I've been to Austin, Texas and New Orleans, Louisiana, in a day filled with music.
Sonny, Peter and I hired a car and took a trip to Austin, a great city which Sonny lived in many years ago. We stayed in the Austin motel just on the edge of town, with its motto “So close and yet so far out”. Austin itself is very new, but that little area where we stayed was a small throwback to former days. I saw a lot of t-shirts and other stuff with the phrase “keep Austin Weird” suggesting a past history very different to the fancy high-rises and apartment blocks going up or recently completed.
We were shown round the city by our friend Michael, and it was buzzing with music and life. Michael took us first to a “typical” Austin restaurant – which basically served a huge steak and not much else! - and we went on to the music district. I heard the sound of a live bad and blasting out of one bar and dragged the others in. The band were a real hit – with a name like Sonny Wolf and Mojo Boogie, how could you go wrong? - and I was lost for the evening. The others left me headbanging (or at least trying to with my cropped hair) to a cover of AC/DC's 'Whole Lotta Rosie'...
The band played a lot of standards – Sweet Child of Mine, Honky Tonk Woman, Mustang Sally, etc – and seemed never to stop. I asked one of the locals if they ever took a break and was told “they know better than to do that!”. After a quick explanation, I got the picture. So many places in the city have Live music that when they get the customers in, they want to keep them in. Taking a break means they leave. Hard work, especially as I understood that they live from tips, not from being paid by the bar.
The following morning we drove back to Richmond, again enjoying a 3 hour, traffic free, blue-skied journey, with Blue Bonnets everywhere. I had decided to keep the hired car for the rest of the trip as Sonny and his family were having a get-together in the evening. As the planned drive to Tennessee would be around 17 hours, I thought about heading off early in the afternoon, and as we looked at the map, New Orleans was on the way. Just a 6-hour drive away from Richmond... It seems to be nothing to drive 9 hours in a day in America.
I hit the road and drove the 350 miles across the south of the country,. I had never imagined going to New Orleans, and suddenly I was there. It felt absolutely surreal, like living a dream.
After finding a cheap hotel – 60 dollars, now I am starting to rough it a bit – I got ready to leave stuff and see the city. But not without some nervousness. The area I was staying was quite rough, and when I got in the lift, a guy also got in holding a booze can in a brown bag. I later saw him cycling off on a very nice bike. Freshly stolen? We'll never know... It left me wondering whether I should really leave my passport, laptop and new camera in my room, and whether the car would be there in the morning. Then I realised I would simply have to let this feeling go. If I want to backpack again, I will have to accept that such things are risks and just be prepared to adapt if it does happen. So I took my wallet and phone and headed into the city.
In Amsterdam, there is a Blues bar called Bourbon Street, named after the central road in the French quarter in New Orleans, and I decided to go to the real thing this time. It was absolutely bouncing! The street is full of bars with live music and full of people. The music is a mixture – standards as I described before, as well as Dixie Jazz and a couple of bizarre offers. One bar proudly promoted its act as 495 pounds of soul – sure enough, the guy on stage was absolutely huge! I got there as they played the last song of the set. At the break, he just stayed put when the other band members went off – I guess it's just too much trouble to move him back and forth! Despite (or maybe because of) his size, his voice was fantastic.
As I sit here writing this in a cafe the following morning,m I hear a guy ask his friend “do you want coffee?” She answers sternly “No. I want cafe au lait”. Why does somebody behave that way? Why not just be nice? That guy must have a hard time...
Back to last night. I sat in another bar with a Dixie Jazz band, the place absolutely jammed full. I overheard a conversation behind me - “Oh, you're from Texas! We are from Sweden, do you know where Sweden is?” The answer, to the Swede's amazement was affirmative. Another stereotype blown. There is this image that Americans don't know anything about countries outside of the US. On the other hand, how many Europeans know the geography of America in detail, or could tell you where the different states are?
The Swede followed up by asking about the lady's drink. “What's in a Margarita?” The Texan patiently explained.
Other highlights of the evening included going to the home of the Handgrenade Рthe suitably named drink which has become a signature of Bourbon Street. Sadly, there was a very good but very miserable solo guitar player on stage, who had clearly put off all the locals. The bar was completely empty, as 100's walked by to other places with clich̩ bands playing crowd pleasers.
Coming to New Orleans has been great. It is a flying visit, but I will be back – anywhere with this much music is worth a second visit.
This morning, I woke to a huge fight in the room above me. Police came and commotion ensured. Time to get on the road again.
