How we stumbled into a New Orleans ghetto...
...without meaning to. All we wanted to do was to visit the local cemetary. It's really not as strange as it sounds - but having seen enough ads for cemetary tours to last us a lifetime, we decided that maybe New Orleans cemetaries were worth a visit.
Stepping out of the French Quarter one afternoon to head over to the nearest cemetary that we had found of our map, the scene changed drastically. While the French quarter had narrow streets and balconies crowded with chairs and quaint store signs hanging over every window, the area surrounding the cemetary looked bleak and abandoned. We crossed the street that divided the French Quarter from the neighbouring district rather timidly and approached the gate to the cemetary only to find it locked. I was a little dissapointed and relieved all at the same time.
We saw what seemed like a grocery store off in distance so we headed over to pick up hot sauce for Erx to bring back to Singapore, and where I found a Coke machine selling all sorts of brand name soft drinks for a 25 cents. And as we left the grocery store I pointed out a path cutting through a group of houses that we could take- it seemed less dubious than the rather abandoned looking street.
As we made our way down the path and through the rows of houses, I began to notice that there were many toys of sad-looking condition strewn about in the grass. Taking a harder look at the houses, I realized that most of the windows were boarded up. Groups of people that were gathered off the path looked at us intently as we passed. In the meantime Erx cheerily said "hello!" to every person we passed on the path.
When we finally near the end of the ghetto, I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Hey look!" Pikka said, pointing across the street. "There's our hotel!"
