I guess the slight advantage of it being so cold while camping is that it certainly encourages me to get my ass out of bed. It was 6 degrees, so not too bad, and I was wearing plenty of clothes which certainly took the edge off it. I was starting to hum a bit since my last shower wasn’t since Tuesday and there wasn’t a shower in the Parkway campground but I was planning on making a hostel in New Orleans tonight. I cooked up some oatmeal and finished up my left-overs from the night before and carried on South West through the Parkway. I was looking for somewhere to grab a cup of coffee on the way but I would be waiting a long time for it. We were in the midst of a high pressure system so the sky was clear and the heater in my car soon got the chill out of my feet. Best to make the most of it since there was rain forecast for the weekend.

I pulled off the Parkway and out of the one lane highway I had been enjoying. It goes for a hundred miles between Jackson and Natchez and made a nice change from the hustle and bustle of the interstates. Occasionally there would be ‘historic markers’ which would tell a little about the local history and battles and the like in the area. I needed to get a move on South down to New Orleans so it would have to be the highway for some of it. I chanced upon a little town caller Tylertown and pulled up for groceries in the Sunflower supermarket. I had the usual discussion, or lack of, about the amount of plastic bags the clerks tried to give me. I just ask for one and he tries to double bag it anyway, seems everyone wants oil to be more expensive. My hypocrisy at driving all these pointless miles was eating at me too so I resolved to put up some posters in New Orleans and try to get some passengers.

I had a walk around the town to look for a café or diner but there was nothing. I could see a ‘Sonic’ restaurant chain down the road so after checking out a couple of pawn shops (I guess I wouldn’t need a license for the bear trap one of them had) I drove down and found it was a ‘drive through’ restaurant. Well, I went to the bathroom first and soon lost any desire to eat or drink there and got back on the road. Gross! I was glad I did, for only an hour or so down the road I was greeted with the ‘Welcome to Louisiana’ sign and cruised down the I-23 into my 16th state of the trip, and 40th US state in total. A few miles after that down in the town of Angie I saw a sign for Stuarts restaurant, promising home made cooking and no sign of a franchise in sight. They had stopped serving breakfast but I ordered a shrimp po-boy and the good ole boy in the table next to me told me what it was, a poor boys sandwich. This got him talking to the guys at the table across the way and they reminisced about food and places to eat. Seems a ‘hot sausage’ is the one to try if you eat meat in the south. I sat and sipped my coffee, listening to the people talk with their charming ‘singy songy’ accents, such a shame I was only passing through. The jukebox may be out of order and the tablecloths made of plastic but this was a real fine place to take a pause and the food turned out to be delicious. Deep battered shrimp served in a large French bread with salad, tomatoes and pickles, with a dash of Louisiana hot sauce on the side it was perfect slow food for a sunny southern day.

I dipped in and out of Louisiana and Mississippi as I rolled down to New Orleans, found a classic radio station to tap my hands to and followed the highway over the huge bridge they have into the Big Easy. It was about 4pm and I had to decide what I wanted to do for the weekend. I really needed to find some passengers to cut the cost of gas and save me from going insane. Or perhaps I just needed to stop more and talk to some people. Since I didn’t have a guidebook I put ‘Bourbon Street’ into the GPS which is where the waitress at Stuarts said she would be going later that night. She jogged my memory and I knew that was the party place and there would be wifi somewhere nearby. As I made my way there I could see the remnants of devastation from Katrina still very much in evidence. Boarded up wal-marts, wrecked houses, and the construction that was being done to remedy the situation with new housing estates along the highway and bulldozers shifting piles of earth around.

I ended up driving across Bourbon street in my search for a free net connection and could see this would be place to hang out later with music pumping all along the strip and people in advanced stages of getting very merry for the weekend. That would have to wait for me and I found my free connection and decided to abandon my ‘quest’ for a couple of days. I phoned the ‘India Hostel’ which admittedly doesn’t begin with an S but I was in advanced stages of bored and loneliness which only a hostel or couchsurfing meeting could allay. My previous checks of the CS sight didn’t make me really want to throw myself at the NO members and I needed to find someone who was free enough to hopefully come with me. A hostel it would be.

And a good choice it was too. It was only $17 for a dorm bed and the place was nice with real character. The kitchen could have done with some TLC but I was in the happy position of having all the gear I needed ready in the car and wasn’t that hungry anyway. I got on the wifi and started uploading some photos, a much needed connection. I also took a lovely long shower and felt like a new man! Bruce Willis’ brother (or twin), a guy called Matthew started chatting to me out on the porch of the hostel and then an English guy called Jeff turned up with some beers and I had found my friend for the night. He is on his way to South America in a couple of days and we chatted about travel and life for an hour until we decided it was time to hit the town. We picked up a visiting American called John and jumped on a trolley back down to Bourbon Street. We stood there waiting and chatting to another couple from the hostel, John and Jess, who had just arrived and were working as GPS route checkers so obviously I had a lot to say to them. Mostly complains about nearly getting shot thanks to my stolen software :p

Its nice to be able to carry a beer around in this city so that’s exactly what we did and set off in search of some action. It’s a long street and it takes longer when there are so many people to check out on the way and bands to glimpse in the bars and consider whether to go in or not. We made it to the end and headed back and then for some bad reason ended up in some bar with a pretty terrible couple of guys knocking out classics on their guitars and drinking ‘Big Ass Beer’. That’s what it said on the plastic cups but it tasted like it came from a big ass. Not good. I left John to his second attempt to chat up a blonde by the bar and went outside for some relief from the terrible music. It was more entertaining to chat to a couple of, frankly, Big Ass Americans outside. These guys were *huge* but friendly enough. Jeff had told me I looked like George Harrison and the Biggest Ass American then said I sounded like Paul McCartney and then that I actually looked like him. It took him a half an hour to realize when I said Paul was my least favourite Beatle that I had placed Ringo above him :p Not that bright either. After a pointless discussion about why his favourite Beatle, Paul, was a complete wanker I spotted Jess and John over the roads at their mini-GPS-meeting with half a dozen other colleagues who are all doing the same thing and went over there to make a nuisance of myself.

I don’t know why I’m not getting paid for what I do since they’re all doing the same as me only with a bit more structure. Apparently their data gets checked in Poland which is interesting. The other John and Jeff soon joined us and Jeff took quite a liking to Jess but it was not to be… You could see she was having a more interesting time with her co-worker, despite them passing each other all the time like proverbial cars in the night. Despite the terrible beer it was rather cool to just hang out on the street checking out the girls and talking the usual nonsense. I got into another pointless discussion with one of the GPS guys about US politics and had a thoroughly good time on it. John was quite desperate for some female action and highly suggestable to go with it which was great! “She’s nice!” he would say “Well go tell her that then!” I would reply and off he would go! John kept laughing as he slunk back each time but I said Jeff should be trying it himself and eventually, John didn’t come back :) We got a taxi back and I did the annoying ‘come in drunk and make your bed’ act in the dorm. I blame it on too many nights camping alone. New Orleans is cool!



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