Everyone has a first love. Whether it be a person, a pet, or a parent. Mine, however, is a place known as The Big Easy.
New Orleans, Louisiana, is my first love. It came to me before my current love. It made me feel as if I were doing something right by simply visiting. I am fully aware of the many sinful acts that are performed (and sometimes exchanged) on Bourbon Street. But the history is astounding. The culture is so immensely placed around the city that even the Mississippi River cannot wrap its mind around it. Although the Mississippi does in fact cut into New Orleans, hence its name "The Crescent City."
Have you ever visited a place and thought to yourself, "This is where I want to be,"? That is exactly what I thought one year ago after I visited for the second time. Yes, Bourbon Street is overwhelming at first, but if you walk down the street, and turn on St. Ann Street, you will run right into Jackson Square. That is the cultural blanket of the city in itself. The St. Louis Cathedral is the centerpiece, along with the many street performers with Cafe du Monde one block over on Decatur Street.
Rumors have circulated that many buildings and hotels around the French Quarter are haunted. Not just the French Quarter, but the whole region of New Orleans. Even the St. Louis Cathedral's cemeteries are rumored to have spirits lurking around and playing with people. What I found to be the most disturbing places I have visited would be the Andrew Jackson Hotel and the Lalaurie Mansion. The Andrew Jackson Hotel used to be a boarding school for boys, and when the city burned down in the 1700's, five boys did not make it out alive. Sources have said that residents staying in the hotel have heard multiple children laughing at once in the middle of the night, or their possessions hidden from them until the very next day. Delphine Lalaurie secretly tortured and killed her slaves; she treated them like experiments. Later, sometime in the 20th century, it was in the process of being converted into a furniture store. The owners of the store noticed there was blood all over the walls as well as over all of the brand new furniture that was supposed to be for them to make a profit. Another mysterious sighting in the present day, my friend who went with me to New Orleans took a photo of the Andrew Jackson Hotel, there wasn't anyone there in the front door of the hotel, but you could see a small silhouette of a child by the staircase. I am not making this up.
From Jackson Square, to the Garden District, to the Riverwalk, and even to the Business District, New Orleans is screaming with history and culture. Even the street names. Royal Street was called "Rue Royale" when it was a French colony. Royal Street in Spanish was translated to "Calle Real" when it was a Spanish colony. Even the way the Mississippi River cuts into New Orleans and makes it a literal crescent. Don't forget about Lake Pontchartrain. When you cross the bridge either going to or coming from, it feels like you're leaving a beach.
I want to live in New Orleans some day. Partly because I feel it would be great to have the French Quarter as a guide for writing ideas, and partly because I love the city.
New Orleans, Louisiana is my first love.
