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Sugar and flour hang thick in the air, swirling in the currents that drift down from a dozen ceiling fans. Squared-off columns divide the space; powdered sugar footprints cake the worn brown tile, snake between tables. Green and white striped awnings flutter in the warm, night breeze off the Mississippi.

Waiters and waitresses in white shirts, black bow ties and paper hats stream in and out of the Café du Monde’s kitchen with trays of coffee and beignets. Two trumpets riff outside the open air restaurant. The air crackles with conversation. The sweet taste of Crescent City jazz lingers on my tongue.

— 30 —

I’ll be in New Orleans for a while, so expect more blog posts about my thoughts and observations of NOLA. I’ll also be chronicling my adventures on Twitter, where you can follow along — @jonnyeberle. As always, your comments are most welcome.

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