NEW ORLEANS -- Stroll Bourbon Street morning, noon and especially night, and you're sure to see the unusual. But aside from one or two clubs and the occasional Dixieland parade, the music you'll hear is generic.

The most famous street in the French Quarter is so geared to tourists that all you're guaranteed is place after place where Brown-Eyed Girl is played well, poorly or so-so.

Instead, head over to Faubourg Marigny (``mare-a-nay''), the neighborhood just to the east, where off-work musicians and locals convene to hear the cultural gumbo of the Big Easy -- jazz, blues, zydeco, klezmer and more. Its hub, Frenchmen Street, is neither as crowded nor as loony as Bourbon. But I did see a pair of howling-drunk young drifters at Frenchmen and Chartres asking passersby for money: They said they were honeymooning right there, inside an abandoned Lucky Dog wiener pushcart.

This is New Orleans, after all.

The French Quarter trickles out to the east into quiet houses and warehouses. Cross Esplanade Avenue and you nudge into Marigny, a warren of curb-close, two-story bungalows and an occasional dilapidated mansion. The area was developed in the early 1800s by a Creole gambler-politician named de Marigny and settled by aristocrats' black mistresses and their mixed-blood offspring. The neighborhood remains naturally integrated. Local artists, priced out of the French Quarter, entered the mix in recent years.

Frenchmen Street is a funky mix of low-slung supply stores, boutiques, maybe 10 restaurants or coffeehouses and almost as many music rooms. The whole street extends 3 ½ miles due north, almost to Lake Pontchartrain, but you'll want to visit the close-in six or so blocks between Decatur and Rampart.

AN EARLY START

Bring your morning coffee and pastry to Washington Square, a one-block park where some start their day with arm-swooping tai-chi exercises. There are kids at play, and Tulane film students might be shooting a project. It's tranquil before noon, and you can hear the boat whistles four blocks south, at the city's port.

It comes to life when the shops open after 10 a.m. or so.

People-watching is prime. Florida-born Shannon Smith comes by on her way to work at the 13 Monahan bistro. Her long hair is dyed DayGlo red. Here comes All Amzie, a painter whose work is shown in the Quarter. He is dressed in black from top hat to sneakers, and with his white beard and green-skull sunglasses, he looks like a blend of Abe Lincoln and Jerry Garcia.

Time for lunch. Cross Chartres from the FAB bookstore to the Praline Connection, where the menu is largely local specialties. It's a spacious, large-window cafe with great and filling fare. An enormous bowl of jambalaya and an iced tea weigh in at $12.

Then stroll Marigny to see what great eating spots you'll want to hit later, and to get a handle on what bands will play after sunset. Phone poles and blank walls are stapled to the max with fliers.

And look at the houses, some derelict but others as elaborately restored and painted as anything you'd find in San Francisco.

In early afternoon, the clubs and taverns open their doors to let in fresh air and exhale music from sound systems.

There's live music -- lots of it -- when the sun slides and dinner's done on Frenchmen. If word-of-mouth or phone-pole posters haven't given you a clue, grab a copy of Off Beat, a free and widely available slick-paper monthly about the New Orleans music scene. Or just walk the pavement, keeping an ear toward opened doorways.