Ahhh! One of life's great pleasure's: beignets and cafe au lait at Cafe Du Monde down by the Big Muddy. That's how I began my day and it was sheer delight. As I was strolling Decatur Street on my way to this rare treat, I was accosted by an employee of a rival establishment, distributing coupons from a spot called Cafe Beignet. Now, I ask you: Given the choice of dining at a place that's been serving these great little pastries and their wonderful coffee since the 1860s or avoiding a block or two of walking to eat at this johnny-come-lately imitation, do they really think I'll opt for the latter? I suppose they manage to make a living by roping in first-time tourists who don't know any better but, please, Cafe Beignet, get out of my face; it's Cafe Du Monde or nothing for me.

Properly fueled, I began a day-long stroll through the Quarter. My first stop was the Jazz exhibit at the Louisiana State Museum in the Old U.S. Mint building. There, one can learn more than one will ever hope to remember about the history of jazz and it seems appropriate to me that such an exhibit exists here. This has not been, with certain exceptions like the Marsalis family, a great jazz town for many years (New York is, without a doubt, the greatest jazz town in the world. You can hear more world-class players in Manhattan in one week than you can in most towns in a year) but New Orleans is widely considered the birthplace of jazz and they should certainly be proud of the town's great contributions to this uniquely American art form. What passes for jazz, though, in many of the French Quarter tourist traps is just a notch above Shakey's Pizza piano-and-banjo pap (I write this fully aware that any New Yorker reading it will have no idea what this reference means).

Anyway, I learned a great deal about the origins of jazz at this fine exhibit and I recommend it to one and all. I followed it up with a visit to the Voodoo Museum and all I have to say about that is this: If you are really intent upon throwing five dollars away, don't spend it at this cheezy joint; just mail it to me. Believe me, it would be money better spent.

Now, what about lunch? A tough choice; New Orleans is a great food town. I considered, at one time or another, The Napoleon House, K-Paul's, Acme Oyster Bar and who knows how many other little spots that I came across in my wanderings but I finally decided to visit the birthplace of the muffaletta, the sandwich that is native to the Big Easy: Central Grocery. I wolfed down this tasty treat, with potato chips and a beer and decided that I'd made a pretty good choice. I spent the remainder of the afternoon wandering in and out of shops, listening to music as it spilled out onto the street from the bars and soaking up the atmosphere that is unique to this great city. I spent the latter part of the afternoon at the new Aquarium of the Americas, a pretty impressive place. I made the acquaintance there of two women who reside in New York; we spent some time chatting and strolling. They also were impressed with the facility but they were adamant that it doesn't hold a candle to the Baltimore aquarium in their home state of Maryland.

It started to rain a bit as night began to fall, and as I wasn't yet inclined to return to the hostel for the evening, I ducked into a four-plex that featured nothing but foreign and independent American films. I caught Mediterraneo, this year's Oscar winner, and quite enjoyed it. It's a charming and warm-hearted picture.

Then, it was back to the hostel, where I closed out the evening conversing with folks from many lands. Let's see, there were a couple of Israelis, a Canadian, a Dutchman (who sounded remarkably British), two Aussies and a Dane. Quite an eclectic group and, before the night was over, I'd promised to escort them all to Cafe Du Monde the next morning, before I hit the road again.

Continue on the American Odyssey.
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