A week ago I went to New Orleans for the first time. My friend Justin and I decided to meet up as we do on a roughly annual basis in order to catch up on things. We’ve been friends since high school and tend to think alike and thus make for good travel companions. The first night in New Orleans we found a place to stay, a cheap, but nice hotel (Place d’Armes) in the French Quarter. It was right in the middle of everything there is to do in the French Quarter, and seemed like a good starting point. Let me say now, our aim was to get a feel of New Orleans and see how things have progressed since Hurricane Katrina almost two years ago. I even brought my video camera, anticipating I would shoot some video and conduct an interview or two. I found out later how naïve that was.
The French Quarter is known as the tourist trap of New Orleans. Walking along the gas lamp lit streets one can see why. Some parts are very reminiscent of my strolls through the cobble stoned streets of Kiev or Zurich. In the day time, one can meander through shops with private art collections, ancient maps, or rare books. One can have their palms or tarots read by a street psychic or have a balloon tied by a clown. The French Quarter certainly regained the warm atmosphere I imagine it always had.
In the evening, the smells of boiled crawfish, fried shrimp, and simmering gumbo seep throughout the narrow streets and alleys. One can not leave the French Quarter without gaining a few extra pounds. The amicable nature of drinking is such that alcohol can be carried around the streets or into other bars or restaurants. In fact, drinking is encouraged more than not in the French Quarter. On every corner there are hustlers attempting to coerce you into their pub, restaurant, or “gentlemen’s club”. Their efforts are sometimes countered by the few religious zealots that remind the young and old of the waywardness of their actions. I realized it is not without coincidence that along one of the French Quarter streets, one can see in the distance the shadow of Jesus Christ reflected off of the “Old Cathedral” off Jackson Square. It’s a rather ominous image at night, making one second-guess the intentions of the statue.
The first evening ended rather late and we didn’t make it out onto the streets again till 11 am or so. We started off towards Jackson Square, an open area where artisans, peddlers, and gypsies congregate. We were looking for some good coffee and heard Café Dumond was the place to get it. While it is well-known for its long history of coffee and doughnuts, I was not pleased with the atmosphere. It was like an outdoor cafeteria and it took a very long time to be served. When served, our waitress was not very nice, so we decided to find somewhere else. Besides, sitting down for coffee was going to slow us down, not speed us up. Today we planned on seeing the other side of New Orleans, so with a simple map and a few street names we headed off.
We drove throughout New Orleans, particularly Lower Ninth Ward and were quite shocked with the damage still present. Just driving on the freeway, one notices the numerous homes without a roof, covered with blue tarps. Driving down the countless streets of Lower Ninth, it reminded me of the drives I been on in Africa – more pothole than asphalt, mounds of garbage in yards or on the street, dilapidated homes, and just a resounding lack of development. But while the homes were wrecked, the human condition was not. We found many people working on their homes, or helping others out. We saw Habitat for Humanity working on more than one residence. We also saw others resting on their porch, collecting a few moments of shade before they reconvene their business. It was difficult to continue driving around like this. Part of me wanted to stop, get out, and pick up a hammer. Another part, wanted to just go away from it all, back to the convenient and manicured life in the French Quarter. But I certainly could not abuse them by documenting their struggle. It would be pure exploitation of their situation, and in my opinion, wrong to do. Speaking with some victims of the disaster, we heard many tourists find the Lower Ninth Ward a part of their travel itinerary. Like colonialists in the Serengeti that point and gawk at the wild creatures from the safety of their jeep…it is a sad reality that faces New Orleans residents struggling to rebuild.
With that dilemma broiling over in our heads, we went to a local seafood market in the Lower Ninth and discussed the social and political implications of Hurricane Katrina. After a hearty lunch of boiled crab and fried shrimp we drove around a bit more finally making our way to an interesting coffee shop outside of downtown New Orleans. Fuel Coffee shop is a one franchise business that is run on the lower level of a duplex house. It has a nice homely feel to it. We sat on the front porch for about 2 hours or so, just watching the passer-bys, chatting with a few locals, and conversing a bit on the politics of war and the philosophy of the human condition. We began to notice something unique with New Orleans. The culture is more social the further away from corporate control you get. Inside the city, everyone is driven with purpose to either produce or consume something (i.e. work or have fun). Outside, within the residential areas, time goes slower and purpose is less apparent. Instead of consuming television or whatever people do inside their homes, people tend to reside on the porch and talk more often. People talk with their neighbors, their family, their friends, passer-bys, you name it – and thus a community actually exists. It was something I found myself extremely envious of.
We spent another night doing a lot of the same stuff in the French Quarter we did the night prior. This time though we went to a few more bars. I had a huge bowl of boiled spiced crawfish that barely even pinched my hunger, and then later a huge plate of fried shrimp, clams, and oysters that I couldn’t come close to finishing. We went to a country bar where we played a few games of billiards and watched a few guys try to impress their girlfriends on the electric bull. It was actually the girls that wound up out riding and impressing the guys though.
The next morning we were out by 11am, check out time, after only a few hours sleep. My suggestion for party people is to do as we did – get an internal room with no windows, that way sunlight won’t enter and you won’t know the difference between night and day. We got a few souvenirs – an alligator head, canned alligator meat, and a few other nonessential things and headed off to the airport. New Orleans has indeed regained its fire, though it will be a different place than what it was. It continues to develop as many are still awaiting loans to rebuild their homes. Whether you go to help rebuild a home, or spend your money in the Quarter, it will be a benefit to the community and you will enjoy it.