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A few years ago my company shipped me to New Orleans for a few days for an “Editors Boot Camp,” a workshop on how to best shape and present a news article. I spent most of the time in the hotel, talking shop. But three were a few times when I was able to sneak out and explore the French Quarter. I loved the balconies dripping with green grasses and tropical houseplants, the voodoo shops, the muffuletta (putting pickled olives, peppers and veggies on on sandwich is inspired), the chicory coffee, and the lights and overblown tomfoolery of Bourbon Street at night.
I had a tremendous dinner of oysters and barbecue shrimp, New Orleans style, a dish I’ve been craving ever since.
At the time, I didn’t have a camera, so I had to use my (crappy) Palm Treo to take a few shots. There are a couple of good ones, featuring the famous Preservation Hall and the house William Faulkner wrote his first book in.
It was only a two-day trip, with little free time, but it was enough for the jazz city to stick to me. I can’t wait to get back.
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