Busking in New Orleans

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I arrived in New Orleans finally after the second time of asking. Upon reaching my destination, I was greeted by a band playing at the baggage claim. This was my first indication of what New Orleans was going to be like. After collecting my bag, I proceeded outside to what I was told was a cold day in new Orleans, but the humidity hit me straight away. After queuing for a taxi, I was soon driving into the city. The sheer amount of cemeteries was incredible, they were also strangely beautiful. New Orleans has yet to recover from the hurricane, and many buildings still lay abandoned and in disrepair. The taxi pulled up outside the hostel. The India Backpackers hostel, looks more like a hippie commune. Painted brightly with murals painted around all of the walls, some people actually just live here, with stays lasting as long as months. They have a tv room, kitchen, outside patio area with above ground swimming pool, plus boards indicating all the live music events happening in the city. After dumping my bag in the dorm room, I set about meeting some some people and exploring downtown new Orleans.



Downstairs two guys Tyler and Luke were just checking out. They were brothers. Luke had been living in Guatemala for the last 4 years, a writer and human rights activist. They were now travelling around America with no actual permanent residence, so for all intense purposes they were homeless. They gave me a lift into downtown, which was no mean feat considering their car was stocked with all their worldly possessions.



So we arrived in the French quarter, the first business was getting to a bar, a vodka/redbull in me, and away we went. Bourbon street was being shut off when we got there a regular occurrence assumedly to stop drunken tourists from being struck by agitated new Orleaneans. It as a crazy street that is difficult to describe, live sex shows are easily advertised in near by buildings as well as the numerous strip joints. A parade of music and dancers frolicked their way down the street. When I asked what was the occasion I was told, "it's a Wednesday." a good indication into what makes new Orleans kick. My two companions set up shop on bourbon street and started busking, playing a guitar and mandolin, while I people watched. Taking in all the sights, and the eclectic mix of people on this one street. People painted gold, people dressed as swamp monsters, women in barely any clothes, men wearing bras. Nowhere else in the world would you get so many different people on one street on a random Wednesday night. The going was tough for Tyler and Luke, so a brief respite was called for subways. Tyler and Luke can best be described as bohemian to the core and so fit in with the style of the city, and the longer I stayed with them the more I felt the vibe of new Orleans. On returning to bourbon street it had become darker and so the party had really started. Live music poured out of so many different venues. People stood on balconies throwing down beads to tourists who picked them off the ground as is they were made of pure gold rather than plastic and string. Neon lights flashed. Tyler and Luke headed onto royale street in an attempt to secure some money too buy drinks later. I wanted to spend some more time on bourbon street but the longer I was there, the more I realised that bourbon street is for tourists. It's doesn't really exist for the people of the city. As much as I was loving the booze, the lights and the music, I wanted something more from the trip, so I went to meet my American counterparts. We set up on a corner behind the cathedral, and got to playing we soon encountered over musicians, who came over and jam sessions ensued. I learnt their stories, everyone in new Orleans has a story, people gathered around in a circle bringing something to the mix, and as soon as some people left others just replaced them. Luke was an improviser creating songs off the bat, with random quirky lyrics to try and get tourists to part with a dollar. We found a table in a nearby skip and that became the central point of our group. Until a couple of people asked for it to furnish their flat, reminding you of the poverty line in new Orleans. It was interesting to hear everybody's stories, there was Kim, originally from Detroit, who was waiting around for his girlfriend to get off work, she was a stripper on bourbon street.



Invigorated by my group, I soon picked up the guitar, and started busking too. The first dollar I made was signed by my busking friends, as a unique achievement in new Orleans. We bought beer with the money we made, and sat on cupboard we found outside. We played and drank into the early hours of the morning, enjoying each others company and realising how fleeting these meetings were, but for one night I felt part of something, I entertained people, and I got to meet so many different people. I couldn't have asked for more from my first night in New Orleans.

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