Famous Blue Raincoat

It finally happened in the train station in Charlottesville, Virginia. My accent broke. 

My accent has been erring more on the British side this whole trip until I was in Cville on my way to New Orleans chatting to a "N'awlins" native and his family about what to do while I was in town. And my crisp vowels and sharp consents went *poof* and disappeared into the ether.¹

As you might have imagined from my previous update I was quite pleased to leave Richmond so the news that I would need to take a rail replacement to Charlottesville, Virginia then had a 7 hour layover before getting on a 24 hour train did not dampen my enthusiasm one bit. 

The afternoon I spent a lovely day in Cville (as it is colloquially known). It's a very quaint little town that oddly enough kind of reminded me of reading high street layouts with brick buildings and pavements. It differed from Reading by, not only being sunnier, but also having a much more bohemian feeling. I spent my time there mooching around the second hand stores looking for a coat with a removable liner. I had a good time poking around the Lowe's vintage store but more success in Arsenic and Antique Lace and found a new coat with a zip in liner which I've been looking for for about a year now but can't find in Europe for love nor money. 

At time of writing I've had a chance to wear the coat a bit and it's a wonderful coat. It's one of those true vintage pieces that you can just put on and feel fabulous because it's got the structure and form to give you that effortless film noir look. However, even when you remove the lining the outer is still wool. New Orleans was 30 degrees.² 

New Orleans is very differentes from every other stop I've been to so far. A party town through and through but you can feel history in the air as soupy as the ever present humidity.³ 

Following many recommendations I went to Cafe du Monde for Beignets which are basically square shaped doughnuts absolutely drenched in powdered sugar. Apparently that single site is the largest used of powdered sugar in the state of Louisiana. Traditionally Beignets are eaten with chicory coffee. 

While I was waiting in line there was a guy performing country music on top of a truck. It made for a nice distraction as the line was about 20 minutes. But what most amused me was in-between absolutely belting out country classics, playing the guitar and Trombone he was thanking everyone who gave him money. Sometimes without removing the Trombone first. Gotta love Southern manners.

I then made my way to the French Market. Originally established as a trading post by the local native American tribes before being the first French outpost when New Orleans was founded. It's now a bit of a tourist trap that specialises in selling more African inspired things and food. It is also where I continued to test my theory that to talk to people is to sit at the bar. So I perched myself at the bar of one of the food stands and proceeded to order a catfish po boy. 

For those of you who don't know. I'm allergic to shellfish. It won't kill me but it will cause some pretty extreme facial swelling, something I discovered after a run in with crab. So eating in New Orleans has been a little bit of a challenge because if you go away and Google "what to eat in New Orleans" basically the entire list will be some form of shellfish. And in a city famed for a dish called "gumbo" I want you to guess what a po boy is. 

If you guessed sandwich you would be correct. But I've basically had to interrogate every single person giving me food about what it is, what's in it, and if it's been near a lobster. The poor waitstaff are not paid enough to deal with my nonsense and I became a really good tipper while in New Orleans. 

But while at the food stand in the French Market I took the opportunity in a lull to interrogate the locals about what I should try. Apparently the crab is excellent. 

I recommend doing a walking tour of New Orleans. So far it's the only city in the US where you can really see the layers of history piled on top of each other like strata of the earth. Once you get past the top layer of the party town on Bourbon Street and, shall we say, fragrant back alleys, you can appreciate the beautiful architecture of the French Quarter and lively free jazz the city is so known for on Frenchman Street.⁴

The train from New Orleans to Chicago was a fine experience and probably one of my favourite ones so far, not only because I got a roomette this time and therefore some decent sleep. Leaving New Orleans at about 2pm the tracks follow the Mississippi for hours so you get beautiful views of the bayou and can slowly watch as the world around you turns from swamp to Forest to farm. 

I was less thrilled the next morning when Amtrak lived up to its reputation for never being on schedule by arriving an hour early into Chicago meaning I was in the shower when they announced that breakfast would be closing in 10 minutes. 

As I will be passing back through Chicago on my way back east in a few weeks I wasn't too worried about doing everything while I was there. That and I've been a little museumed out over my trip. Because of this I took the opportunity while in Chicago to spend as much time outside walking. 

I typically like to go to thrift or second hand stores in new cities because they're often in more interesting suburbs although I think Culture Trip needs to get a better dictionary because I have a very different definition of flea Market than it does.

I had dinner at Pizza Uno which was conveniently two doors down from my hostel. I tried a Numero Uno deep dish which was a house special. It was good and I'm glad I had a deep dish in Chicago but after being traumatised as a small child by my father with cooked tomatoes I am still not convinced on pizza.

I thought I was blending in really well until the guy at Subway when I was buying lunch informed me that my accent and outfit, and not my surprise at the size of the medium cup, was what gave me away as a foreigner. 

Which…. To be fair to him I did have my shirt fully unbuttoned and tucked to form a wrap top,⁵ but you could see my vest underneath. The contrast between my outfit and the other other customers, who were all amish, could not have been stronger. 

⁶

Despite having spent more time in museums in the last 2 weeks than in the last few years I did go to the Art Institute of Chicago on my last day which I enjoyed. Art isn't really my thing but I am a classy lady and have now been cultured. 

Now to chase the sunset.