In Mississippi

We went to New Orleans yesterday. It was hot. H. O. T. After a late start - there is something in the air here as none of us could sleep Friday night, or last night for that matter - we hit town around 10:45. The tourists were swarming as we walked a short ways to Cafe du Monde. Upon approach, I was formulating an alternative plan... the line snaked out the door and around the corner of the patio area. We thought about it for an endless 60 seconds and then went for a walk to find another coffee place. No beignets, but a nice table inside an air conditioned Community Coffee House. The same one on Royal Street where I got my coffee the last time I was in NOLA.

After caffeination, we went to the New Orleans Museum of Art. From the quick run through I was able to squeeze in, the current exhibit of Fernando Botero's work, is wonderful. With a six-year-old, it wasn't an exhibit in which I could linger. I would like to take a class in engaging kids in art. I would love to get them excited about art, but it doesn't come naturally to me. I did peak her interest in the Flemish still lifes... how many moths do you see, can you find the spider and that sort of thing. The Faberge room was interesting to her because, well, items that beautiful are inherently interesting.

From the Museum we headed to the Garden District. Our path took us down Washington to St. Charles Avenue. (No one from New Orleans could ever complain about the street names in Atlanta... Washington changes names three times.) It was a depressing little drive. A surprising number of the houses we passed still have the rescue workers notations. And the waterline from the flooding.

We were driving to St. Charles Ave because we thought to take a short ride on the streetcar... it was appealing to the six-year-old. After 10 minutes (well, maybe closer to 5) of waiting in the too hot sun for the errant streetcar to show, the idea was abandoned. We drove down St. Charles and admired the houses.

Lunch was at the Camellia Grill as planned. Both girls declared that these were the best hamburgers they had ever eaten. T. said the texture was lovely, but with a sinus infection, she couldn't have tasted the burger had it been laced with serranos and tamarind. My grilled cheese with tomato was worth the wait.

The Camellia Grill has 29 seats of green-leather topped silver stools set along an undulating marble counter. Phillip was our waiter. The walls are pink, the floor black and white tile. The waiters wear white chef's jackets with black pants and and a white hat; they are gracious about posing for photos and energetically engaged the entire restaurant in singing happy birthday to a patron. The flatware is the cheap stuff and the glasses are of that translucent university cafeteria plastic, but the napkins are of a nice white cloth.

It was a Saturday well spent.