A motorcycle trip does not have to revolve around knee dragging and riding 24/7.
You can commonly hear people stating they love the "freedom" of riding a motorcycle.
The freedom of being on a moto-trip also entails enjoying your surroundings off the saddle. This was a vacation after all.
And what better environment to explore than New Orleans with a gracious host who'd live there his entire life. Life had given me everything on a silver platter.
Minus some hair on my head. You win some, you lose some.
Our first line item on the itinerary was to smash some famous New Orleans Beignet.
Cafe Du Mont is popular to many for this desert. However, Caesar brought me to a place all the locals went to - New Orleans Coffee & Beignet.
Name seemed legit.
The spot.
A New Orleans trademark desert - Beignet (Ben-yay)
Looking at that photo, I remember the taste as clear as day. Soft as a pillow, melted in your mouth like hot butter, fried to exemplary perfection, and of course sweet. It wasn't heavy or too light.
Talent hits a target that no one can hit. And the chef who made that Beignet flexed his talent into those four delicious pieces.
Next was a round around town. I was given a tour of all the hotspots, notable landmarks, and everything in between.
Caesar knew every inch of NOLA down to the cracks on the sidewalks. Seeing him navigate the french corridors and narrate its history with an instinctual pause/play soundtrack, it's hard to believe he wasn't getting paid for this. And here I was getting it for free.99.
That, my friends, is a deal desis crave for.
I'll let him do the talking:
Parks and Universities
French Corridor (But really Spanish)
Down into downtown
After covering all the major areas on four wheels, we then traveled the more notable areas on two feet.
Churches. Monuments. Restaurants. Bourbon St.
It is a city of rich culture and soul.
St. Louis Cathedral
Good ol' Andrew Jackson
Jackson square
You know what it is
The legendary Bourbon Street. Drunks were present.
The night arrived at its conclusion. Doors were closing and rest for the next day's adventures became priority.
There was something fascinating about how these friendships were forming. People were reading random internet messages from a shady guy named Sal and were opening the doors to him. People like that have a heart of gold and great personality - and that was non-evident than the person Caesar was. And still is.
__________________________
Day 4 or 5?
Starting to lose count here.
A stroll through the swamp was on the agenda for today, but not before a breakfast of omelettes and busy work. I made it tradition that I'd cook breakfast for all whom hosted me.
Caesar had to paint his son's room. And I had nothing better to do than to lend a hand.
My picasso. I call it - "whiteness"
Funny, watching paint dry reminded me of Alabama and Mississippi. And it also reminded me that I should practice some more before doing someone else's place...
Nevertheless, it was time for the Ducs to menace society.
Desmoquattro thunder and a broken clutch
Somebody brought the wrong phone
Tomfoolery. My speedo cable conveniently undone itself for this leg...
Into the swampland
And after a few 100 - er, KM/H pulls we arrived at the Jean Lafitte National Historical Park and Reserve, Barataria Preserve.
To be honest, I was expecting to be repulsed by the swamp. Maybe my time watching Scooby Doo left an impression that it was ugly and atrocious as the monsters in those episodes.
Quite the opposite, on the contrary. It was beautiful in its own unique right. Far different than the wilderness seen in the Mid-Atlantic and Smokey mountains. When removing the prospect of being an alligator's lunch, I became to appreciate its calm nature. Mother nature was just as good looking in this outfit as it was showing off its natural peaks.
Double trouble
The land that is liquid
Idk which is more bootyful
Walk the plank
In case you didn't see me
Who is that ugly ass highlighter ruining the photo
Da man.
Stretchin' the wings
Back to the bikes
My short lived career as a comedian
Our trip afterwards led us downtown for NOLA's finest burgers and cheese fries. Lunch for Caesar was the least I could do for the outing and wool under layer he convinced me was superior to my under armor garment.
Another pleasant dinner trip downtown for cheesesteaks sealed what was my time in New Orleans. The next morning held my departure for Texas.
Before we left, Caesar and I basked in the tunes of a Jazz band playing in the street. The upbeat tone of the trombone exhaust and percussion of the drums lit up the streets. Some people with all sorts of life stories took a moment to enjoy that fleeting instance of pure musical joy.
Perhaps that soundtrack was analogous to my experience with my host and this marvelous city. There was such a captivating, refreshing energy that drew me into it. Made me appreciate it for those few moments I was able to enjoy it. But I knew at the end of the night those rockstars would pack up their bags and go home. That time would come to its inevitable end. Life was to continue.
Caesar and I exchanged pleasantries in case we didn't cross paths in my early departure. Then we both called it a night.
Traveling alone has its vulnerabilities, moments of boredom, and moments of ecstasy.
Beyond those lone moments on the road, the interactions of people on your trip can leave a lasting impression to remember.
There is a piece of us that we leave with them and a piece of themselves they leave with us. Those pieces I would cherish as the miles piled on and well beyond my trip.
Caesar B. A man of New Orleans. A man of class. I was and am in debt to his hospitality. He was indeed a personality that rode 12,000 miles from NOLA to Alaska and back.
I raise my glass to you good sir.
Texas, here I come.
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