could go to Memphis.

*****

Louisiana Running Company, Canal Street, New Orleans

Those are shoes handing under the Louisiana Running Company sign.  I have a close-up picture of them, but it's a picture of shoes.  I've limited myself to five illustrations for this post.

Someone wrote to me today asking if we accept guests who are 13 years of age.  The answer was yes.  We do not accept guests who are younger than 13.  I would think it should be needless to say, but I'm going to say it anyway because one never knows, guests under the age of 18 must be accompanied by at least one adult.

My ignorance of video games notwithstanding (I am an old fuddy-duddy, after all), I imagine that our inn could be very interesting to a 13 year old boy.  Not that I would encourage him to wander the lobby unattended, but there are a lot of interesting and offbeat things in the lobby, the kind of things that fire a person's imagination.  As Frau Schmitt will tell you, and she is usually right about these things, your humble narrator is an arrested adolescent in many of his preoccupations.  To see the world through the eyes of a child...  New Orleans is a magical place.  I wouldn't take a young lad to some parts of Bourbon Street, but New Orleans is a place in which one's imagination can be set free.  It is a city of wonder.

Let's change the soundtrack:

Quite the change, eh?  That's one part of Bourbon Street.  I heard that song the other morning out of one of the clubs when I was walking our dog after picking up croissants and baguettes at Croissant d'Or.  That's what made me think of it.

I can hear you, "Waitaminnut?  You were picking up pastries at 6:30 in the morning and the clubs were blaring music out the front doors?"

Welcome to New Orleans.  That's the French Quarter for you.

Of course, our house is within walking distance of the French Quarter, but ours is overall a quiet neighborhood.  There's traffic on the street on Friday and Saturday nights, but then things quiet down after 11:00.  Other nights, it's very peaceful around the clock.  At about 3 or 4 AM, if you're awake, you'll hear distant train whistles and tug boat horns.  I like it when I'm awake at that hour, listening to the nation's port going about its business in the wee small time before everyone rouses themselves for fresh daytime adventures.

Sometimes, if you're lucky, at around 5 or 6, a couple of crows will roost in the oak trees in front of our house and have a conversation for a few minutes.  They're neighbors.  Nobody minds.

Sofas & Chairs & More, Canal Street, New Orleans, LA

I like how Sofas & Chairs, Inc. doesn't leave the "and more" part of what they sell up to your imagination.  If you can't figure it out, they sell lamps too.  I always admire this sign.  It clean and crisp and uses the lack of a show window to admirable effect.  Maybe you want to shop for a sofa when you're in New Orleans.  I should pop in soon and see if they'll ship.

And that concludes this installment and I know what you're thinking.  I promised five photos to illustrate today's rambling musings.  Fear not, I've got one in reserve.  This is a restaurant on North Carrollton Avenue, a few blocks downtown of Canal Street.  We have eaten at over 300 restaurants in New Orleans but we haven't eaten on this one yet.  We're waiting for one of our guests to try it out to tell us how it is:

Yummy Yummy, North Carrollton Ave, New Orleans, LA

You didn't come to New Orleans to eat Chinese food, did you?  Maybe you did.  I'm not here to judge.  As innkeepers, our job is make sure you enjoy the city according to what interests you.  They do offer a full lunch buffet.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.

Old Time New Orleans Transportation

Pickup truck outside Castellon Pharmacy

We were in Carrollton the other day for lunch.  Carrollton is on the other side of New Orleans from us.  It used to be the capitol of Jefferson Parish, which is the parish right next to Orleans Parish.  

We don't go to Castellon Pharmacy, which is in Carrollton, because, to be honest, it's just too far away.  It's owned and operated by a registered pharmacist instead of a national conglomerate chain, which is a plus in my book, but we have a pharmacy around the corner from us that is likewise owned and operated by registered pharmacists.  They're the nicest pharmacists you'll ever meet. 

What caught my eye at Castellon Pharmacy was the old pickup truck parked in the lot.  It wasn't the only old car there, either.  There was another one.

Truck parked on Oak Street, New Orleans

I don't think these are delivery trucks.  I have no idea why they were parked where they were.  It was just one of those things that you happen to see when you travel around New Orleans.  It wasn't ordinary, but there was nothing out of the ordinary, either.  Something went wrong with this world when they stopped making auto bodies out of wood.

It was like seeing a streetcar, which is how plenty of people get around town.

New Orleans streetcar

The St. Charles Avenue streetcars were built in the 1920s.  They're still running.  There's no reason to replace them.  They aren't quick, but nothing in New Orleans is speedy.  The St. Charles line runs along the most beautiful street in the city.  When people ask me what's the one thing I think they should do, I tell them they should take the St. Charles streetcar.  We live on a beautiful street, but it is only the second most beautiful street in New Orleans.  I am forced to admit it: St. Charles Avenue is the most beautiful street.

So, anyhow, I started out saying we went to Carrollton for lunch.  Here's the panoramic view out the window from the booth we were sitting in:

View of Carrollton Ave, New Orleans

Carrollton Avenue is a pretty street, too, but it isn't as beautiful as St. Charles Ave. and it isn't as beautiful as Esplanade Ave., either.  I'm biased, but Frau Schmitt agrees with me and she is usually right about these things.

We live in a beautiful city that's full of surprises.  Someday, we hope you'll have a chance to see it for yourself.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.

New Orleans Train Station: Union Station

New Orleans Train Station

Yep, the train station in the largest city in the South at the time it was built is called Union Passenger Terminal.  How many cities have a Union Station?  Probably just as many that had trains visiting them regularly.  It isn't the greatest name.  By New Orleans standards it's really rather dull.  I would have preferred Destiny Station, or Humanity Station.  

I wasn't alive at the time, though, not that anyone in charge would have asked me anyway.  They could have had a contest, though, like they did when they named the Pelicans.

I was going to put a picture of the Pelicans logo here, but they're a member of the NBA and it's licensed.  I don't want to pay a fee.

The New Orleans Union Passenger Terminal (that's an example of a little keyword stuffing there), was built in the 1950s.  It's a rather interesting story of how it got built and why, but we don't have the space here to go into the details.  What this post is about is the murals in the waiting area.  Get ready...

Mural in the New Orleans train station

I think the artist was depressed or schizophrenic.  When I walk through the main concourse of the New Orleans Union Passenger Terminal, I get the heebie-jeebies.  

Another mural in the New Orleans train station

I don't know who approved these.  A committee that didn't care, perhaps.  They aren't very welcoming.  I'm not going to zoom into any details.  Everyone depicted looks either like they're in pain or they're going to suffer a nervous breakdown.  Hey, modern art!

One of the more nonsensical mural in the New Orleans train station

Most of the themes depict periods in New Orleans history, complete with lynchings, murders, and an overall air of anxiety.  In some ways, it's a relief from the usual jaunty Mardi Gras maskers and bug-eyed Louis Armstrong portraits, but not that welcome.  I, for one, would prefer something a little more upbeat.  Everyone looks sick and hungover.  It isn't art for the queasy.

Mural depicting death in the New Orleans train station

Welcome to New Orleans, folks!  I think a total of three trains arrive every day, and three trains depart.  I took a picture of the posted train schedule, which is made of press on letters like you see outside a hotel conference room.  

Schedule in New Orleans Union Station

No clacking signs being updated as the trains come and go.  It's pretty quiet in there.  Just as well.  I feel sorry for the Amtrak agents who have to work there.  Then again, they get to look at posters like this, which I think is very nice:

City of New Orleans poster

Hey!  There's Louis Armstrong!  You can buy that poster from Amtrak if you want to.  It's only ten dollars, which is a very nice price.  

Well, that's all I have to say about the train station.  Tune in next time and I'll be adding to my reviews of the New Orleans Wax Museum.  I know I keep saying that.  It's my way of building suspense.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.

The Best Oysters in New Orleans

A house in downtown New Orleans

In New Orleans, "downtown" is downriver of Canal Street.  "Uptown" is the other side of Canal Street.  Every street changes its name when it crosses Canal Street.  Sometimes it's as simple as South Galvez Street becoming North Galvez Street.  Other times, it becomes as complicated as Bourbon Street becoming Carondolet Street.  We actually have to talk about Carondolet Street fairly often.  It's where the first stop on the St. Charles Avenue streetcar is.  It can get confusing.

What most people call Downtown is actually called the CBD, which is shorthand for Central Business District.  That seems to be Louisiana shorthand.  I've seen signs for the Metarie CBD, and the Mandeville CBD, and the Pontchatoula CBD.  It must make visitors to Pontchatoula (Strawberry Capitol of the World) scratch their heads, because the only business conducted in downtown Pontchatoula year round is the sale of antiques in some dusty storefronts (no offense to the good people of Pontchatoula intended, of course).

Union Station, New Orleans, LA

A lot of people ask me for directions while I'm out on my daily errands.  Some people say your humble narrator has an honest face.  I was walking past the train station (uptown) the other day when a guy with a map asked me where Sedgley is.  I assumed he meant Sedgley Street, which is a street I've never heard of.

"According to this map," he said, "Sedgley is right between Wolverhampton and Dudley."  

"I've never heard of any of those streets and I know a lot of street names," I said.  I do, too.  I've been reading Hope and New Orleans, A History of Crescent City Street Names by Sally Asher.  It's an interesting book, along the lines of Frenchmen, Desire, Godchildren...and Other New Orleans Streets by John Chase.  

Something seemed fishy about what this guy was looking for so I asked to take a look at the map he was holding.  No wonder.  It was a map of the English West Midlands.  You never know who you're going to meet in New Orleans.  I told him it was too far to walk to Sedgley, but I did know where the best oysters in town are.

The best oysters in New Orleans are at Casamento's.  It's uptown, on Magazine Street just before Napoleon Avenue.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.

Christmas in New Orleans

A festive view

I noticed this morning that our neighbor in the green house put some garland and bows on her balcony.  It looks nice.  We'll be doing something similar next year.  We haven't been decorating for the season, but that's going to change.  

Mardi Gras is the biggest holiday in New Orleans, celebrated by people of all faiths and none at all.  Christmas comes in second as the most visible holiday in the city.  Why not?

Not your typical Christmas picture

It's a very Catholic city.  It has been since it was founded.  Don't let appearances fool you.  Christmas is a big deal.  Even on Bourbon Street where the Devil pretty much has the run of the place.

Just a short entry today because I have things to do.  I know content has been a bit skimpy the past two weeks and I apologize to our regular readers.  Fear not.  I'll be back on schedule next week.

What's a post about Christmas without mention of toys?  You know what I always say about New Orleans, that you never know what you'll find when you turn a corner.  Frau Schmitt and I had a late breakfast a few days ago at Biscuits and Buns on Banks.  We parked our scooters on South Alexander Street, and this is what I saw as we left:

Prince Charming doll on a piece of cinder block

Who knows why?  It's just one of those things.

Happy Christmas from your humble narrator, Frau Schmitt and, of course, from Tammie the Housekeeper, your friends at La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.

À votre santé.

Tammy the Housekeeper

La Belle Esplanade. 

Walking in New Orleans

Bed in our Clio Suite

We made some new acquaintances this past weekend who used our inn as their headquarters to make a walking exploration of this magical city we call home.  Why not?  Frau Schmitt and I walk everywhere, and not just because we have to walk our dog.  We walk our neighborhood because, as I say to everyone on the introductory tours of our garden, I find it endlessly fascinating.

I live here.  We've lived here for four and a half years now.  We still have the zeal of converts.  There are so many details, everything seems ever new.  If any of this sounds familiar to regular readers, it's because I haven't changed my mind about how much I am in love with New Orleans.  I wouldn't be a good innkeeper if I had.  

I understand that there are innkeepers who have a negative attitude about New Orleans; at least, they have a negative opinion of any neighborhood that isn't their's.  Where they live is safe.  Everywhere else, well: There Be Dragons.  Beware.

A view of our dining room

I've never come across a cannibal in all my walks about New Orleans.  That doesn't mean they aren't out there.  It only means that they are as rare as yellow-bellied sapsuckers.

I've never seen one of these.
Photo courtesy of wikipedia

There are many parts to New Orleans.  Many neighborhoods.  I don't recommend staying with us if you want to spend most of your time Uptown.  Uptown is the other side of Canal Street.  It's the American part of the city.  Esplanade Avenue is Downtown, in the Creole part of the city.  It's all New Orleans, but the two halves are very different----which is to say nothing of Algiers on the other side of the river.

You can visit Uptown if you stay with us.  Plenty of people do.  Everybody does, really, but if you stay with us, your focus should be Downtown.  Uptown, in our estimation, is a place to visit, not a place in which to stay.  YMMV.

Some of our front windows

From our house, you can walk to the French Quarter and Frenchmen Street, of course.  You can also walk to City Park and the New Orleans Museum of Art.  Further afield, off Esplanade Ridge proper, you can explore Tremé, the 7th Ward, Mid-City, and the neighborhood that is called City Park.  All of this comfortably on foot.  Most people don't do this, but those that do come back with stories that make everyone else in the room wish they had gone along for the stroll.

It's a fascinating city we live in.

When you walk around New Orleans, you'll find everyone is friendly.  Everyone says hello.  If you find yourself lost, just ask for directions.  New Orleanians know their city is confusing and they're happy to help you find your way.  It's a wonderful place in which to find oneself lost.  Home is where the heart is, and many people say that this is the first place where they felt they had nothing to fear.  Plenty of other people say the opposite, but they don't stay with us. They stay in the French Quarter.  

I would like to give another shout-out, yet again, to the Rose Manor Inn, in New Orleans' West End neighborhood.  It's a bit out of the way, but everything I know about this inn makes me respect it all the more.  They're in a different spot, out on the edge of town.  Not that there isn't anything to do there---there's plenty, and it's a historic and interesting neighborhood.  It's different from Esplanade Ridge, but there's no harm in that.  The innkeepers are top notch.  

If we happen to be full, which happens more and more these days, think about staying at the Rose Manor Inn.  Read their website, read their reviews on Trip Advisor.  Know in advance that you will be nowhere near the French Quarter.  We're not in the French Quarter, either.  If you choose to stay at the Rose Manor Inn, I predict you'll be pleasantly surprised.  You'll see a different part of New Orleans that most people never see.  There is something magnificent to be said for that.  We inhabit a magical city.

Looking lakeside on Esplanade Avenue

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.

City of Champions

Portrait of Pic Aveno

It's always a pleasure to wander around the New Orleans Athletic Club.  It's full of mementos from the club's long and storied history.  Unfortunately, the club is only open to members.  It's a common charade for people to pretend they want to join in order to get a free tour of the place.  I'm not recommending anyone do this, mind you, but we do know people who have done it. 

Of the many portraits that hang in the NOAC's hallowed halls, is the picture of Pic Aveno.  It always catches my eye because the photograph is askew in its frame and I think its a shame that nobody has fixed this.  I would volunteer to do it myself, but they probably field enough suggestions from crackpots.

Here's what the plaque on the frame says:

New Orleans history

"Henry L. "Pic" Aveno.  The Y.M.C.A. and South's greatest amateur wrestler.  1905-06-07-08-09-10.  Died August 29, 1985."

He lived to a ripe old age.  See what exercise can do for you?

We don't think any of our guests have pretended to want to join the NOAC just to see the inside, and don't you do it.  It's a busy place.

As far as we know, none of our guests have gone inside the Entergy office on the corner of Canal Street and South Jefferson Davis Parkway.  There's really no need unless you live here.  It's the power company, both electricity and natural gas.  Allow me to show you what it's like to live here:

Inside the Entergy Office, New Orleans

I've been lucky enough to have gone in three times in four years, the last two times were in the past two days.  Lucky me.  Everyone who works there is a joy to talk to.  

I like to go before noon because there's usually an older gentleman who sets up a folding TV tray next to his folding chair on the sidewalk by the entrance.  He's selling pralines.  I assume his wife makes them, but, of course, in New Orleans it's no shame for a man to make good pralines.  

We've eaten a lot of pralines over the two years we've been innkeepers.  That's why we always serve Loretta's.  I had a nice chat with Loretta this morning but I forgot to take a picture of her shop.

There's always next time.  After all, sweet memories are made in New Orleans.

A votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.

Colors of New Orleans

Sign on North Broad Avenue

I had something to do, so I headed uptown on North Broad Avenue.  I once remarked to Frau Schmitt that North Broad is our main street.  We're always taking it to get somewhere and we always take it on the way home.

Pink building, North Broad Avenue, New Orleans, LA

For many moons, the building on the corner of North Broad and Toulouse Street has been a lot of colors, but it's never been pink and red until very recently.  It's maybe been four months.  The walls are pink and the roof is red.  The windows have lime green trim.  

What lies behind the green door?

I had the chance to talk to Sarah, who told me that it's going to be a kind of antique and artistic gift store, if I understood her correctly.  It seems to be a collaborative of seven women who are a part of the neighborhood.  A lot of them meet at the Fair Grinds Coffeehouse.  That tidbit didn't help me since I usually go to the Pagoda Cafe for coffee.  It's a big neighborhood.

Anyhow, I love the colors.  Every room in our inn is a different color.  Frau Schmitt likes to say, "You can't be afraid of color,"  and she is usually right about these things.  She also says she doesn't like the red with the pink, but I disagree with that.

As I was saying, I had an errand to run in Uptown.  I didn't see many colorful buildings Uptown.  I did see this one, however:

Napoleon Avenue, in Broadmoor

I thought it was a different house, but I wasn't disappointed when I parked my scooter in the Napoleon Avenue neutral ground.  I had to take a picture since I had my camera on me, so I temporarily blocked the Broadmoor Fine Arts and Wellness Trail.  Even though there wasn't anybody around, there is still a lot going on in Broadmoor.

What scooter was that?

The Black Bullet 

It was the scooter I was driving across New Orleans to pick up a loaf of  that pretzel-shaped olive bread at La Boulangerie.  That's a French bakery on Magazine Street.  It's the second weekend of Jazz Fest.  Everybody is in a good mood.

A votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast. 

An Esplanade Avenue Snapshot

Statue on Esplanade Avenue

There are three beautiful women who reside on the 2200 block of Esplanade Avenue.  One of them is Clio, Goddess of Peace and Genius of History.  Around hereabouts, her name is pronounced "kl-EYE-oh," though it would be pronounced "KLEE-oh" in most other places, including in Greece, where she would be referred to as the Muse of History, not the genius.

There are Nine Muses, of course, according to Greek mythology.  Each has a street named after her uptown in the Lower Garden District.  Clio: history, Calliope: epic poetry, Erato: lyric poetry, Euturpe: elegiac poetry, Melpomene: tragedy, Polyhymnia: hymns, Terpsichore: dance, Thalia: comedy, and Urania: astronomy.  The street named for Polyhymnia is shortened uptown to Polymnia.  The only ones that are pronounced in their original Greek are Erato and Urania.  Urania is only about two blocks long so nobody really says Urania very often, unless they know someone who lives there.

New Orleans is full of all sorts of confusing things and conundrums.  If you are from anywhere else, you would pronounce the name of our street "ess-plah-NAHD."  Here we say "ess-plan-AID."  Burgundy is "burr-GUN-dee," and Chartres is "charters."  You get the idea.  

It isn't only limited to pronunciation.  Our lobby is a cabinet of curiosities, full of odd exhibits of things I've picked up while wandering the city's streets.  For instance, most people think that squid are strictly saltwater animals.  In Louisiana, we have bayou squid, examples of which I keep in a jar in the lobby:

Bayou squid preserved in formaldehyde

Don't believe me?  Here's a closer look at the card:

Documentary evidence

"Article No. 67: Bayou Squid.  Captured from the Florida Avenue Canal on June 2, 2012."  

I was standing in front of our house when a tour bus paused next to the statue of Clio across the street.  They stop in front of our house all the time.  I don't know what the driver is telling his or her passengers.  Maybe he is telling them the history of the statue, which is the last artifact remaining from the 1884 World's Fair that was held in New Orleans.  I do know that flash bulbs are always going off on the side of the bus facing our house.  I always try to wave.  Hello.  I hope you're enjoying your VIP city tour.

The side of a tour bus in New Orleans

At this particular stop, the VIP tourists got to snap a picture of the other two beautiful women who reside on Esplanade Avenue.

Two more beautiful women on Esplanade Avenue

Frau Schmitt is going to be happy when she sees this.  We are both very proud of our sign.  

Our sign through the fence

Some people say that the lady on our sign resembles Tammie the Housekeeper.  There is a passing resemblance.  

La Belle de l'Avenue d'Esplanade

Tammie the Housekeeper

If you are still awake after reading this far, I know what you're thinking.  I started off this post by saying that three beautiful women reside on the 2200 block of Esplanade Avenue.  Doesn't Tammie the Housekeeper make four?

Tammie the Housekeeper only spends here workday here, if you can call it that.  When she sleeps after a long day's work, she sleeps in Metarie, across the border in Jefferson Parish.  She has a lovely family.  She doesn't really resemble the picture I always put up when her name is mentioned.  Tammie the Housekeeper doesn't smoke a pipe.  She does, however, like to complain whenever I use this picture.  You're welcome, Tammie.

As I've mentioned before, we got our sign made at Mystic Blue Signs, uptown on Magazine Street.  It's handmade by a lady who is a professional sign painter.  You don't find many sign painters anymore.  Then again, you find all kinds of things in New Orleans that you don't find anyplace else anymore.  It's an old city full of traditions.  It's a big city with a heart.  New Orleans has an old soul.

To give you a sense of scale of how tall our sign is, I'll put up one last picture.  I don't want Frau Schmitt or Tammie the Housekeeper to accuse me of being afraid of publishing my own ugly mug.  Shield your eyes...

A humble New Orleans innkeeper

Unlike Tammie the Housekeeper, your humble narrator is not ashamed of being seen clenching a pipe in his mouth.  Bienvenue.

A votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.