“You gotta wave, girl, we don’t what you’re thinkin’ ” She said again as we got out of the car.

“Ya, just not used to it. Thanks!”

….

So, The plans for Saturday morning had been to walk to whole foods, find something to eat for breakfast and then walk back to head to the French Quarter with Karen. She’d offered to drive us the day before.

Well the plans kind of fell through when I didn’t fall asleep till almost 4, and mom seemed like she needed the sleep when i woke up at 7, so I let her sleep. She woke up around quarter to 9, so we just had some tea and I texted Karen around 930. I took a shower and we waited and met Karen outside at ten.

She came out in a rush on the phone. Mom and I climbed into her car. Karen hung up and proceeded to chat with mom about a variety of things. As she drove us through the many one way streets of her neighborhood, she talked about history, and answered mom’s questions. She pointed out places to go and brought Katrina. She talked so fast I pretty much ended up tuning her out. I figured mom was paying attention so I’d hear it all later.

I concentrated my attention on the houses around and the horse carriages in the street. Many houses were painted in bright…bright colors. Most of the architecture seemed about the same. Tall, narrow houses pushed closely together and raised high up, probably to avoid floods.

It was a few minutes before I realized Karen had parked in what seemed like the middle of the road behind some horses. I had thought we were just waiting to pass or for the carriages to go by but apparently she was just going on and on with my mom about history and how to get places – or something. I wasn’t really paying attention, I was too engrossed in my people watching and the buildings around and the different sites i had to see.

Before I knew it, mom was getting out of the car saying good byes to Karen. I scrambled to slide across from the driver’s side backseat to the right side passenger’s door, saying good bye and thanks to Karen – who was still yelling things at my mom.

Then she was off, and I was standing behind a giant horse and white carriage, with no roof, smelling horse poop. I didn’t see any on the ground but I could smell it. I realized it was all collected in giant bags piled on the street. Many people were walking by and standing in front of a tall white, cracked wall. Apparently we were at a cemetery.

Oh, right. Mom wanted to see the raised cemeteries. Cool.

So, we walked up to the entrance about ten feet from us, and two gentlement said good morning. We acknowledged and entered.

“Go on in, walk anywhere you want. ” The older man said, pointing like the Scarecrow from “The Wizard of Oz.”

It was a maze of water worn, weather worn, cracked tombs. Some seemed updated, others were so broken you could no longer tell they were even tombs. They seemed like just piles of stone and brick. Many had fences, similar designs, all worn down to the original metals, or rusted so you couldn’t even tell what metal it was.

The only thing in the place that was not broken or worn was the giant pyramid of a tomb in the center. It was perfect white except for pink lipstick kisses. Wanna guess whose tomb that belongs to? Guess, I dare you.

Nicolas Cage’s. He’s still alive, yes, but he knows where he’ll be resting, that’s for sure. Okay, Ghost Rider, aka The Man who once drove the car of my dreams, AKA National Treasure hunter – that’s a weird place to be buried but hey, at least you’ve got your plans in order. Good job. My grandma would be proud.

A couple tombs had beads and hats and jewels, photos, candles, etc. Really it was only two – I think Karen had mentioned something about this being for luck? I’ll have to look into it later.

Most didn’t have many names or dates, or they’d be broken/washed off. There were a couple that had been fixed and updated to have more than 10 names on it with room to add more. Seems like entire families continue to be buried there.

After the cemetery we just started walking, following the large groups of people across the street and down into what we figured was the French Quarter. The older, colorful buildings, and the street names gave it away.

Mom’s biggest concern right now was finding some kind of voodoo doll for dad. I guess he’d asked for it. Her way of telling me what he wanted when I asked on Thursday (before we left) was “Hey Bartender, ___ Needs a refill”.

Jobu – “Major League”, Cerrano. My dad’s a bit obsessed with that movie sometimes. But Superstition in baseball, man, it’s a thing.

So we found one of those obvious souvenior places and it was $4 for ten so mom bought four. I think dad gets two, then we each get one. She will take them home with her when she leaves on Sunday.

(So, I’m sitting in an empty cafe right now typing this up, and all the servers are standing around chatting and giggling at me for typing right now…it’s a really slow morning for them it seems. I dunno,, is it weird? I don’t think so… anyways, moving on…)

It’s hard to be here and not think about my trip last year to New Zealand. I seem to compare that to every trip I take now. Sorry, USA, but New Zealand kicks your ass in views, fun, and awesomeness for me right now. As much as I’ve always wanted to come to New Orleans – one of the birthplaces of my favorite music – I was too drawn to the peaceful world that was Wellington, NZ.

Back to NO, LA, USA.

Once we had the dolls, we continued to walk around, and found Bourbon street – and the building my Grandfather had drawn when he was here. I took many photos as we walked – I almost lost mom a few times. She also walks a lot slower than I do, which is a change for me as my tall friends always have to slow down for me and my short legs. We walked past the courtyards and the taller buildings, past all the live music you could want, tons of people and artists were out. I assumed this was because it was Saturday, and there were college football games on this weekend so it was a bit crowded. Karen had warned us about it.

We made our way to the left of the large courtyard with the statue of Andrew Jackson, down a long and very busy taxi-full street to a place to book some tours. The man at the counter was a little rude but sort of helpful at the same time. It was too late to get on any tours, sorry Mom. Next time.

We turned back towards the courtyard, and past more horse carriages, artists selling work and big groups of tourists. We crossed the railways – which is weird in itself to just walk across railroad tracks with no guards or a light for walking or anything. Coming upon a large canopy with sections under for lines, we found the Steamboat Natchez leaving for it’s morning tour. After booking the afternoon lunch boat ride with the live Dixieland band, we had two and a half hours to kill. So more walking was in order.

Mom seems to love Beignets so we found an original place and waited probably 45 minutes in line for hot chocolate and beignets. It was probably not vegetarian friendly, but sometimes I have to make allowances. I will regret this later standing in line with noisy children. You’ll see.

After getting our food and drinks, we walked back to the large canopy, crossing through the patios of the Jackson Brewery, and over the railroads again.

For the first ten – fifteen minutes things were quiet, peaceful. The wind was light and the sun was high. Then – they came. By the fives, tens and dozens. Families with lots of kids all carrying bags and not one parent controlling their kids. Everybody under the age of ten was running around screaming and yelling. Parents were talking loudly as well. This was when it started. My head began to hurt, and I began to feel sick.

“That was totally real milk. I totally forgot about that.” I told Mom.

We got up to walk around, down to the otherside of the nearby park to get more air and away from the noisy kids.

As we came back maybe twenty minutes later, We saw a gigantic line had formed under the canopy. We figured we should start waiting – though we didn’t understand why there was such a line.

I began to investigate. “I’ll be right back..”

I walked down….down…down… to the beginning of the line, which was NEAR the lines designated for the boat, but it wasn’t in the boat lines. The were three people holding tickets and taking bags of toys behind a folding table. Mystery Solved.

I walked back, “So, it looks like they’re giving free tickets to people donating toys.”

“Darn, wish we’d have known that.” Mom said.

“Yep, so I think we can just walk around and get into line because we have tickets already. ”

And we did. It was still about 45 minutes till the boat was going to be departing the dock, and twenty before we’d board. It was going to be a long wait, in a long line – but not as long as it could have been, if we’d waited longer to return. There were so many people arriving as we stood under that canopy, the noise carried under and just hung above me, around me. The family next to us in line was loud and yelling at their kids for playing with the line poles. They kept bumping into me – as if I wasn’t there, and they weren’t even that tall.

I was getting dizzy, spots were forming in front of me, and things were turning white. This is usually how it feels right before I pass out, so I kept ducking down, trying not to draw too much attention to myself for fear I’d alert Mom of the situation (which she is now learning as I write because I can tell her after the fact but not during.. it’s a family trait…).

I got up and walked to sit in the tables, and back to the line, and sitting on the ground a few times. My mom’s not dumb, she knew something was up but she knew not to ask yet. Good Mom.

As the line moved I realized people were getting their photo taken with Santa. Mom and I – we hate photos, and were no in any need for one taken with Santa.

“How are we gonna get out of the photo?” Mom asked.

“Mom, you’re with a pro – You don’t ever HAVE to have your photo taken. Watch”

As we approached, Santa’s helper asked how many.

“Two, but no photo please.”

“Oh, you can go around then.”

We walked around the photographers up to the metal walkway.

“See?” I grinned.

Luckily once we made it on the ship, parked ourselves at a table near the front, next to the dining room, I was better. I don’t do well with crowds and people – and the milk/beignets was probably what did the most of it. That much sugar, after having not eaten much since Thursday – That’s a big problem for me, as many friends can attest.

The cruise lasted about two hours, down the Mississippi and back. The Captain told stories and histories, and pointed out various battle locations as we steamed down the river. He was entertaining, and easy enough to listen to. I was just enjoying the ride and the view. While most things were still being rebuilt from the Katrina hurricane, some things were still standing.

Every so often some kids would come running by or loud parents bounding down yelling at their kids, but for the most part things were quiet where we were. Thankfully we were no where near Santa. The lower deck was probably a disaster with families. Glad we were on the middle deck.

We had lunch/dinner on the cruise, some delicious okra and cornbread was my meal. Some rice too. It was good to eat. I forget how much okra is used in New Orlean’s cooking – and they always make it pretty well. It reminded me of Disneyland’s veggie Gumbo, which is inspired by New Orleans, of course, it being located near the Pirates of the Caribbean on the Creole style streets, across from their steamboat. The real thing is much better – just FYI – but nice try Disney.

After the cruise we were on a mission (from God – just kidding!) to find my mom her Beignet mix. Apparently that was on her list of things to buy. We wandered down the same street we had before when we went to try to get a plantation tour. I guess mom had see a shop earlier with what she’d wanted without even mentioning it. She moved in, grabbed three boxes and was ready to go. Well okay then mom! =)

After that, we had to get a taxi. That was fun. I’m not used to waving for taxis, and this one woman yelled at us from her car to come on it.

“You’ve gotta wave, girl, we don’t know what you want otherwise.” She said – in a heavy caribbean accent. I was going to try to replicate it in words but I just don’t think I can give it its due justice.

She was pretty nice, but had no idea the name of the street we needed to go to and i had a hard time pronouncing it as well. I’m also quiet and she couldn’t hear me (a problem I have with everyone else in the world) so mom was shouting the directions as I told her.

We finally made it home, and thanked the driver, she was pretty awesome so mom tipped her extra. Into the house we went, where I helped mom pack three boxes and her clothes in her backpack so she’d be ready to go the next day. Also, I’d later try to get her to watch Moonrise Kingdom – a movie which would have her say:

“I have no idea what the hell happened in that movie…”

Just before she’d fall asleep. I would be awake for many hours longer – a routine that would follow me throughout the week.