Walks in a New City

The bus ride to New Orleans was ten hours and my stomach churned the whole way. We left San Antonio at 8pm meaning I got to enjoy two hours of Texas landscape before the sun set. I was travelling alone for the first time, about to sleep on a stranger's sofa for five days before moving on to the next city.

I drifted off to sleep around midnight but awoke at every stop. Houston and Beaumont Texas, crossing into Louisiana, then Lafayette and Baton Rouge, before crawling into a sleepy New Orleans at 5am. Even in darkness the city was a stifling 26°C and the humidity hit me like a brick wall; I wondered if this was what breathing underwater would feel like. Grabbing my suitcase, I looked around for a signpost, for any indication of where to go.

By the time I was orientated the sun had started to rise and the sky was baby pink bleeding into blue. I realised my comfy bus clothes (sweatpants and a jumper) were a grave mistake, this heat was oppressive and I was pouring with sweat. I stowed my layers in my rucksack and hoped the morning sun wouldn't burn me; the walk to my host's house would take an hour.

As soon as I started walking I was enchanted by the New Orleans architecture. The wooden shutters and wrought iron balconies reminded me of childhood trips to France and I immediately felt foolish. Why hadn't I expected a city with a French Quarter to feel French?! I kept walking. Pulling my suitcase over the uneven pavement was exhausting and I wondered how long it had been. I checked my watch. Five minutes. Oh dear.

Five more minutes passed and I was stopped in my tracks by something I didn't even know existed: a Banksy painting on the side of a drop-in centre. I didn't know much about art, but the girl standing under an umbrella seemed like the real deal. I stopped to take a picture and felt a surge of excitement. I kept moving and soon I was in the heart of the French Quarter. Beautiful and silent, the pastel houses looked so friendly. I wondered what my host's house would look like.

Twenty minutes later I realised that walking the full distance wasn't an option so I was relieved when I arrived at a tram stop. The map told me I could take the tram almost the full way and I eagerly climbed on board. Ten minutes later I arrived at a mustard yellow shotgun house with a porch covered in Mardi Gras beads. As I knocked on the screen door I was surprised to find I wasn't nervous anymore. I already knew I was going to like it here.