4 posts tagged “new orleans”

I was stuck in a meeting on Friday afternoon, completely unable to think of anything except getting out and hitting 55 South to New Orleans. I didn't get out until thirty minutes after I'd anticipated being finished, and didn't learn a damn thing. But finally, me, my soul-sistah Rabbyt, and her husband, The Captain, were on the road.

We didn't make it 90 miles before Rabbyt was sound asleep in the back seat, after what I know was a rough week for her. The Captain and I shared various concert experiences, and laughed hysterically at the thought of perplexing the members of Nightwish, a band from Finland, by throwing a rather large bra on stage (as this happens at other concerts, such as Skynyrd and ZZ Top shows). We listened to the most recent Nightwish album as well as some Sonata Arctica, who was to be the other band playing at the show. I wasn't familiar with them but I liked what I heard.

We rolled into the City around 8 or 9, all of us pretty much worn out from the previous week. Instead of going out and raising hell, we instead opted to relax in the hotel courtyard. We talked and laughed and paused to listen to the clip-clop of horse hooves on the street as they passed outside the brick walls, drawing carriages full of tourists, the bells on their harnesses jangling. The sound was foreign and enchanting.

The lazy Friday evening was followed by a lazy Saturday morning, as Rabbyt had voted that we all sleep until we woke up. She's my soul-sistah for a reason. I'm an early riser by nature, but I had no problem laying in bed and drifting in and out of snooze-land. Finally I sat up in bed and plugged my earbuds into my ears, listening to tunes and jamming and anticipating the day.

After everyone was awake and we headed out of the hotel it was nearly time for lunch, so we meandered over to Mona's, a Lebanese/Mediterranean place for lunch. Lamb with hummus=YUMMY. After lunch we wandered...as one is apt to do in New Orleans. It's a great feeling...not having anywhere to be for awhile, just rambling about, stopping at whatever place catches your eye. Somewhere on Decatur the smell of hot grease took over my senses, which meant we weren't far from Cafe Du Monde. As much as I looooooooove beignets, I figured they wouldn't go well with the Mediterranean food I'd had not long before. But you see, that's the great thing about not living too far from New Orleans...I know I'll be back soon enough.

It always rains in New Orleans. Always. So after more meandering, we ducked into the Shops at Canal Place (admittedly for the Starbucks right inside the door) and killed time until dinner at the House of Blues. I'd never been to the House of Blues before...and I thoroughly enjoyed it. True, the burger I had for dinner wasn't the best I'd ever had...but something told me that jambalaya before a metal show wouldn't be a very good idea.

Sonata Arctica opened for (or perhaps received equal billing with) Nightwish...and I enjoyed their set. When Nightwish came on stage I went into full-on concert mode...I jumped up and down, screamed, whistled, and even headbanged. I only headbang on very special occasions. And I feel it now. But it's all good...it was worth it...ESPECIALLY when Tuomas Holopainen, the creative force behind the band, came down off the stage and shook hands with audience members. I could've fallen over. I TOUCHED TUOMAS! *le sigh*

I also tried to reach Emppu at some point...and smooshed The Captain in the process. I couldn't seem to control myself...I think the id had taken total control of all function at that moment. I didn't reach him...but I did catch his eye a couple of times. That's always cool. The best part was that all of them were receptive to the crowd...so many performers just come out, do their bit, and haul ass. These cats actually acknowledged and appreciated their fans, and that always makes me love artists even more.

After the show we walked back towards the Chateau in the rain; I had to pause for a few minutes under a canopy for a smoke. And while we babbled (rather loudly, as we had been right in front of the stage as well as the speakers), some random dude grabbed my ass as he passed by. Ah...New Orleans. Anywhere else on earth had some random dude done the same thing, he would've been drawing back a bloody stump. I guess New Orleans increases one's tolerance for such things.

The rest is just the basic whatnot...we came back the next morning listening to George Carlin standup. All in all, it was the best weekend I've had in...well, at least a couple of months. :) Spending time with Rabbyt is always good for the soul (at least *my* soul)...and good music is always good for the soul...and New Orleans is always good for the soul, as well. Throw them all into the same weekend and one comes away with a feeling of contentment and relaxed well-being that is difficult to come by in these troubled times.

I've said it many times, and I won't stop soon: I'm very fortunate that I live so close to New Orleans.

Three years ago when Katrina hit, the whole nation was probably inclined to judge Mississippians as a bunch of idiots because our governor cannot say "water"...instead, he told national news channels that we were "worried about the warder."

I heard that word and its infamous mispronunciation again this moring as Gustav made landfall...and all I could do was laugh. I'm not a fan of politics--much less politicians. And specifically regarding Haley Barbour, on one hand he cost me my job when he yanked the funding from the Partnership for a Healthy Mississippi back in 2006; however, it was a shitty job. Then I was flung into a job that was far less shitty; unfortunately, the people were god awful. After six months of outright mental torture I found my way into my current job, which I actually like--partly because I like what I'm doing and mostly because I work with some really great people.

In short, I'm not really saying anything for or against the Governor; I just find it amusing that he can't pronounce the word "water." And the only reason I find it amusing is because it would take too much energy to become indignant about it.

I've been glued to the levee coverage on CNN, hoping against hope that the Holy City hangs on through this, the first major hurricane since she was ravaged by Katrina. New Orleans, though it's not my home, has become dear to me. I've always counted myself lucky to live so close to her--just a three-hour roadtrip, perfect for a weekend getaway. I always feel renewed when returning, even though I'm worn out from running all over the French Quarter. There are plans in place for a weekend trip down for a concert later this month, and I've soooo been looking forward to it.

New Orleans is an amazing place. The mixture of cultures and history and strangeness and life...it's a place that just needs to exist. I was there this past June for the first time in over five years, and it did my soul a world of good. 

I was just telling someone the other day that we all look back at things we would've done differently if given the chance, and while that doesn't actually do us any good, at least it means we've learned something since then. I can't help but think of how the dastardly response to Katrina...or lack thereof...brought about so much change in the way South Louisiana prepared for Gustav. Nearly two million people evacuated, so much more organization and preparation from various government agencies...even the Republican National Convention put a cork in it while the country watched the Gulf Coast.

A direct quote from Mr. Bush: "Our job is to assist." Even on his way out it's clear that his ass is still stinging from the backlash he received in the aftermath of Katrina.

I count myself fortunate that I was far enough inland to only have to deal with power outages and yard cleaning. As my now ex-husband and I watched our neighborhood from our living room window that day, we were taken aback as we saw a neighbor's ten by ten pre-fabricated metal storage shed was lifted over the six-foot privacy fence of their back yard and began to roll end over end down our street. He told me I'd be in the way and to stay behind as he and other neighbors ran out into the squall, trying to prevent the shed from being blown through the front of another neighbor's house. I watched them struggle for a moment, then ran out to help. It seems like it took four men and two women to hold the shed back. Fortunately, another neighbor had been watching and in no time had driven his truck down the street, jumped out with a chain, and proceeded to hook the shed and drag it back into the front yard of its owners. The thing had crumpled like tin foil. We piled concrete blocks on top of it to keep it from flying away again.

Still, that was nothing compared to what those on the Gulf Coast endured. Even though progress is evident in the response to Gustav, it doesn't take away from the sympathy I feel for each and every victim of Katrina, whether in this state or another. I will never forget seeing the coverage afterwards...and not just the destruction, but the loss of human life. There was one man being interviewed by a reporter, describing how he, his wife, and his children had scrambled to the roof of their house to escape the storm surge. He and his children made it, but as he tried to help his wife onto the roof...he couldn't hold on. She told him to take care of the children and slipped from his grasp. He and the reporter were both overtaken with emotion.

Sadly, that wasn't an isolated occurence. Just this weekend I learned that a lady I worked with years ago had parents that suffered the same fate--her father made it onto the roof, but he couldn't hold on to her mother. And still, there are more of the same stories or similar ones, each one equally horrifying and tragic.

I don't say these things to be melodramatic or grim--but instead, because even though it's evident that everyone learned a lot from the devastation of Katrina, the people that endured her hell deserve to be remembered.

Whether they lived to tell about it or not.

I'd tried to figure out what to say about New Orleans other than the "we went here, we did this" synopsis that ended up happening. For whatever reason, I clammed...or I guess more appropriately, oystered...up on how to put into words what New Orleans is like--at least to me. Because there's so much it can be...

I was reading my soul-sister Myng Rabbyt's blog and she was talking about New Orleans...and somehow everything I was trying to figure out how to describe came tumbling forth. I think it was because I know she knows what I'm talking about...and what New Orleans is about, as well.

So, New Orleans as described by me...

New Orleans is old, familiar, comfortable, chaotic and relaxed in one big luminescent ball that surrounds you. It's like the rest of the world doesn't exist outside that space, because the rest of the world has already been there.

We actually took the wrong streetcar when we struck out for the Quarter...we headed uptown. But it was great...seeing everything and passing Loyola and Tulane...then when we hopped off where the steetcar turns right, I looked over my shoulder and saw the stern of some vessel just drifing by.

In my mind, New Orleans isn't just any port city. It's the port city.

I spent a couple days...well, more like a day and a half...in New Orleans last week. It's been over five years and was therefore long overdue. And it did my soul all kinds of good.

It only takes about three hours to get there...so I have no excuse for not visiting more often. It seems that the place I live is startlingly devoid of culture...but the fact that New Orleans is so close and so full of everything does a lot to make up for it.

We got to our hotel on St. Charles and drove uptown to Tipitina's to see Henry Rollins. It was weird being in Tip's with chairs...and the place was jam packed. But the show was great...it was a trip to see Henry Rollins with all his wound-up angry energy in a place as laid back as New Orleans. The show was also being filmed for an IFC Special scheduled to be out this fall.

Thursday morning we took a streetcar down to the French Quarter, where we headed for Cafe Du Monde for beignets and, as it was way too hot for coffee, bottled water. It was something of a trek; we started on the opposite side of the Quarter...in fact, on the "other" end of Bourbon Street. Fortunately, there aren't a lot of drunk people bewitched by boobies and all the other things that can be found in that area to contend with, so it wasn't much of a big thing.

After breakfast, and with powdered sugar dotting my navy shirt, we struck out again and began the traditional roaming around process. We went to several shops and hid out under a canopy in front of one of them when the token summer thunderstorm passed through. I wasn't particularly concerned, as last time I was in New Orleans the sky turned green and sirens went off while I was crossing Decatur. Besides that, the thunderstorm was most helpful in bringing down the temperature from "I'm turning into a puddle" to "it's a wee bit sticky." Oh, and it washed the powdered sugar off of my shirt.

Eventually we got around to lunch at the Crescent City Brewhouse, went over to the Aquarium, then to the newly opened Insectarium, to Riverwalk Marketplace (if you've seen one mall, you've seen 'em all) and then we finally headed out of the city around 7 that evening. We made one last stop in Manchac for dinner at Middendorf's, which in my experience has the best damn fried catfish in the history of the world.

I'm already planning to go back in September...hopefully then I can spend more than a day roaming the Quarter. I need at least three or four. :)