an unordered list of reflections of life in New Orleans:
they don’t have laundromats in New Orleans, they have washaterias
Uptown is latitudinally south of the downtown
if you ask for water at a restaurant, expect to drink 750mL; glasses here are huge!
Dr. Bob has a visual stake in absolutely every single commercial establishment
while sitting in the bathtub, it’s entirely possible you’ll be bitten by a mosquito. in January.
some restaurants “don’t do change” – they round up
if you don’t say hello to a stranger, you’re rude
ZAPP’S!
directions? don’t expect a cross street
swagger is synonymous with walk
depending on where you’re going, you might have to sit tight for a while. In order to let the railroad train pass. “The tracks” here routinely control the flow of traffic (pedestrian, bike, car) and they don’t move fast.
Overheard in New Orleans (OHNO): “Cold is not the word!” – when it’s 55F with a slight breeze.
If you get to New Orleans and have access to a vehicle I recommend a daytrip to this place. Around 40 minutes outside the city, my krewe and me went in January and it was 65F outside with good sun (on that note, I’d imagine this place in the summer to be absolutely festering, and would have an overpoweringly amazing smell!). We took the trail that I believe was just north of the visitor center; it was where the forest ranger at the center told us we’d be most likely to see some gators in the wild (he wasn’t lying!).
As we went in January, there wasn’t much in the way of flowers or leaves (from deciduous trees). However there were some incredible examples of swamplife plants:
And abound with little lizzies:
Which at first we thought would be a rarity, however there were brown and green ambystomas in abundance as we proceeded along the boardwalk. On that note, there was a boardwalk! I actually managed to not take a photo at all of the trail, which runs around a mile+ into the preserve, and is properly paved. Which I don’t believe is a bad thing, because as we proceeded became clear it sort of kept alligators from proceeding too far to your flank. But you had to keep a watchful eye. The first gators we saw were around 30 feet from the trail, and about 4′ in length; the second gator, around 25 feet from the trail, and 5′ in length; then a baby gator accompanying his mother, also 5′ in length; then gators closer to the shore; then on the shore, about 3′ from the trail, 6′ in length and growling as we approached! Okay, time to turn around!
baby gator! they’re so cute!
still plenty swamp-green in January.
We saw plenty of wildlife; some saw swamp rabbits, turtles, fishes, gators, but what I was really hoping we’d see, a great blue heron! It flew into our field of vision and landed on that pool of moss standing in the water. Wonderful! They’re so blue! As we crossed the bridge over the water it flew away, staying just 2′ above the waterline.
Leaving the preserve we toured the local area:
A fair number of houses and shops in the area are built on stilts. Personally I’ve never understood the point of wanting to live in a floodzone. The point at which you’re wiping your brow saying, “Whoo, good thing we built our house on stilts!” is exactly the point at which you shouldn’t be living where there’s a flood!
The greater St. Louis area where I grew up was heavily hit by the floods of 1993, and I remember six years later driving around parts of the outer county and seeing houses still being rebuilt on stilts, with rubble and remains nearby of the previous domicile, and wondering why would one want to risk losing it all again? Water is such a powerful natural force. Then again, if that’s your home I understand wanting to stay with where you live and what’s yours. And I’d totally consider living in New Orleans even though it’s clearly a floodzone (of course I’d hire the Dutch government to build a levee around my home!). But I digress.
We finished off the day at piggly wiggly, picking up some produce to grill back in New Orleans.
the banana-potato-beer-tire aisle inside piggly wiggly.
All of New Orleans and the surrounding area is full of these hybrid shops and stores that seem to sell a little bit of whatever the management is good at or thinks the surrounding area needs a supply of. Think of a shop that sells incense, but is primarily a brick museum, and is also where you can get passport photos taken. Or a hat store that also sells pet supplies and has free wi-fi. New Orleans is strange and beautiful like that.
Earlier this week I attended a funeral procession for Wendy Byrne, a longtime New Orleans resident and French Quarter bartender (I believe she lived in the Quarter also) who was tragically shot on 17 January by three teenage thugs (who have since been turned in by their mothers and turned over to criminal court to be tried as adults).
I didn’t know nor never met Wendy, but the day before her funeral procession I was drinking with mates at the Rawhide and judging by the passion of the bartender she clearly had an important and outstanding presence in the community. Tragic, but an opportunity to experience a second line which is really integral to the cultural foundation that makes up New Orleans life (and by extension, death).
(Read some official news about Wendy Byrne here and here)
Gathering outside of a pub on North Rampart on the boundary of the French Quarter, people spilling into the streets with drinks in hand to assist with the mourning. Eventually the carriage did a loop, proceeded down North Rampart before turning into the Quarter proper, stopping traffic for blocks on end.
As the carriage proceeds, those immediately behind the carriage are known as the first line, and include family and friends, those closest to the deceased. The jazz band follows behind them and marches while playing, the band typically consisting of various drums, tambourines, trombones, tuba, saxophones, etc.
The second line consist of those that follow behind the band which include those showing solidarity and quite often those who join in attracted to the music like a moth to a flame. Actually, people came up to me after the march had stopped and the band played its last number and asked me what was the purpose of the parade that they just participated in, proving the effect of music on the spirit so typical to New Orleans. It’s pretty powerful stuff.
And incredible to consider a city where a homicide could pull this many people together, many of them strangers to each other, and stop traffic for blocks and blocks on end, effectively shutting down an area of the city, yes to mourn but also to celebrate the passing of one of its residents. Death is inevitable, and while the situation is very tragic and sad, it’s also beautiful that Wendy’s spirit was able to organize this activity and fill the air with such joy.
The spot where Wendy lost her life. Cheers to Wendy!
Straight chilling in the streets. This photo doesn’t tell the whole story, but there was actually a fair amount of shade on this street, and it was a bit chilly – in New Orleans, that means 55F – out, so the goat found a large swath of sunlight, with the street’s asphalt no doubt being the warmest spot available. Got off the bike, played with him for a couple minutes. I’m told it’s standard to encounter various uncommon domesticated mammals here.
spotted in Studio at Colton in New Orleans. makes one wonder about the word ‘Be’ and how it became removed. Was it an accident, the wear and tear of time; or the intent of some urban youth (Studio at Colton was a public school prior to Hurricane Katrina, during which damage was inflicted to the building making it unsuitable for learning and teaching) to subliminally deliver a message about the exploitation of working class youth to bolster territorial armies. If you’re familiar with New Orleans you know about the at times overwhelming military presence here, so the bumper sticker has a tinge of irony to it really.
