In Step with New Orleans
The moment we touched down, I could feel the pulse, the warmth, the welcome. It was early afternoon when we landed in New Orleans to celebrate seventy-eight years of community among distinguished Black women. The weather was perfect, and the humidity had its way with my hair.
After checking in, my hubby and I headed straight to Drago’s, home of the city’s famous charbroiled oysters. We ordered a little of everything: oysters, crab dip, and red beans and rice. The food hit just right, seasoned, soulful, and worth every bite. By the end, I was full and ready to walk it off.
That evening, I met up with friends for a stroll through the French Quarter. Returning here brought back memories of my Grambling State University days, when Bayou Classic and Mardi Gras meant long weekends of laughter and music. This time, the rhythm felt different. The pace was slower, soulful, rooted in connection instead of chaos.
Madame Maria led the way, her energy setting the tone as we moved through the French Quarter. She stopped to greet Uncle Sam, a local icon in his white suit, red bow tie, and star-spangled hat. Watching them pose was pure joy, the kind of moment that captures the humor and heart of New Orleans.
Madame Maria and Uncle Sam, two spirits of the Quarter, remind us that joy never needs an introduction.
We spent the night drifting through bars and galleries, listening to musicians who turned the sidewalks into stages. The mix of saxophones, trumpets, and voices carried through the air, wrapping the night in melody. By the time we returned to the hotel, the city seemed to rest with us, its music softening into morning.
The next evening carried the same flow. Walking felt like the best way to see the city up close. Each block revealed something new: a cozy spot where couples shared dinner, a musical sound, whether jazz, R&B, or rap, rolling out of an open door, or the random sweet smell of beignets. It felt like energy and music were keeping the same beat.
By late that night, the pace picked up again. We wandered toward Frenchmen Street, where the city’s heartbeat had our attention. Music blasting from every doorway, each sound pulling us closer. Karaoke carried from one bar, a live R&B band filled the next, and just ahead, a ghost tour moved through the crowd with people caught up in every word. The city swayed, and swayed along as well, club hopping and dancing the night away until wee hours in the morning.
Food options were everywhere: gumbo, oysters, shrimp, and red beans and rice, each dish cooked with pride and soul. In New Orleans, food isn’t just something you eat; it’s how people tell their stories. Somewhere between the sound of brass and the taste of red beans, I realized this trip was about more than travel. It was about connection.
In our free time, we shared good food and lively conversation at a few local favorites. At Spicy Mango, we ordered shrimp ceviche, oxtail red beans, and Joshua bread, better known as Johnny Cake. At Sun Chong, the Gumbo Dumplings and Bulgogi hit all the right notes with a touch of spice.
Another day, my hubby and I tried Willie Mae’s NOLA for the first time. We started with seafood gumbo, followed by their famous fried chicken, fried catfish etouffee with sweet potatoes, cabbage, and mac and cheese, and ended with praline and white chocolate bread pudding that lived up to every word of praise.
Every dish had its own story. The weekend was our beautiful faces, full hearts, and a connection that felt authentic.
Our last day started slowly. The hubby and I skipped breakfast and headed to Magazine Street that afternoon to check out Art & Eyes. We met Chloe, who helped the hubby find the perfect frames. One conversation about eyewear turned into another about style, sustainability, and secondhand treasures. By the end, Chloe and I shared our appreciation for quality over quantity goods, and the hubby and I left with new frames.
Later, we stopped by The Hat Loft and met Ms. Monet, who had a gift for matching personality with style. She fitted me for a snap cap, and I picked out a few I loved—plus a fedora that I couldn’t resist wearing out of the store. My husband found a Cuban fedora that fit him perfectly, and I added a couple more snap caps to the mix. As we stepped out, Monet’s warm goodbye stayed with us, and the music outside reminded me we were still in New Orleans.
The days moved quickly, each one filled with its own flow and discovery. The reason for my visit was to celebrate friendship, but New Orleans added its own kind of lesson. We came together across twenty-seven chapters to celebrate seventy-eight years of fellowship with a beautiful gala.
New Orleans reminded me that culture doesn’t divide; it reminds us we belong. Like Paris, it carries a rhythm of art, food, and conversation that lingers long after you leave.
Every trip teaches me something new about myself and the world around me. New Orleans offered lessons in joy, grace, and connection, and proof that the best souvenirs are the stories we bring home.
Through culture, conversation, and connection, here’s to discovering beauty in every place we stand.
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