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Escape from New Orleans

If you have ever been to New Orleans you will know what I mean when I say the city will suck you in.
New Orleans is like no place I have ever been to. Its a magical place that will take you back in time.

There’s an ancient magical beauty about the city, its mix of Spanish and french architecture as well as rebuilt buildings from times where either fires or hurricanes took it out.


Its the birthplace of Louise Armstrong, the home of jazz and the ultimate destination for those who are seeking ghost stories and voodoo tales of pirates and black magic.

Musicians on every corner, and I mean EVERY corner. From Cajun jug bands, to full brass marching bands, busking guitarists all over, and even opera singers.

Within 4 days we had become a part of this madness that reminded of me of being at a music festival 24/7.
The legendary Bourbon street took us 7 hours to circumvent, trying to see everything we could and stay alive while the hustlers and the vixens tried to tempt us into all kinds of situations.

We survived a night in Bourbon street which is apparently an accomplishment. Though Nick did end up not really making it up the stairs, or to his bed. More the floor in the kitchen. He was as the T-shirt said ‘Bourbon faced on Sh*t street’

We were in New Orleans for one reason: To soak in the music and the history. It wasn’t initially planned on our tour as getting a booking in New Orleans is to wait in line for a while as there is long list of musicians who have been waiting in that line long before you knew where the venue is.

After I lost Nick to bourbon street on our second night out, I was asking around if anybody had seen a sax player. Somebody said Sax players are like roaches in New Orleans: “You see one, but there’s actually millions”

We had to catch our bus to Memphis at 9am. So when I woke up at 6am and there was no Nick lying on the on the kitchen floor I got worried. Our host woke up to say goodbye and instead joined me in the pursuit of my fellow muso. We headed to the regular pub we had been frequenting, Turtle cove, which is as many bars in NOLA a 24 hour bar. I then asked the barman if he had seen a South African anywhere, and the barman replied “Norwegian looking South African guy, looks kind of like Harry Potter?”

Turned out he was last seen at 7am at that bar and had vanished since. After calling the police station, Hospitals and asking almost every bar on bourbon street he showed up later that afternoon. He had gotten bourbon faced again and this time got given a ride to a party, of which he thought was walking distance from home and he walked in the complete opposite direction.

After a celebration by busking with the steam boats in a unicorn outfit with our hosts we managed to catch the next bus to Memphis to check out BB Kings blues club on Beale street.

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