By Street Car, Saab, and Vespa

The price is right at $1.25 for a street car ride pulling along lengths of the city.  One block over and one block down from my hostel housed a stop, where minutes on my arrival a restored dirty green, Cyclops street car pulled up. Hello! Uncomfortable wooden benches lined the car, where I scooted to the window of one to watch everything effortlessly fly by. Puttering and clunking out of the Garden District, the street car rounded Lee Circle onto Carondelet Street, traveled down to Canal Street, returned back and to pass my stop, ran though the Garden District while passing Loyola and Tulane, worked up to Audubon Park where another $1.25 funded my jump onto the street car back home. An hour and a half ride quickly introduced me to the variety of living and shopping areas of the city.

Jumping on a Vespa the morning after a huge Thanksgiving dinner posed an additional risk to traveling unshielded, but no matter, if anything happened, this Varvatos leather was in for a test run. Fancy jacket, yes, ruggedly chic, one could say, Vespa ready, ha, we’ll see. Magazine Street, famous for its local color and shops, hid only three blocks from my hostel, and served as the first stop on the Vespa tour with Troy Architect. Coffee at Rue de la Course seemed fitting as another set of uncomfortable wooden seats supported my derriere. While sipping a fine café au lait, I read over a discarded Times-Picayune, the main newspaper for New Orleans, on our table, delighted by the cover story featuring the Thanksgiving dinner at the Convention Center. Almost famous!

Travels along Magazine Street saw clumps of shops ranging from antique to bridal to floral, even bars open to dogs and restaurants famous for Po’ Boys with crisply shelled French bread that perfectly sings with each bite. Dismounting the Vespa set us out on foot again, walking into unique shops including Aiden Gill for Men, providing products for the gentleman in your life ranging from shaving kits to fragrances with an additional back area set up and operational for a good clean shave; Spruce, a self-proclaimed eco-studio with distinctive surfaces, house ware, and furnishings; and Bush Antiques, comprised of rooms functionally furnished with choice antiques, especially known for their beds.

On and off again the Vespa buzzed, this time across town to Mid-City for lunch at Parkway, where Black Friday crowds slowed the arrival of a shrimp and oyster Po’ Boy, which was well worth the wait. A wait eased with a cold Abita beer, a local favorite. After lunch, I was off handed off to Talkative Mike, where Waffle, his companionable pug, joined the tour.

The Saab took us down the long entrance of the New Orleans Museum of Art, which houses a lukewarm collection, to continue on our way to see the Tree of Life, Mike’s nomenclature for a huge live oak in City Park. The branches of these stout trees reach outward, which when grounded, sprout their own set of roots. Shotgun houses stood side-by-side along the streets while we continued to the French Quarter, some renovated with standard doors instead of the traditionally tall ones, and other boarded up beyond repair.

Though familiar with French Quarter from a previous days’ wondering, tourist spots and areas were only seen, where Mike drove down Frenchman Street pointing out the Spotted Cat for jazz and Café Brasil to have a great night out. Exited the District near Congo Square to head Downtown and along the levy to pass Cooter Brown’s, where though only 3pm, Mike inquired about oysters. However, no stopping this tour, and we continued back to Mid-City to meet Sweetheart Zoya after work. She shook her head in amusement as Waffle jumped out of the car from my lap. Yes, the dog went with us. And sadly due to time, I was unable to join them at Waffle’s favorite bar on Magazine Street, the Bulldog, where owners were allowed to enjoy an alcoholic beverage with their loyal friend.