A New Orleans Baptism (and some German food)

First off, thank you to everyone who's reading this post and who's been reading my blog. It's had over 300 views! <3 

It's been almost a month now that I've been in New Orleans. (It has also been two years since I graduated college, which blows my mind.) Things are going very well at my job and I'm loving my apartment and getting to know my roommate's dog better and better each day while she's on a 3-week European tour.

I thought the music scene was okay, at first. I'm not much of a jazz fan. But I quickly became aware of, and tonight fell in love with, the brass band. 

I live in Bayou St. John near City Park and within walking distance of Bayou Boogaloo, an annual festival by the water. It's a free festival with music, food and art - pretty much everything wonderful about New Orleans. I've been biking past the set-up all week, getting really pumped. So I made sure to go tonight and even looked up the line-up, deciding I wanted to see the Rebirth Brass Band at 7:30 ish. 

My new friends at Mid-City Volleyball Group were also going to be there, so I arrived right after work. I hung out for a bit, deciding whether or not I wanted to play, before going and grabbing food. I pestered a couple of folks eating Indian food to find out where the Indian stand was but when I got there they'd just run out of the chana masala and would have more in forty minutes. I was too hungry to wait. Small digression: last week on my way to buy groceries, I encountered a fellow cyclist and wound up going to the French Quarter with him to find a book store and art supplies. We found two book stores but no art supplies, and after a little while he started showing me things in the city I hadn't seen before. We spent a couple hours together, even cuddled in City Park, which was lovely. He gave me a foot rub, which I never say no to. But when it came time to part, I asked if he wanted my number to plan all the things we'd said we'd do together like dancing. He said "No, but you can take my number and call me and cook me a fancy dinner sometime." At that point I realized he was an asshole and decided I'd be happy if I never saw him again. (In his defense, I was warned that people in New Orleans tend to let "fate" bring them together.) The funny thing is that his last name, which I had to pry out of him, is Prasad, the Hindu word for sacred food. The Indian food stand was called "Good Karma Prasad Cafe." So maybe I'm not meant to have any Prasad, the food or the boy.) 

So my second choice was Bratz, Y'All!, a German sausage catering group. I was debating between the NOLA Schnitzel and The Drunk Pig and got to the counter where I was promptly asked, "Do you want to try a Drunk Pig?" "Why yes, I do." I paid for one that was all made up and ate it. It's pulled pork marinated in beer with mustard and sauerkraut on top. I added Heinz relish and ketchup and nom'd. Very tasty; I highly recommend it. 

(A note: I promise to start cooking. Wait until June when I have to eat local!) 

After eating with my volleyball friends, I debated joining the game again. I debated just long enough for dusk to fall and the net to come down. Oh well, there will be another day. 

My new friend Melissa brought out graham crackers and Nutella and we proceeded to eat almost a full pot. Apparently Nutella down here is like, $4. Amazing. 

I started getting sleepy and decided to go home. While walking to the other end of the festival, I was drawn to the Orleans Stage where the sounds of the Rebirth Brass Band settled into my chest. I got in close and started moving. The song had a fantastic beat and the people were chanting back to the band, including repeating "Rebirth!" over and over. After shouting rebirth a few times, I released that I was being reborn. It sounds hooey, but with my hands raised to the music and my hips swaying, I was baptized in  Nawlins music.

I've known it almost since day one, but I'm going to fit in just fine here.