Laura and Lars Travel: A Love Letter To New Orleans, Part Deux

We woke up and took the morning easy. Heading to the French Quarter for an early lunch. The search for the most authentic eatery was the job for Laura and myself. Eventually we stumbled across a small sign leading down an old alley way; ‘Old Coffee Pot Gumbo Shop’. Po Boys, Gumbo, and Iced Tea were all the we craved.

After we got our fill we moved on to the Garden District. Jam packed with hundreds of mansions. Once the odd one sitting on a plantation, until everybody though owning a mansion was a good idea. Now it looks like Grey Lynn on steroids.

Finally the time had come. The crescendo was almost a fortissimo! We were on our way. Driving along the 90, out of town, and towards THE SWAMP. As the roads became narrower, and the houses became higher and higher on their stilts we knew we were drawing close. And then the sign; Cajun Encounters Swamp Tour.

We checked in and waited. Suddenly "Orange group, your up". We boarded our vessel, Captain Billy Bob at the helm. We cast off, into the great unknown (at least it was unknown to Laura and myself, you'd have hoped that wasn't the case for the tour guide!). Flying through the swamp river at 40mph, past the dead trees with their hanging Irish Moss, past the floating pavilions of water lilies, past the statuesque herons, until ____ we came to a stop. "Here's a good place to see dem 'gaitors" cries the Captain... nothing. On we go. "Okay, lets try here, saw one here not two hours ago". Nothing. Third spots lucky... "There's one" cries Laura with great excitement. After we'd seen one we were on a roll. Every other spot we stopped at... 'gaitors.

Once we'd sunk our teeth into enough scaly reptiles swimming up to the boat and jumping up for marshmallows (that's right, alligators love marshmallows apparently!) we moved on to the bayou. Just as you'd imagine. Dead trees protruding through the black, oily water. Swamp gas bubbling up from the depths. A thick humid smell of decay and sulphur. Moss hanging lazily from every branch.

The sun had set, and as we slowly eased our way through the impossible maze we began to hear strange noises. Deeper and deeper we got. And the further we went, the darker it became. The noises grew louder, whatever it was can't have been far. Suddenly we saw the source of the commotion... Two other swamp tour boats, feeding a group of wild boar!

After our Swamp Tour ended and we spent the drive back dodging armadillos on the road, we settled in to a balcony table for dinner. There was something truly magical about enjoying a meal in the French Quarter, listening to jazz, and watching the world go by.