New Orleans, USA

The route from the Bahamas to New Orleans involved a stop back through Miami, which felt a bit like revisiting the scene of a crime (RIP my phone). But I made it to New Orleans in one piece, and within about ten minutes of walking around I understood what all the fuss was about.

Bourbon Street and the French Quarter have an atmosphere that’s completely their own. Even during the day there’s music spilling out of every doorway, the smell of Cajun food hanging in the air, and a general feeling that the rules are slightly different here. I walked around for hours, just soaking it in. Later I caught the ferry across the Mississippi River and back, which doesn’t sound particularly thrilling on paper but there’s something about crossing that river - a river you’ve heard about your whole life - that gives you a bit of a moment.

The practical side of travel reared its ugly head with a massive load of washing. My clothes had got soaked on the flight from the Bahamas to Miami (don’t ask), so the first task was finding a laundromat. Glamorous stuff.

Back in the French Quarter the next day, I got completely swindled by a street “busker.” I use the term loosely - more of a con artist with a guitar. The kind of bloke who plays two chords, tells you a sob story, and before you know it you’ve handed over twenty bucks for nothing. Walked away feeling like an idiot, but also slightly impressed at his commitment to the hustle.

Lunch at an Irish pub (because of course there’s an Irish pub) was followed by meeting up with Ari to watch the Euros, which was a good time. That evening we headed to Igor’s pub to watch the Miami game. JT was with us but was in a bad way - he’d eaten some dodgy meat earlier and was paying the price. Poor bloke spent more time in the bathroom than watching the game.

New Orleans was a brief stop but it left an impression. It’s a city with a soul you can actually feel. Next stop: Cancun.