We arrived at Louis Armstrong Airport sweating. A day and a night in Los Angeles, land of the beautiful people, but we were never going to cut the mustard. A day on a boat searching for humpback whales in Tahiti followed by an overnight flight in steerage relegated us to salted and brined humming insects at the bottom of the Darwinian pile. Santa Monica held their nose as we piled into plates of East Coast oysters and snails waiting for the chance of a shower at our reluctant hotel.
Hooray for New Orleans. Katherine and Emile's quarters are sumptuous. Emile opened the gate with Moscow Mules in jars and we haven't looked back through the time warp since. The temperature is the same as Hanoi, but the company beats it hands down.