March 18, 2007: New Orleans, Louisiana.


Everything we read or heard about this place mentioned the out-of-control crime. It seems even to be a frequent topic of conversation among locals. Our RV park was two blocks north of the French Quarter, and the owner gave us a cab voucher for every night of our stay. He told us not to walk home at night under any circumstance. We asked around for confirmation of the danger and everyone, including our cab drivers, said they would never walk those two blocks at night. So we didn't either.


Jackson Square is named after our 7th President, who was the hero of the Battle of New Orleans in the War of 1812. The park is bustling with drunkards, dopey hippies, young families, tourists, and buskers.

Most of the buildings in the French Quarter actually date from when Spain ruled the city. The landmark Cafe du Monde serves coffee and beignets 24/7. It is always packed and the floor and tables are laden with powdered sugar.


We missed Mardi Gras by a few weeks but by St. Patrick's Day the folks here were ready for another parade. The parade was kinda lame, but the Garden District neighborhood it traveled through is lined with amazing old homes from the 1800s.