It’s not an exaggeration to observe that Nawlins has everything the eyeball could possibly feast on. A walking tour of the Cemetery as part of our ramble with Jane (the fast-talking and passionate guide) made the death of others a life-enhancing experience. You could almost feel the graves twitching as she described in great detail the old time (and gruesome) burial customs.
It was a revelation to be told that this was indeed the cemetery where two very stoned and tripped out bikers came to party at the end of the film Easy Rider – if any of you ageing hippies out there still have the brain cells to recall that (highly irregular) nocturnal visit. They asked no permission, Jane said, which upset the Catholic bishop of the day – well, they were making out amidst the graves with a couple of hookers.
In the movie, they rode away after Mardi Gras and got blown off their choppers for giving the finger to a couple of rednecks in a truck. It may not have set out to be a commentary on US gun culture, but it sure was prophetic, after a fashion. Fancy that: just escaping the ire of Rome by the skin of their leather pants, they run right into a couple of baddass Southern Baptists with a shotgun.
I walked my jandals off all day: breakfast in a classy backstreet cafe, the grand tour with Jane (Montana born, German mother, Cherokee-French father), a postering expedition to pin Janet Frame up in the park and one of mine on the corner of Pauger and Leclerc – and then out for grillade and grits in a restaurant. The beef fought back, but the grits (corn paste?) were ok.
I have to say one of my favourite moments was the drama in these two shots posted here today: a cat frozen below and equally frozen squirrel, further up the tree. No idea who won, but it was just around the corner from where I posted As Big As A Father later on. There was a squirrel up that lamppost swearing his head off at me as I pinned the poem to the post. Guess he came down after I left and chewed it right up.