New Orleans - Little glimpses of the Big Easy

In a martini mixer, take equal parts of wealthy Southern families and impoverished African-American people. Add one part each of French architecture, live jazz, blues musicians and street performers.  Fill it to the brim with bourbon. Shake well and serve in a cocktail glass with a plate of oysters and alligator appetizers. Voila! Say hello to New Orleans, Louisiana -also affectionately called Nola, the Crescent City and the Big Easy.

From prostitution to slave trade, booze to drugs, this Sin City of the South has seen it all.  Named after the French monarch, Louis XIV, the colony of Louisiana once covered present day Louisiana, Arkansas, Mississippi and other states stretching all the way to Nebraska and Michigan in the north and the french colonies in Canada. The city of New Orleans was founded in 1718 and named after the city of Orleans in France. The ruling family in France at that time, the Royal House of Bourbon, is the root behind the name of the city's iconic street. Spanish architecture began to shape the landscape of the city's streets after it was sold to Spain in 1763.

Although New Orleans was a major center for slave trade, the treatment meted out to these slaves was markedly different and in every way better than what slaves received in other parts of the country. There were several 'free persons of colour' and you could also purchase your own freedom.

In 1803, the Spanish sold Louisiana to the United States of America. French and Spanish Creole people who had settled down here did not appreciate mixing with Americans. Canal Street was constructed on one side of the French Quarter to basically keep Americans away from the French Quarter. You'll notice this when you see street names change from "Rue de X" to "X Street".  Later in the 18th century, a mass of refugees arrived from Haiti. Many of these people were skilled craftsman and educated in a variety of subjects. One of them became the first mayor of New Orleans. 

The city enjoyed its "golden period" when it became a major port and finance center for cotton and sugar cane. After the Depression hit this area as well, it sparked a resurgence and redevelopment of the French Quarter. Today, its economy is relatively more stable due to oil trade.  The city is also the birthplace of jazz which quickly became its biggest tourist attraction along after Mardi Gras.

Returning to present day NOLA, the air is so humid I can cut it with a knife. The streets are narrow and filled with two-story houses complete with large French windows, patios and hanging ferns and tropical plants. Occasionally, antique stores and art galleries sprout between these rows of houses. Their signs are in English and French as are the names of streets in this area. Traffic is a riot on these narrow streets and if it weren’t for giant SUVs lining next to horse-drawn carriages, you could assume that you’ve landed in some French colony in the South Pacific. Not quite. This is the French Quarter.

Most every tourist tries to get a room in one of the many hotels in this district. With its architecture, antique shops, distinctive French influence and numerous bars on legendary Bourbon Street, the French Quarter is an explosive amalgam of tradition, modernity, decadence and debauchery.Our stroll around the Quarter begins after a well-deserved brunch at Café Amelie.  Recommended by tourists and residents alike, the café’s menu includes a healthy mix of French food, Cajun seafood and traditional Southern delights swimming in syrup and butter. Have a seat in the lush courtyard and let the sound of the water fountain drown out the raucous on the streets. As we leave, a friend points out to Lenny Kravitz sitting a few tables away and sipping iced tea.
   

On Chartres Street, the sight is dominated by gothic spires soaring to the skies. This is the St.Louis Cathedral, built over the foundations of a colonial 1727 church. The church remains the oldest place of worship in the Mississippi valley. The interior provides a cool and welcome respite from the heavy air outside.

The church faces Jackson Square (formerly Place d'Armes), filled with street musicians, artists and lazy pedestrians. In the far corner, a long line of people waits impatiently under a large green awning with dozens joining every few minutes. No visitor worth his whiskey can leave the historic Café Du Monde from his itinerary, known internationally for its hot beignets (fried French doughnuts) and strong chicory coffee. At $2.30 for 3 doughnuts, they are surprisingly cheap. With more powdered sugar on a serving than you can consume in a week, just leave your conscience at the door!  

  
By late afternoon, Bourbon Street begins to teem with revelers. There’s never a bad time to have a drink in this city, nor is there a shortage of drinks! Almost the entire street is blocked off from traffic and people are free to carry drinks on the street. Before we lose ourselves in the madness of the scene on a Saturday night, we decide to uncover secrets of the city's dark past on a haunted walking tour.Our tour guide is an interesting man himself. Dressed in a breezy tunic with lots of chains, colored glasses and a unique hat, I can practically see him practicing wizardry or voodoo when he isn’t offering tours. “There are more dead people in this city than living people”, he announces. This explains the many cemeteries you find all over town where coffins are not buried but entombed several feet above the ground (since the city is below sea level).

Among the many stories he revels and chills us with, one talks about a merchant who owned a palatial home in the heart of the Quarter. One drunken afternoon, after gambling away everything he owned including the house, the merchant had just a few hours to deliver the bad news to his wife at home and vacate the premises with his family and in-laws. Instead, he chose to hang himself in the living room and to this day, locals believe his spirit wanders around the house (now a restaurant called Muriel’s). The restaurant has set aside his favorite table where he ‘dines’ on occasion.  Our cameras click away and after a little while, one person in the group notices an apparition near the table in her pictures. What you make of it is left to you.

The tour ends at a church featuring ‘Touchdown Jesus’- so named not just for the image but also because the Church officially requested permission from the Pope to hang the insignia of the New Orleans Saints after their victory at the Superbowl in 2010.

 The walk has given me an appetite and it is time to sample another New Orleans staple-gumbo. For an authentic gumbo experience, head to the Gumbo Shop where the menu includes vegetarian gumbo for people like me. Of course, our waitress, Kim, looks at me like I’m an alien when the others order ‘hurricanes’ to drink and I ask for something ‘virgin’.  A hurricane is a classic New Orleans drink made with rum, fruit juice, syrup and grenadine. The Irish pub of Pat O’Brien’s (the first bar in the country with dueling pianos) boasts of the best hurricanes in town but my friends agree the Gumbo Shop’s drinks are actually better. 

 
Culture, history, gumbo and hurricanes checked off our list, the only sane thing to do next on a Saturday night is to lose ourselves in the insanity of Bourbon Street. New Orleans is one of the few places in USA where you can consume alcohol on the streets. Its residents and visitors are certainly thankful for that. There are more bars on Bourbon Street than I have ever seen on any street in the country (and I have traveled a lot!). Stumble from bar to bar, catch beads thrown from balconies and drown yourself in cups of hurricanes. Virtually nothing is taboo here and I get the feeling people come to this place specifically to get sloshed, realize their fantasies and relive the madness of their youth. 

 Sunday morning begins with yet another buffet of syrupy, buttery goodness - eggs, french toast, ham, hash browns, crab cakes and biscuits exclusively prepared to knock our cholesterol levels off the charts. Even though the heat is stifling well before noon, Sai and I venture out with the friends(a couple) we made the previous night. We rent a car and drive out to Oak Alley Plantation, probably the most famous and impressive of all the plantation homes that were built in Louisiana since the 18th century.

 The drive to the plantation home takes a little over an hour from the city. Stepping outside the French Quarter, you get to see the other side of New Orleans. Even though Hurricane Katrina hit over 7 years ago, some of these parts are yet to fully recover from the blow. Buildings are run down and trash-filled streets are deserted in the afternoon sun. Graffiti is every where and I'm sure crime is too.  We leave these streets and drive through miles of farms before we get to the 173-year old sprawling plantation home built on 25 acres.

Originally built as a sugar cane plantation, the Oak Alley plantation home has passed through several hands over the last 2 centuries. Its architecture is French Creole with high ceilings, large windows and a balcony to view the grounds. The original marble flooring was replaced with wooden floors when a subsequent owner decided to let his sons race horses across the grounds...and literally through the house.

The plantation gets its name from the stunning canopy of 28 oak trees which line up to cover the skies and create one of the most beautiful sights you can find in this part of the country. The canopy stretches till the end of the grounds near the banks of the Mississippi.

Several other plantation homes are within minutes from Oak Alley and on the same road. However, the afternoon sun has zapped us out of energy and  we aren't prepared to explore more acres of cotton or sugar cane plantations for all the mint juleps in the state. 

We head back to our hotel and soak our sweaty selves in the pool on the roof top. The water is warm and frankly, quite gross. Practically everything around us smells of warm beer! After the sun goes down, we venture out to the edge of the Quarter to Frenchmen Street in the Marigny area. If you want a break from the drinking and debauchery of Bourbon Street, visit one of the many cafes, restaurants and bars on Frenchmen Street which feature live jazz and blues performances.  The Maison is one of the more popular venues with good reason.

Our night ends with another stop at Cafe du Monde. It is nearly midnight but the cafe is open 24 hours a day and throughout the year. This is definitely a better time to enjoy beignets with fewer people around. Perhaps it is the sugar but I am almost tempted to call the experience 'relaxing'.

Day 3 in NOLA is our final day in this fantastic city. I get off to an early start so I can visit some of the many antique stores on Royal Street. The start also allows me to wander through the streets of the Quarter and capture some more shots of the French and Spanish architecture here. You can spend hours, if not days, exploring the Quarter's many stores, boutiques, galleries and mansions. 

 

 Later in the afternoon, Sai and I head to the Garden District which is an affluent neighborhood of New Orleans.  Before we take in some of the splendid homes in this area, we visit the Lafayette Cemetery-one of the oldest among the many cemeteries in town. The air is heavy and there isn't a sound to be heard besides the buzzing of crickets. Even though it is in the middle of the day, there's a certain melancholy which every tomb's fading paint exudes. One of these tombs belongs to a family where the parents died at 50 and no child lived to see the age of 21.

 

Getting back on St.Charles Avenue, our final experience in New Orleans is a ride on the St.Charles Street Car line. The car is vintage and charming with shiny wooden seats and bells that clang along the way. The ride takes us down St.Charles Avenue lined with some of the wealthiest houses you can ever find in the South. The sheer size of every house, its impressive drive way and opulent gardens will leave you awestruck as you begin to wonder about the collective wealth of the families that occupy these houses.  

 

New Orleans is undoubtedly a city of extremes. Bar-hoppers are happy to drown in alcohol while fans of live jazz wouldn’t budge if the building caught fire. The wealthy Southern families on St.Charles Avenue in the Garden District have jaw-dropping homes while less affluent people find their paradise living right on the sidewalk. Hurricanes may come and go, leaving the city in shambles, but they cannot wash away the many colors of this city. Those remain truly indelible.

As I settle into my flight back home, I slip into conversation with the lady next to me. She was here to visit family outside New Orleans. She was glad to avoid the fervor of Bourbon Street. “I could never stand the madness of this place. I tell my daughter this is the closest you are going to get to hell”. New Orleans may not be everyone’s cup of tea. But a splash of bourbon can fix that quite easily. In the Big Easy, you don’t have to go too far for that.

Sparks of Mark

A few days ago, I met a man named Mark. He had just returned from Southeast Asia where he spent two years teaching English in Korea and a few months working in a campaign to save orangutans in Borneo, Indonesia. Mark is from Wisconsin where he studied music and theater. Singing has always been an inseparable part of his life and it accompanied him on his travels. In Borneo, Mark used his talent to compose songs, prepare skits and put up theatrical productions to help educate villagers in the area about conservancy programs for the orangutan. His energy was infectious and his smile was disarming. His eyes lit up with such life that you couldn't help but share the passion burning behind them.

It wasn't surprising that this Pied Piper from LaCrosse, Wisconsin had Borneo's kids following him everywhere and singing his songs.

What's so special about Mark is that his soul still fuels the flame we all felt at some point in our youth but simply extinguished. Yes, life happens and it is always going to have plans different from the ones we make for ourselves. Does that mean we shouldn't bother to make a difference in the world? Are we to resign ourselves to where life takes us? Haven't enough of us done that already? What has that resignation given us besides turning us into drones in a factory-like society?

Here is a guy who went around the world to a small town outside Seoul,Korea so kids and adults could learn to speak English better. He then went to Borneo, Indonesia so that children started caring for the forests surrounding them and the happy orangutans sitting in those forests. He has now returned to the States where he educates people on the detrimental effect that the demand for palm oil has on rainforests in Indonesia.

Mark is not a lone fighter trying to make a difference but his army isn't large either. However, if one person has managed to touch the lives of so many people and leave a lasting impact, what does it take to add one more?

In talking to him, I remembered that I too shared his passion a long time ago. When I was finishing high school, I started to maintain a website on Geocities.com where I'd post articles on cruelties inflicted on the animal kingdom. At that time, I was a dorky teenager living with the dream that enough people would read these stories and take a stand to help be the voice for the voiceless. Sadly, a few years later, Geocities died and my own voice died out with it. I had forgotten about that website for a long time now. Mark's journey triggered something in me and thanks to Google, I tracked down my tiny space on the web after 10 years. Here's a link to it:

Vikram's Annals for Animals

In this site, I see my former self brimming with hope and enthusiasm. I look at myself now and only wish I never let this flame die again. Not all of us can turn into Marks but we can certainly use a spark of Mark.

Sit up today and make a difference. Give something back, help a friend or better yet, help a stranger. Take a stand. Lend a hand. It doesn't matter what you do but just do something. Be the change.

Cologne-Secret of Rhineland

"A what?"

"Stroopwafel", the lady repeats."How we eat, we take a piece...yes? Place it over your cup of coffee. The heat will warm up the sugar syrup filling inside the waffle."

A dutch pastry is the perfect way to bid goodbye to the Netherlands as Sunil and I head south towards Germany. 

Stroopwafels in hand, we find comfortable seats on the swanky Intercity Express #105 scheduled to leave Amsterdam for Cologne at 8.04am. Barely have we put settled in that our train slithers from the station, silently and swiftly. Our watches show 8.04am. So far, we have been using our smartphones to set morning alarms and check local times. The smartphones could very well rely on German trains for their own precision.

At 10.45am, not a minute late, our train pulls into Koln Hauptbahnhof-Cologne Central Station.

Cologne is the oldest city in Germany and the 4th largest after Berlin, Hamburg and Munich.  Situated on the Rhine river, it is also the 2nd busiest port in the country after Hamburg. Occupied by Romans and the Ubii tribe in the first century, Cologne has a grand history that it chooses not to flaunt. Instead, it invites the planned tourist and uninformed visitor with equal warmth to discover its past and admire its present. 

For several centuries, Cologne was a major political and trade center for the Roman empire before the Franks took control. In 1475, the city became a free  imperial city. By this time, it had also become an important pilgrimage center when relics of the Three Magi were donated to its cathedral. Cologne remained free until the 18th century when the French took over.  Public life was modernized and Napoleonic code existed until 1900. In the early part of the 19th century, Cologne became a part of the Kingdom of Prussia.

World War I didn't cause much damage to the city but World War II practically wiped it out. Thousands of people were moved and as many died, reducing its population by 95%. Major churches and buildings downtown were destroyed, causing the architect tasked with its resurrection to call it 'the world's greatest heap of rubble'. Since then, an impressive transportation infrastructure and a growth in media companies here have helped the city rise from rubble to become incredibly prosperous with a thriving cultural scene. 

Sunil and I step out of the train station and fall to our knees. Right next to the station and soaring to the skies with the city's history is the Kolner Dom-Cologne Cathedral. The seat of the Archbishop of Cologne, this church enjoys the distinction of being the most visited landmark in all of Germany. It is a magnificent construction of Gothic architecture, 632 years in the making. 

 

Cameras cannot do justice to this cross-shaped building and its intricate architectural details. At a time when the entire city was in ruins, this church alone stood mighty and defiant. Its interiors, though subdued, are just as magnificent as its exteriors. Among its many treasures includes the Shrine of Three Kings, a gilded sarcophagus said to contain the remains of the Three Magi. 

Panting our way up the narrow, spiral staircase in the  tallest tower, we are presented with splendid views of the architecture as well as the expanse of the city on either side of the Rhine.  The St.Petersglocke (Bell of St.Peter) that hangs here is the largest free-swinging bell in the world.  

 

Cologne spreads out around the Dom

Just a short distance away from the Dom is the Gross Sankt Martin (Great St.Martin Church) - a Roman Catholic church built on the remnants of a Roman temple in the 10th and 11th centuries.  This also happens to be one of the 12 Romanesque churches in Cologne.

 The sun welcomes us as we step out of the church after finishing our visit. Our next visit is to the waterfront just a few blocks away. The waters of the Rhine surround Cologne's InnenStadt like a moat, turning its Dom magical at night. The river is one of the longest in Europe, originating in Switzerland and flowing into the North Sea near the Netherlands. The stretch near Cologne's InnenStadt is beautiful and doesn't look too dissimilar from downtown Portland's own Willamette river waterfront.

The Rhine with the Hohenzollern Bridge in the backdrop

The Hohenzollern Bridge is probably the most scenic of the many bridges across the Rhine. We are tempted to cross it by foot and enjoy a cable car ride over the river but time doesn't permit us to do so. Instead, we walk along the waterfront, enjoying the sunshine and admiring the many luxury boats docked here which are gearing up for New Year's Eve festivities.

Our walk is rewarded when we arrive at the Imhoff-Schokoladenmuseum - yep, the museum of chocolate! Said to be the best of its kind, the Schokoladenmuseum provides a spectacular tour and tons of exhibits on the origins of chocolate, the growth in trade and a comprehensive look at chocolate production and consumption around the world. The museum also has lots of interesting information about trade practices in top suppliers of cocoa around the world, health information and several other unknown facts about chocolate. Currently supported by Lindt, the museum is truly a delight for the senses and for people of all ages. When we visit, the museum has a special holiday exhibit on display-Europe's most famous saints as well as scenes from religious scriptures all carved in massive blocks of chocolate

 

The museum also features a tropical greenroom to simulate the exact environment where cocoa typically grows. It is here that I find out the scientific name for the cocoa tree is Theobroma Cacao. Cacao comes from the MesoAmerican word for the cocoa bean which Spanish conquerors first learned after defeating the Aztecs and Mayans. Theobroma stands for "Food for the Gods" in Greek. Any arguments?

           The complete production cycle of a bag of Lindt chocolates happens right in front of our eyes. Sheets of cocoa goodness roll out, ready to be cut into squares. I feel no shame in pushing kids away to plaster my face against the glass walls that stand between me and those Lindt squares.  Unfortunately, I have to satisfy myself with wafers dipped in chocolate which a kind lady is distributing to visitors. Care to make your own bar of chocolate? Go right ahead and fill out a card! You pick the cocoa content you want, the ingredients in your bar as well as the toppings that finish it. Wait for a few minutes and your bar of chocolate is prepared per your custom taste!

 

It is sacrilegious to  leave the Chocolate Museum without stopping at their cafe where tantalizing treats await us. We finish a nice, relaxing meal while enjoying views of the promenade. Before stepping out into the cold, I decide to pop into the cafe's restroom. As in most places across Europe, public restrooms in Cologne have a usage charge and aren't always easy to find. Visitors are better off using the loo at cafes, museums or theaters where lines are shorter and no payment is required.  Here at the museum's bathrooms,  there are long lines. I finally get my turn and then I'm flabbergasted when  a woman walks right in. She is a part of the maintenance staff but that doesn't exactly comfort me! She goes about her business in the crowded men's room while I struggle to go ahead with mine. Apparently in Europe, a man's loo isn't always his castle.

It doesn't take us long to realize that Cologne has a variety of sights to satisfy as many interests. Had we been able to stay longer, Sunil would have liked to visit the Romisch-Germanisches Museum (Roman-Germanic Museum) near the Kolner Dom. The museum is an archaeological site in its own way since it protects the original site of a Roman villa and also houses a Dionysys mosaic from 220AD. Several artifacts from Cologne's Roman period are preserved here. If you are an art lover,  head to Museum Ludwig for one of the most impressive collections of Picasso's works. After a long day of sightseeing, soak your weary self in a heated pool at Claudius Therme. 

Our own time is limited. Before we head back to the Hauptbahnhof, we must pay homage to a treasure that became Cologne's claim to fame in the most significant way. In 1709, an Italian named Giovanni Maria Farina lived in this city and discovered a combination of citrus and ethanol which reminded him of Italian spring mornings, daffodils and orange blossoms after the rain. At that time, this aqua mirabilis (Miracle Water) was  sold only to royalty. A vial cost a man's salary and it wasn't until a 100 years later, when trade opened with the French, that lots of businessmen started selling their own versions of this classic fragrance under the generic name of Eau de Cologne (Water of Cologne). 

                                                       

 To this day, the formula for the original cologne (called Farina 1709) hasn't changed since that year and remains guarded at Farina 1709, its original home and our final destination in Cologne. The Museum here offers tours for fragrance-lovers but know that Eau de Cologne as such is traditionally marketed to men as an alternative to perfume.

Dusk drops a cold blanket on the city but shoppers fill the streets anyway. New Year's Eve is around the corner anyway. Hohestrasse, the city's busiest shopping street, comes to life near the Dom. We would have enjoyed shopping more if smoking in public wasn't so common here. Europeans definitely love their cigarettes and this mars the charm of walking down a lively street.

In an hour, we will be ready to catch our train and head further east. For the moment. we take a break and relax our feet at one of Cologne's many pubs. The most famous of Cologne's local beers is Kolsch, hoppy but less bitter than lager and more clear. Peter Joseph Fruh founded a private brewery for Kolsch in 1904 and his Colner Hofbrau Fruh is the brewery where we sit down to enjoy a glass of his golden concoction.

We head back to the bustle of Koln Hauptbahnhof where a  time table informs us that our EN 421 night train to Vienna will arrive on Platform 7. Collecting our bags from storage lockers, we reach our platform to see signs for seating assignments. A chart also tells us about the sequence of coaches for every train that will arrive on Platform 7. Simply put, you can use this chart and stand at the exact spot where your specific coach will open its doors for you when it is time to board. You know you are in Germany when trains run like clockwork.

At precisely 8.05pm, our train shunts out of the station. We share our chamber with a German family from outside Hamburg that is visiting relatives in Vienna. The parents, Georg and Mariana, speak perfect English besides German and French. They are very curious to learn about our travels while their 7-year old daughter, Sofie, is shy and utterly charming. Georg bears a striking resemblance to John Ritter and I tell him as much. He isn't familiar with the actor but is pleased to hear that he resembles a celebrity. Sunil slips into a conversation in French with Mariana while I try to practice what little German I remember with Sofie. Soon we discover that we both love the comic books of Asterix and Obelix. Georg asks me about the length and breadth of USA and then challenges her to calculate how big a country it is. This keeps her busy for a while.

In the distance, the canvas of darkness is interrupted by occasional patches of light in the distance. We are crossing the Rhine Valley whose hills are dotted with castles. Mariana tells us that we could have spotted the Lorelei rock on a cliff if we weren't traveling in darkness. According to local legend, Lorelei was a beautiful girl who once sat on this rock and combed her golden hair. Unwittingly, she distracted shipmen who crashed their boats on the rocks. Another story tells us that Lorelei was a beautiful girl betrayed by her lover. Accused of bewitching men, she is sentenced to a nunnery. On her way, she asks to climb this rock one last time and see the Rhine. She does so but falls to her death. Since then, the rock is said to murmur and echo her name (Lureln is German for 'murmering' and ley is Celtic for 'rock' so Lorelei roughly translates to 'Murmering Rock').

Soon, Sofie and the rest of us slip into a slumber. Our train speeds into the darkness towards Austria while the stars shine down on castles in Rhineland. Where legend ends and history begins in this land, it is hard to tell.