The threat of violence

One of the things I've learned on this trip is that I just don't care for big cities. I don't care that there are eleven coffee shops within a three block radius. One would be enough even if I did drink coffee. I don't enjoy trendy restaurants more than simple ones. I couldn't care less about some hip new nightspot. Museums are nice but are they really worth all the noise and traffic?

Still, I was looking forward to seeing New Orleans; a city known for being unique and enjoyable. Sadly, the Big Easy didn't feel any different than other big cities for me. What I did feel was a sense of poverty and desperation. Part of it was the historic nature of N.O., part was the psychic aftermath of Katrina and part was feeling immediately identifiable as a tourist and possible mark. At 6'4" and 190 lbs., I rarely even think about my personal safety but in N.O. I just felt like a soft white boy who's had a desk job for the past ten years.

The man above threatened to have me beat up "by those guys over there" when I only gave him a dollar. I saw the sign from a distance and thought it was a street vendor with a sense of humor. I tried to take a quick picture while his back was turned and he was helping other customers. I forgot that the flash was on which made the camera take an extra second to fire just as he happened to be turning around. All it turns out he was selling was the right to take his picture. Fine....whatever. I'll give you a tip. He told us hold his sign while he took our picture and then said he accepted fives, tens and twenties. I told him I'm sure he did and gave him a buck for maybe 30 seconds worth of work. Then he started getting ugly.

The next morning Heather and I went to the St. Louis cemetery which is famous for its very old above-ground crypts. We specifically went in the morning rather than evening so it would be a bit safer. When we arrived, we found it to be in quite a bad neighborhood and even the morning didn't feel so safe. We walked around for maybe ten minutes before calling it quits. Well, I called it quits and Heather thought I was being a sissy. She's much tougher than I am. The cemetery itself was a bit of a disappointment to me as well; instead of aged and historic it was just old, crowded and in disrepair. Ehh...perhaps I would have enjoyed it more if I had been relaxed.

Bourbon Street was nice enough but it didn't feel much different than the main drag of a Spring Break town. I couldn't really appreciate the architecture or wrought-iron balconies in the dark of night. Didn't even see any boobies.

By the way, Heather is blogging too. You can follow her account at http://navigatingnewwaters.blogspot.com