Saint Louis Cemetery #1

During the magical month of October, I visited New Orleans with my best friend. We fell in love with the food, the Southern hospitality, and the creepiness that seeps into every corner of the city.

On our second day in New Orleans we visited Saint Louis Cemetery #1. There are three Saint Louis cemeteries in New Orleans, but this one is the most famous. Located about one block outside of the French Quarter, where we and most adventurers stay, it was a short walk away. I'm a native Southern Californian, but I have to say, New Orleans is HOT! There are virtually no clouds, so the sun just beats down mercilessly.

So many parts of the city need restoration. I don't blame New Orleanians for not concentrating on their dead, but I must say it is a bit of a shock to see the disrepair their cemeteries are in. There's virtually no grass or flowers, the pathways are mostly dirt, and many of the tombs look like this, in shambles, forgotten.

One of my favorite tombs reminded me of river rock. At that moment I had never seen another like it. A couple of days later visiting Layfayette Cemetery in the Garden District, I noticed these were not super uncommon, but I still found it quite pleasant to look at.

Most people think that the above ground burial is because the water table is so high in New Orleans. That's not entirely untrue. No one wanted Uncle Jimmy to be floating to the surface of the ground before a headstone could be laid down. However the early inhabitants of New Orleans were French and Spanish, and their customs can be seen all over the city. I was showing a few friends of mine photos from our trip, and many were convinced we had actually been to Europe. The European influence is everywhere and it's quite beautiful.

I will never forget this first visit to a New Orleans cemetery, mostly because we got locked in. Two girls from Orange County, wearing dresses to flounce around in and talk pictures, got locked into a cemetery.

If you google New Orleans cemeteries, you'll find tons of warnings about how dangerous it is to go out on your own in the city. I'm not saying this isn't true, but I believe every city can be dangerous, especially if you go looking for trouble. But if you're alert and with people you trust, I think adventuring on your own is quite fine. We did not listen to the suggestions of books and the Internet, and we came into the cemetery on our own.

We saw tour group after tour group. New Orleans is HUGE on tourism, and it's my hope that everyone can visit there and take tours and listen to stories and leave nice tips, however we didn't take a tour for this particular visit. We had just gotten to the city and were tight on cash and tried to be our own tour guides when possible. So we're having a grand time, wandering around the cemetery, when it starts to get quiet. Eerily quite. After looking around and realizing the once full grounds are now empty, we head to the front to let ourselves out. A couple are standing outside of the cemetery gates and ask us, "How did you get in there?"

"Through the gates."

The man looks at us, and says, "The gates are locked."

But aren't there other gates leading into the cemetery? Over 100,000 people are buried here and you'd think this cemetery would be huge. However it's only about a block total, rather small, and the second gate was also closed. There had been no announcement, no person looking for stragglers. Whoever locked the gate that day, at 3 pm no less, had locked us in. The people who met us were lovely, as was everyone we met in the city, and offered their assistance. They left to look for someone to help us out.

My friend and I found a trash can, turned it upside down (sorry for the trash everywhere- we really had no choice!), and found a medium height tomb. We climbed from trash can to tomb, and then onto the 10 foot high cemetery wall. Our friendly strangers were walking down the sidewalk, and told us of how they tried to help us.

"We found the police," the man sad. "We told them there were two girls trapped in here and they needed help."

"Great," I said. "Where are they?"

"Well," he continued, "They laughed when we told them."

Not at all that uncommon, I'm sure.

"They laughed, and they drove off."

Shock. Pure and utter shock. Toto, we were not in Kansas anymore. Nothing like this would ever happen in Orange County. Maybe that's why we loved it so much.

We shimmied to a lower part of the fence and hopped down, short dresses and tights and in tact. We met two great people who offered their assistance to strangers, and we learned that the police in New Orleans is not entirely trustworthy.

It was the first of many adventures.