I thought I’d better get these pictures up. I’ve been back over a week. These are just a few of the pics I took while in New Orleans. My cousin, who lives in Seattle, decided to come south to visit, but to add a little fun, he asked if I’d join him in New Orleans, then drive up to Arkansas. I’ll jump on any excuse to go there, so I loaded up my mom and aunt and drove eight hours due south.
Eight hours is a long drive, but we took smaller highways rather than the interstate. The scenery was much more interesting. I couldn’t resist stopping to take a picture of the crimson clover blooming in the median.
That night, we didn’t have time for more than a quick stroll on Bourbon street (don’t ask me why I didn’t take any pictures there! I guess I was just tired!). However, the next morning while we waited for my aunt to get ready (she’s the slow poke), I took pics from our hotel balcony. We stayed in the St. Marie on Toulouse street. See the big white van? Well the street corner beyond that is Bourbon—so we weren’t far from all the action.
Another shot of the street below. I liked the colors.
While mom and auntie took a horse-drawn tour of the French Quarter, cuz and I took a 2-hour walking tour. Along the way to meet up with the tour, I snapped this shot on Royal.
Here I am waiting for it to begin. Our tour guide, Bill Coble, is behind me.
Cuz and I were very lucky in our choice of tours. The guide was born and raised in New Orleans. He knew its history and even told the story of one family as we navigated the Quarter that was full of romance, tragedy, family feuds and with a very nice twist at the end. Here’s one of the old houses we toured.
Of course, any tour of New Orleans must include a stop in its oldest cemetery, St. Louis Cemetery #1. It’s a little crowded.
Seems if you’re wealthy enough, you can still find space. Here’s Nic Cage’s family tomb—ready for occupancy!
This tomb is what draws me to the city. Marie Laveau, the famous voodoo queen, is still revered as you can see by the gifts and all the XXX’s scrawled on the outside by people hoping for a favor.
And just a plug, because I really, really think this man did an awesome job. If ever you go to New Orleans, look up Le Monde Creole and Insider’s French Quarter & Cemetery Tour. Bill is the owner.
We only spent a day touring, then headed out the next morning to return home to Arkansas. Just outside New Orleans, we got lost and took a wrong turn. We happened upon a large antique store and decided to stop. It was Kismet. Just inside the door, impossible to miss, was this large box. I paused to read the tag, “Anne Rice Vampire.” I glanced at the price, winced, then walked away.
My mother, who is a bargain hunter and the last person on the planet who would encourage anyone to spend big bucks on something like that, called me back. “Did you see this?”
“Yes, it’s too much.”
“Bet he’ll come down. Maybe he’ll do layaway.”
My heart started beating really fast, my skin grew flushed. And I wasn’t even sure what I was looking at.
The owner heard us talking and explained it was sold at Anne Rice’s estate sale when she moved out of her home in New Orleans. It was an antique vampire killing kit gifted to her during the time she was writing her vampire novels.
Well, Mom got him down—it still cost an arm and leg. But it’s MINE! I have it on a stool at the end of my bed. I need to make room for it on the side of desk. Then every time I run out of inspiration, I can give it a little rub.