Part of the charm of this city is the constant hum of music that seems to emit from, if not every building, at least most street corners. The continual procession of the great jazz-artist tunes to hum along to, a welcome distraction from the every day sounds of car horns and sirens.

Take last night when I was wistfully listening to Louis Armstrong…The trumpet. The raked-over-gravel rasped tone. The tux and white hanky (okay, that one is from memory )…Tinerate, what a talent he was and just a pity that the impersonator was not quite up to scratch. Not bad to be sure but not the same as the original. It never is though which is most probably why I always say don’t mess with a classic (or is that if it ain’t broke don’t fix it??? Mmm, thinking…thinking…) Anyhoo, I guess that’s why I’m a TCM tragic! But, having said that, I am in Mr Armstrong’s home town and imitation is the highest form of flattery so…(I know you get it and I digress, again )…back to construction discussion…

But there is another side to this colonial settlement. And no, I am not talking about the activities of Bourbon Street which I think has most probably already been well and truly documented! Instead, I refer to the amazing architecture…

…with the elaborate ironwork and doors that dazzle.

Then there are the long stoned laneways, leading to some enchanting garden oasis or private just-out-of-reach secret courtyard…

But my favourite finds would have to be the retro restaurants, especially those with the original gas lights as I discovered in Antoines (which, BTW, is apparently the second oldest dining establishment in the whole of the States!)

Tinerate, their tiled floors, dark stained wood furniture and crisp white tablecloths seem to capture the real spirit (and my imagination ) of the old fashioned edgy Big Easy…

Till next time.

Tipsy Pipsy xo