Auld Sweet Olive Bed and Breakfast
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TripAdvisor Reviews Auld Sweet Olive Bed and Breakfast New Orleans
Travel Blogs from New Orleans
... in Jackson Square, at certain times of day you can hear the steamboat Natchez playing its calliope, bouncy jazzy songs broadcast over the city, marred only by a few high notes which are slightly off-key. And walking on Royal Street we enjoyed street artists, musicians, mimes, artists who set up shop right on the street curbs; it reminded my very much of Cambridge, Massachusetts in the early 70s when you could find free entertainment by ...
... local we have spoken too when we ask them what they recommend in terms of a 'true New Orleans experience'. They say it's where we will see the best blues/jazz clubs, get the best food and meet the best southern people. It's more off the radar than bourbon st is, and the local vibe isn't ruined there. It's supposed to be a much more authentic New Orleans experience as opposed to a tourism based strip like bourbon st.
Frenchmen street lived up to its name. ...
... except for Nicole and we weren't dissapointed. The chicken was delicious. The skin tasted a bit like pork crackle and had a little bit of spice.
After dinner we met up with our new friends, Mark and Rachel, from San Fran to head up to the ballroom in our hotel to do some ghost hunting. We tried everything from the lights on, to lights off, to flash photography and video but to our dissapointment we came up with nothing. The ghost hunting got us hungry again so we ...
... family properties, some of them do not provide free wifi and breakfast but to Gold and Diamond guests. A few days of having to pay for said amenities and you are better off paying the $95/annual fee for the HHonors Visa Rewards card and getting complimentary Gold status.) we were able to get into our rooms at 7:30 am. God Bless Ayana at the front desk, very sweet and super helpful. We loaded the bell cart, left the Highlander with valet and after getting our belongings ...
... of clubs, it was a day to dance. I danced with a white woman about my age, danced even longer with a black woman about half my age, and danced again with some men somewhere in between. And with each swish of my hips, each rhythmic throw of my shoulders, my beads danced with me. And as visions of Ruth's dancing partnership visited and fled, I swayed my way, alone in a crowd, through the cold comforting rains of Mardi Gras.