After leaving the Gumbo Shop, we walked past Jackson Square on our way to Frenchman Street, where we had heard the real Jazz was at.
But first, remember how I was making fun of all the white hick dudes playing fortune-teller? So I snapped a pic of this guy for proof, and he quipped at me, “Oh, I guess this one’s never seen a fortune-teller?” to which I flatly replied, “No.” Then I got home and had to have a good laugh, because of course in this picture the fat, white, bald, fortune-teller is perfectly surrounded by some sort of glowy aura. I guess this proves he must have been the real thing. Only explanation I can think of… 😉
On the way to Frenchman we passed an arts fair where you could watch the artists working. New Orleans is just so alive with art, all the time.
But, we finally made it to the promised land: a great jazz club. And goddamn it was awesome.
In The Spotted Cat (http://www.spottedcatmusicclub.com/) we sipped on a Sazeracs (this time I watched the bartender to ascertain that it was done right), and listed to some badass live Jazz
It was just so fun. The band was lively, the bar was packed, and couples swing danced in front of us. The Smoking Time was on point; that trombone player was letting it loose, he was definitely my favorite. Then the fiddler got out a saw and started playing it with his bow. What?! Never seen that before, and it was damn cool. I could have happily sat there all night listening to them. The atmosphere of the bar was so different because everyone was just enthused about the jazz, not that seedy hook-up tension that pervades cheaper places. It felt alive and exciting and just happy. We talked to some nice older dude and this European girl that was couch surfing with him, all the way from Lithuania. At the end of the second set we decided it was late enough we should go home, but I as soon as we were out the door I was already wanting more, and I have a feeling I will be for a long time to come.