Location: New Orleans, Louisiana, USA

IT. HAS. BEEN.

THREE. WHOLE. YEARS.

Three years since Canadians got called back home and my big ‘quit my job and sell my car’ 9 month trip through Asia was abruptly cut short. Booo! I have plans to make up for some of that lost time later this year but in the meantime… Why not scratch the itch with a little weekend getaway to New Orleans!

I called up my friend Pauline from university last week and said ‘is there an above zero % chance you’d want to go to New Orleans next week?’ Much to my excitement she replied with ‘higher than you think’. Queue the muffled squeals coming from my cubicle at work.

Tears maybe too? Just a couple.

I woke up at ass o’clock to catch my first flight to Vancouver as my stomach flip flopped with the anticipation of finally getting to explore a new place. Is this really happening?

Backpack packed. Check.

Walking boots on. Check.

Kiss my dog on the head. Check.

Three flights, a five minute all out sprint through Denver airport, and some heart stopping turbulence later and I made it! The very first thing I noticed walking off the plane was the air. Heat and humidity. On my skin?! Impossible. It feels a little silly to care about such an small thing enough to mention it… but after being cooped up in the north for so long every detail feels wild and fresh. I felt alive sitting in the back of a cab, watching the city lights approaching and listening to the driver cheerfully chatting away in a heavy southern / Creole accent while I gawked out the window. Despite my exhaustion (I’d been awake for 20 hours at this point) I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the newness of it all.

Pauline met me in the lobby of the hostel where I literally threw down my backpack and jumped at her for a bear hug – it’s been 4 years since we’ve seen each other after all. Straight away we ventured out into the warm night in search of food. Music throbbed all around us: a mix of Friday night club beats, a little bit of jazz and even a lion dance drumming parade for a wedding. Neon lights and gas lamps lit up the stone streets. We found a restaurant my cab driver recommended, Oceana Cajun and Creole Grill, and decided to settle in for some late night local fair.

A bit run-down and right in the heart of the French Quarter, the restaurant looked and felt exactly how I had imagined it would. Terracotta tiles, neon signs and brightly painted tables filled the small eclectic space. Cajun fries, seafood gumbo, pecan pie and some local beer made for a delicious spread over which to catch up. Within minutes, Pauline and I fell right back into step, chatting about anything and everything, bringing each other up to speed on our lives. I watched blackened scallops, alligator skewers and crab cakes pass us by- mentally taking note for future meals. I’m going to eat so much food here Pauline is going to have to roll me onto the plane to get back home.

I could have talked for hours more if it weren’t for that pesky 3:30 a.m. wake-up getting to both of us, so we rounded back to the hostel intent on talking, eating and excitedly running our way around the city tomorrow.

Here’s to being back out in the world!

Sav