Ahhhh, another decadent morning. My mom had signed us up for the New Orleans School of Cooking where we learned how to cook red beans & rice, corn bread, and pecan pie from a pretty famous chef referred to as Big Kevin (Kevin Belton, the "human taxidermist"). I was skeptic but I learned a lot of very helpful recipes and tips, as well as was extremely entertained by Kevin and his stories. It was part cooking school part comedy! He spoke with me after the class was over and gave me some very encouraging words about moving to New Orleans and to contact him if I felt compelled to. What a nice man!
It drizzled all day today, which kept the heat at bay. I had nothing else planned so I decided to go somewhere I always wanted to visit, the Ursuline Convent. Not only has the convent been a huge presence in New Orleans history, but it's a scene of one of my dad's stories of his first ghostly encounters. It was ages ago when he was staying at the hotel across the street and one night couldn't sleep so decided to go out on the balcony in the early morning. While there he saw the shutters on the top floor completely open and the lights on. 
Curious, he visited the convent the next day and asked if there was a cleaning crew and that they must have been working very very early. He was informed the shutters have not been opened for years and are nailed shut! The entire upstairs area is off limits. Spooky? He's been a benefactor to the convent since in hopes to one day get a personal tour of the top level.It only cost me $3 to take a tour of the main floor. It was extremely peaceful there. I had the pleasure of hearing a boys choir as I walked through the old rooms of the convent, learning its history.
(Photo Above-Left: Looking into a spooky mirror at the Ursuline Convent. Above-Right: the courtyard of the Convent)
Mom and I decided to take the St. Charles streetcar out to the Columns Hotel for happy hour. Having not been on a streetcar in years, I was thrilled! With a $1.25 flat fare and a wonderful cool breeze coming in the open windows, we made our way to the Garden District and were dropped off right outside the hotel.
The Columns Hotel lounge gives me goose bumps... it looks of something straight out of the early 1900s with dark mahogany furniture, antique chandeliers, crimson velvet wall paper, and the very faint smell of cigar / perfume / booze that must have soaked into the floors and upholstery over hundreds of years. As a child this was the hotel we stayed at often... I have so many memories there. In fact, I would credit my curiosity of architecture and design to my time spent here. It was also where dad, Hayley, and I had many paranormal encounters staying on the top floor which was haunted. The place is so actively haunted that one of the employees there keeps a log of strange and unusual events guests complain about or tell the staff about. She read some to my dad and me one afternoon. I was a believer!
Mom got a little decadent that evening, ordering crab cakes, mushroom stuffed crabs, and drinks. I decided I wanted to walk through the Garden District, like Michael from Anne Rice's The Witching Hour loved to do. I walked for about an hour, constantly amazed by the beautiful architecture and yearning as I always did to lose myself in one of these Victorian mansions.... or at least be able to see inside. There was a storm on the horizon and the sky was a dark bluish grey and so I headed back to the Columns Hotel, where I discovered my mom had had five drinks since I was gone. We played cards in the parlor briefly and finally left for the streetcar.
(Views from the Garden District)
We decided to head to the French Quarter and have a nice little last-night in Pirate's Alley Absinthe House, where I imbibed a few absinthes. Mom decided to go back to the hotel early, and that's when I went on a straaaaange little adventure.Being quite inebriated on Absinthe, I walked the Quarter and ran into this quaint little bar with some amazing live music and some serious swing dancers. I sat at the back and met a nice couple from California who I danced with briefly (been a while since I did the ol' Charleston). At one point I needed to use the little lady's room so I went to what I thought was the restrooms, these two huge doors at the back of the bar.
This is where it got weird. Really... weird. I entered into what seemed like a very dark but vast area with one light in the very back of the place. I heard a man in a very angry and theatrical voice yell to me "Who goes there!?! What are you doing back here?" I replied that I was looking for the bathroom. "You are not allowed back here! Leave now!!" It scared me quite a bit, this man who was barely illuminated in the far area of the bar. I told the couple I met about this and they joined me to investigate. We discovered there was a gigantic theater in the back and the lights were on now, very dimly lit. Not a soul in there. I discovered later that One Eyed Jacks (the bar) used to be Maxwell's Jazz Cabaret, a speak-easy back in the 1920s. The front area where we were used to be a vet clinic while in the back was a huge bar / theater. From researching I learned there supposedly are a couple of very distinct entities that haunt the place, one including a gangster who used to be prominent and do business in, guess where, the back cabaret area. OooooooOOOOOOooooOOOOoooo. Perhaps it was the absinthe hallucinations, perhaps it was someone cleaning and not wanting to be disturbed, or perhaps I encounter a gangster ghost....
Talk about a paranormal day.
The next morning we had to do one touristic thing before we headed to the airport - Cafe Du Monde. Sitting outside scarfing down our beignets and listening to a guitarist play some sweet Beatles tunes, we talked about how wonderfully the French Quarter is doing and how it seemed to be getting better every day. I look forward to another visit to the city soon!Videos:
I Interview Mom at the Columns Hotel
Mom Surprises me with an interviews at the Columns Hotel
Happy Hour is Over... but Mom is on Fire
Swing Dancers at One Eyed Jacks
Dancers & Music at One Eyed Jacks
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