Bon Temps in Gothic New Orleans

T'was a dark and stormy night when we flew into New Orleans through thick cloud and fog on Thursday. In Adelaide we may pride ourselves on being the murder capital of the world, but we've got NOTHING on this city (they've got more churches than us too). It may have been unseasonably cold -- the coldest few days they've had in over twenty years, but I was as happy as a clam and prompty set about getting my preternatural geek on. As I doubt many of you have failed to notice, I'm a bit of a vampire buff, and on Friday night Mads and I took one of the French Quarter's ghost, vampire and murder tours. If any of you ever find yourselves in New Orleans, these tours are the best way to learn about the city's soridid and tragic history. Mads and I had spent most of the daylight hours happily traipsing around the French Quarter taking snaps of all the pretty buildings and were rather horrified to learn that they were actually (apparently--though not sure how credible some of the stories were) the sites of some rather grizzly murders (Medical experiments conducted on Negro slaves, jealous lovers chopping their beloveds into little pieces, copy cat vampire attacks). For details try Googling Lalaurie Mansion and the Old Ursuline Conven). By far the most chilling stories though had nothing to do with the supernatural, but of the supernatural fans. Following the release of Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire and the other Vampire Chronicles, New Orleans aquired a large population of people practicing vampirism (paying thousands of dollars to get artifical fangs put in, bleaching their skin and drinking human blood). We went to a pub that during the late 70s and 80s actually added real blood to their bloody marys, and there's still an active vampire bar called the Dungeon. At the most recent election these guys petitoned to have the electricity wires removed because they were interfering with their flight patterns! More disturbing than these delusions though, these 'vampires' have been responsible for a number of murders in the city. Apparently there was a guy in New Orleans for a conference in 2003 who decided to check out the Dungeon. He ended up going home with three goth chicks who proceeded to slit his throat, skin him and drink his blood out of dixie cups. The girls were charged with murder, and two are in jail; however, the other one has now been released on probabtion. (Don't worry Mum, I may love my vampires, but only in fiction. We stayed well away from the Dungeon.)
We did, however, visit Louis and Lestat's house (one of only three of the original French buldings in the Quarter that hasn't been destroyed by fire or flood--most of the architecture is actually Spannish), and I did drag Mads along with me to check out the Lafayette Cemetery and the Mayfair Witches house int he Garden District.
Spooky stories aside, I have to finish off my bit by saying that I have fallen head over heels for this city. The French Quarter is gorgeous, with gas lamps for street lights and shuttered windows everywhere, little gardens peeking out from alley ways and iron lace balconies, jazz musicians busking on the pavement, and cafes and restauraunts everywhere you look. All of it is just a little bit shabby, porches slump and paint peels, yet it still retains it's former charm and beauty. I really don't want to leave. If you don't hear from me again, I've somehow scraped together the deposit for a town house in the Quarter and am happily lounging on my new balcony with a bienguet (think that's how it's spelt) and a mug of cafe au lait, writing ghost stories!

Margs

P.S. We don't have spell check and I haven't read over this, so appologies for the shonky sentences!