Kayla’s post made me nostalgic for NYC during the holidays! Frozen fingers and runny noses aside, I could walk around outside this place during this time for hours.
Brad and I spent NYE in NYC two years ago, and it’s still one of my favorite trips to date.
In other good news, I found out I’ll be road-tripping it to Montreal over Labor Day weekend! So excited.
Anyone ever been? Send any must-sees my way!
What do your travel plans look like this summer? Some of the Facets team members have plans to travel to Seattle, Montreal and even China! As your itineraries start to tighten your budget, don’t let baggage check fees overwhelm you.
An upcoming Facets feature will show you how to travel for an entire week with only a carry-on, including tips for packing undergarments and jewelry, and spelling out the few essentials needed for countless wardrobe possibilities.
(via facetsmag)
In the whirlwind that was last week, I didn’t get the chance to write about one little bar on a corner in New Orleans that is definitely worth writing about.
On the corner of Bourbon and Royal Street sits the oldest bar in the U.S., Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop. The bar was built in 1722 and is rumored to have been an underground treasure trading spot for pirates.
The original structure has been preserved and contains no electricity except for the cash registers and small lights next to them. Which means, the bar is lit completely by candlelight, along with one giant, central stone fireplace.
When you first walk in you’re blinded as it takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust. After our eyes adjusted, we grabbed an empty wooden table near the back of the bar by the piano and rearranged our candles to give off enough of a glow to see each other.
We learned this is one of the only bars in NOLA that makes hurricanes the “old-fashioned way,” layering all the different kinds of alcohol with a splash of Bacardi 151 on top for good luck.
As we sat at that little table in the back of the bar, our drinks strong and our smiles big, the candlelight danced across our faces and we agreed that bar was our favorite spot in the city.
GPOYW: The “What I looked like last week” edition
Aside from the people of New Orleans, we uncovered stories within the architecture, too. The aesthetics of the abandoned antique shops, supposed haunted mansions and quaint hotels were no doubt memorable.
The architecture, influenced by both the French and the Spanish, consists of many two- and three-story buildings, wrought iron gates and balconies and many narrow doors and windows constantly thrown open to let in fresh air.
I’ll let the photos speak for themselves.
Adventures in cooking eating: Corn-fried oysters served on grilled ciabatta bread with melted St. Andre cheese and sherry-tasso cream sauce from Palace Cafe in New Orleans
These were my first. But they certainly won’t be my last. Fried oysters, I love you.
Our favorite part of New Orleans was meeting so many uniquely talented people full of the most amazing can’t-make-it-up stories. Aside from the former fashion designer turned face-painting midget named Sunshine, one of the coolest people we met was this man, Bobby Lonero, lead signer/guitar of the New Orleans Express, an old-fashioned jazz band.
We saw Bobby and his band play at a bar creatively called The Blues Club, and we pulled him aside as the band closed their set to pay him a compliment and appreciate his music. As we got to talking, he told us the most amazing story.
“I opened for Ray Charles at the Playboy mansion in 1977,” he said. “Ray asked if he could feel my face and told me ‘You’re a Southern boy.’”
He went on to explain that Ray asked to feel his face again, shocking him as he said, ”Well now, you’re a New Orleans boy.”
Bobby told us his toes curled.
Adventures in cooking eating: Beignets from Cafe Du Monde in New Orleans
This was my first adventure with beignets, which tasted more like carnival funnel cake than delicious donut—not that that’s a bad thing.
If you’ve never tried the French-style donuts, they are basically squares of fried dough covered in a mountain of powdered sugar. Slightly addictive with a cafe au lait, it’s a good thing this place is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
After nearly everyone recommended this place and these things, we stood in line for nearly half an hour for them. It was worth it.
We waited a solid 15 minutes after checking into our hotel before hopping in a cab (which we shared, squished next to a couple of Texans) and booking it to Bourbon Street.
In order to walk through the insanity pictured below, we had to hang onto each other so we wouldn’t be pushed in different directions.
As two of the only beadless individuals on the street, I decided to grab some abandoned beads off the ground so we wouldn’t stick out so much. No sooner had I leaned over before I was called out for picking up the so-called tainted beads.
“NEVER PICK THEM UP OFF THE GROUND,” a stranger yelled at me. “IT’S RULE NUMBER EIGHT.”
Then he staggered off before I learned what the other seven rules were.
