we don't need no stinkin' cd

The hills may not be filled with the sound of music.  But the river certainly is.

I arrived at my hotel in New Orleans this morning about 10 AM to discover that check-in time is 4 PM.  After my all-nighter that was not particularly good news.  Plus I discovered I had booked myself into the wrong hotel. 

I thought I was going to be staying at the same hotel where I stayed on my last visit -- in the middle of the French Quarter.  Instead, I am on the northern border.  About eight blocks away.

But this is the home of gumbo -- southern hospitality and the French joy for life all stewed together.  The desk clerk took pity on me and gave me the first available clean room.  After only a fifteen minute wait.

I should have napped.  Instead, I showered and headed out the door for the music festival.

And I discovered I was wrong about Jazzfest.  It comes along later in the month.  But the French Quarter Festival is happening right now.  All along the Mississippi waterfront.  On 22 separate stages.  Some, obviously, larger than others.

I wandered west from Jackson Square to Harrah's casino ("I'm shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on in here.") sampling the music.  From progressive jazz to Dixieland to blues to Cajun folk tunes.  It was all there.

It is easy to compare the waterfront to Disneyland.  After all, Disney stole the look and feel of the quarter for his New Orleans Square. 

The big difference though, is the audience.  Even though there were quite a few I'm-going-to-stand-here-and-dare-you-to-entertain-me types, they were balanced out by the people who kicked off their shoes and danced in the grass or who grabbed a parasol and strutted their stuff.

All of the musicians were very good.  And whoever set up the stages knew exactly what they were doing.  The sound systems at each stage gave the audience the full force of each performer.  But the sound did not bleed over from one stage to the next.

As I walked from one venue to the next, the sound from one stage disappeared just as I could hear the sound from the next stage.  Similar to the type of zone sound systems that Disneyland popularized.

The only thing I did not do was sample the food along the music route.  I was so enthralled with the music, I ignored the Louisiana food booths.  If you know me very well, the music must have been good for me to have passed up food.

But there is always tomorrow.

Filled with good music, I walked back to the hotel.  I was tempted to ignore my moral qualms about using pedicabs, but this guy seemed far too relaxed to be bothered with a fare.