Galveston or New Orleans?

Here Galveston has what New Orleans simply lacks. The island has sand along most of its Gulf side, from the busy Seawall stretch and the family beaches at Stewart and East Beach to the quieter West End and the state park, with warm water close to the room. It is not a postcard shore: the water is murky, sargassum can drift in and rip currents form by the jetties.

New Orleans sits on a river and a lake that nobody swims in. The nearest sand is on the Mississippi coast well over an hour away, and it is just as brownish and shallow as Galveston's, so a beach day from the city means a long drive to a lesser version of what Galveston has on its doorstep.

The two eat from the same Gulf, with oysters, shrimp and po'boys on both menus, but at very different levels. Galveston keeps it simple: fried platters, gumbo and chargrilled oysters in waterfront rooms on the Seawall or by the harbour, with Tex-Mex and barbecue filling in and the best independent places around the Strand.

New Orleans is one of the few American cities with a cuisine of its own. Old-line Creole dining rooms in the French Quarter, Cajun dishes from the bayous, neighbourhood po'boy shops in Mid-City, beignets by Jackson Square and cocktails like the Sazerac make eating a reason to travel there, which Galveston never claims to be.

Galveston's history is that of a rich Victorian port: the cast-iron facades of the Strand, porch-lined houses in the East End, Bishop's Palace and the story of the 1900 storm, with the tall ship Elissa at the harbour. It fills a day or two well.

New Orleans goes deeper and older. The French Quarter is an unusually complete colonial town, with the Cabildo where Louisiana passed to the United States in 1803, and the Garden District, the above-ground tombs and the National WWII Museum add more. Neither city is built on great art collections; the pleasure in both lies in the streets, but New Orleans has far more of them.

Both cities hold Mardi Gras, and that is where the likeness ends. Outside Carnival, a night in Galveston means a pub or wine bar on the Strand or a beach patio on the Seawall, and the island is quiet early, particularly on weeknights and in the cooler months.

New Orleans has no closing time and lets drinks travel down the street in plastic cups. Bourbon Street stays loud until dawn, while Frenchmen Street, the Bywater and the corner bars offer a more local night that drifts on foot from one place to the next. Neither is a club city; the difference is that New Orleans keeps going.

Both are flat, wet and too hot for comfort outdoors in high summer, so the interest in each lies in water and wildlife. Galveston has the slight edge for birdwatchers: it sits on a major migration flyway, and Bolivar Flats and High Island fill with warblers, spoonbills and shorebirds in spring, with dolphins often beside the ferry and good pier and jetty fishing.

New Orleans counters with cypress swamps and bayous within an hour, where boat tours and kayaks pass alligators, plus the Barataria Preserve boardwalks and the old live oaks of City Park. Swamp and alligator scenery against coastal marsh and birdlife is the real choice.

The choice of outings is about as wide in each, but they lead in different directions. From Galveston nearly everything points to Houston: Space Center Houston, the Museum District with the Menil and the Rothko Chapel, and the San Jacinto Monument, all reached by car.

From New Orleans the classic day follows the River Road to the sugar plantations, with the Whitney telling the story of enslaved people, then on to Baton Rouge or west into Cajun country. Space and big-city museums on one side, plantation history and Cajun towns on the other.

Galveston is set up as a family beach resort, and it shows. Moody Gardens' pyramids give an aquarium, rainforest and science centre for hot or rainy days, and there is a waterpark, a funfair pier on the Seawall and shallow, lifeguarded water at Stewart Beach.

New Orleans has more for children than its reputation suggests, with Audubon Zoo, the riverfront aquarium, the City Park carousel and children's museum, and streetcar and paddle-steamer rides. Yet parents have to plan around Bourbon Street and some areas at night, which a Galveston beach week rarely asks of them.

New Orleans is much easier without a car. The French Quarter, the Marigny and the Warehouse District sit in a compact, walkable band along the river, and the green St. Charles streetcars run out through the Garden District; ride-hailing fills the gaps.

Galveston is long and thin, with its sights strung out over many kilometres. The Strand is walkable and a trolley and buses reach parts of the Seawall, but Moody Gardens, the West End and the state park mean driving, and there is no rail link from Houston's airports.

Both trade in antiques and character rather than luxury, but New Orleans offers far more to browse. Royal Street's long-established dealers sell chandeliers and estate jewellery, Magazine Street runs for miles of boutiques and vintage shops, and Carnival masks and costumes are a speciality of the city.

Galveston's version is a smaller afternoon among antique shops and galleries in the Strand's Victorian storefronts, plus swimwear and shell souvenirs on the Seawall. For anything beyond that, people drive to Houston.

Neither is a bargain, and the costs land in different places. In Galveston the beaches are free and motels and beach rentals are plentiful, but the car most visitors need adds up, and Seawall hotels charge much more on summer weekends.

In New Orleans rooms in and near the French Quarter are the big expense and climb at Mardi Gras and Jazz Fest, while the streetcar, po'boys and free street music keep days cheap. Galveston is gentler in the cooler months; New Orleans is easier on the wallet in the summer heat.

Galveston has one fine room, the restored Grand 1894 Opera House on Postoffice Street, with touring shows and the community symphony, and cover bands on the beach patios. That is an evening or two, not a reason to visit.

New Orleans, the birthplace of jazz, is a reason in itself. Traditional jazz, brass bands, blues and zydeco play every night on Frenchmen Street and in the neighbourhood bars of Tremé and the Bywater, second lines parade on Sundays, and Jazz Fest fills the spring. Its formal opera and orchestral side is modest, but music lovers will barely notice.

Neither city has a spa or bathing tradition, so treatments in both come down to massages at the larger hotels. The difference lies in where you find calm. In Galveston it comes from the island's slow pace: rides along the flat Seawall, the porch-lined East End and quiet evenings away from the summer weekend crowds.

In New Orleans it means a courtyard guesthouse in the morning, the slow streetcar under St. Charles Avenue's oaks and afternoons in City Park, with the noise of the French Quarter at night working against it.