I miss New Orleans.
I miss driving down Nashville to Magazine and turning left and then zipping a right hand turn to the parking lot of the Whole Foods dodging potholes along the way. I miss the plane trees that I passed in front of the house on Nashville somewhere between St. Charles and Magazine. They were the only ones that would get really "fall-y". The leaves would die and waft down to the ground, crackling and rustling as I drove by.
Every time I passed the leafless tree limbs that reminded me that fall was in progress in other parts of the world, the sound that came into my head was Miles Davis's Kind of Blue. To me that is the sound of New Orleans in the fall...not red, not yellow, just kind of blue.
My doorbell just rang and I was scrambling for the key, I hear "Wassup, belly!" It's my neighbor. "What you having? boy or girl?" We think the apt next door is Sect 8 housing. If so, then our neighbor has got to be a major Sect 8 success story. He is one of the most hardworking, industrious, honest guys you'll ever meet. He's got a wife and a few little kids. He's built up his own car detailing business that both he and his wife work at, servicing the rich, white Uptown market. Sometimes he gets stuff from his clients, like fish or boutique clothing. And he's always ready to share with us. "Hey, neighbuh, come see what we got!" Unfortunately today's fare was mostly little girl stuff, but I found a few pairs of baby socks. Sometimes Chris helps him out when he's having computer trouble. I can never get away with washing my car without his coming over with all his stuff to help me out. We're neighbors. We look out for eachother. I'm going to miss this place.
Yesterday I was driving down N. Broad and I passed a dry cleaning place. The sign in front said:
PANTS PRESSED
IN THE REAR
WHILE YOU WAIT
I know, I know. Ohio, etc. really has something to complain about with a freak snowstorm when it's almost May.
But we here in s. Louisiana are having a moment. You see, a cold and rainy front is here today. It's actually down to 70 degrees. Brrr. People are walking around bundled in scarves and sweaters. Please, feel sorry for us! It's such a miserable, cold day! At least it's not too cold to lose the flip-flops.
Quick! One week left!! Get your "Lent Special" from the local Wing Zone!
It's a busy week at our house.
We have some friends visiting and staying with us for a few days. They'll be moving to New Orleans this summer and are using their Spring Break to come here and go apartment hunting. In celebration of their upcoming move, we had a "crawfish boil" at our house last night.
Now crawfish isn't really a thing I understood before moving to Louisiana. In fact, I still don't really understand it. I do know that it's crawfish season now and will be for the next couple of months. And I know that unless I'm a die-hard Louisiana native (which I'm not), I should buy the crawfish already boiled, because I don't possess a giant vat in my backyard in which to boil them (also useful for frying turkey at Thanksgiving). Anything that requires large yard cooking equipment (except for a basic grill) I'm just not going to tackle.
Last night actually was the first time I myself have attempted to host crawfish in my own home. I've been to a couple of crawfish boils, but it's just a daunting experience for this non-Louisianian. I made some inquiries from natives about where a good place to acquire the little guys would be, and I must say I'm quite pleased with their recommendation, Schaefer and Rusich Seafood off of Lake Ave in Metairie. The crawfish were so tasty, and the seasoning was perfect. I called them up to place my order. Not knowing really anything about serving crawfish, I asked how many pounds they would suggest for feeding four people. They suggested 15-20 pounds, and since we're all novices, I opted for 15. Ezra, our friend, volunteered to go pick them up, and came home with a big bag of 15 pounds of boiled crawfish. Adventure time!
Eating crawfish is messy business. We coated the table with paper bags, and I served only finger food (veggies, corn on the cob, garlic bread) so that we wouldn't have to deal with utensils. And for several hours we ripped heads and dismantled tails with our one Cajun music CD playing in the background for added ambience. All the meat is in the tail, and if any of us really knew what we were doing, the motion of ripping head off and obtaining the meat from the tail would be nothing, but we are all inexperienced and spent the evening carefully picking apart the tail trying to get at the meat in some semblance of chunks. It's a great time. A lot of fun! I'll have to admit, that when I first envisioned our "crawfish boil" I pictured it out on our porch on a warm spring evening. However it's been quite cold, rainy, and dreary, so we ended up having a cozy picnic indoors.
Our life has been full of adventure lately.
First of all, Chris installed OSX on my Mac and is setting up our home network to be wireless, which is all fun and exciting for him, since he loves tinkering with all this computer stuff. (The funniest thing about having a wireless access point, though, is that we still use a dial-up modem...until alternatives get drastically cheaper we will be for a long time.) I just like a machine that works. I'm a user. I do like OSX, though. The advantage for me is that it's unix based, and thus I'm much more compatible with his Linux machine, and there's a lot of open-source software that is now available to me. My favorite is the Gimp...the best open-source image-editing software. There is nothing I can do in Adobe Photoshop that I can't do in the Gimp. And the Gimp is free.
Second. I had a baby shower with the church ladies yesterday. It was a very nice time. I'll write more later when Erica sends me all the pics she took; she took some good ones, and I didn't get a chance to take any.
Third. We got free tickets to the House of Blues tonight. We'd never heard of the band, but thought, 'hey, who cares, it's a concert at the house of blues!". Well, after evening service we were all excited, drove down to the Quarter, found parking, and made our way over enjoying the warm spring evening breeze.
Getting in line we noticed something. Here we are dressed in church clothes...hip, but still church clothes...and everybody else in line is punk kids. Then security started coming through checking IDs. When the guy got to me, he noticed that I was pregnant, and escorted to the front of the line and got us connected with another security person with the explanation "expectant mother." Though it was fun to be given such treatment, it did cross our minds to wonder why it was necessary to receive such treatment. As we're standing outside the door, we realize that the restaurant is separate, and peering through a door painted with red flames and plastered with "no moshing" warnings we saw the music venue. Then, of course, it didn't occur to me that there would be two hours of cover bands before the real one started. As the reality of the situation added up--punk kid audience, careful treatment, the possibility of difficult access to a bathroom, and hours and hours of loud music we were unsure of--a cozy place on a bar stool started sounding like a better alternative.
So as not to make the evening a total waste, we ordered drinks (Perrier is my new pregnancy fave) and chips, walked around the Quarter catching tunes coming out of bars, and came home at a respectable hour. We now know that the House of Blues, New Orleans institution that it is, is not the jazz club joint we thought it was and to check out bands before we go see them. I just looked up the band we are missing--they are not jazz funk as we had hoped, rather heavy metal. We also know that we are hopelessly nerdy.
(Pics: top--having fun with the Gimp on the pic of Chris I took while waiting outside House of Blues; bottom--the Quarter at night from the parking garage.)
Though parades have been happening daily for over a week, we've been too tired and busy to really go. So we held off until today, the Big Day, with super parades and super floats. And it was SUPER FUN!!!! Jack and Erica came down from Baton Rouge, and we went to the big parade that tops it all off, Rex. (We couldn't get up early enough for Zulu.)
When they arrived, we started off the morning with yummy refreshments of coffee and King Cake (decorated with the Mardi Gras colors of purple, green, and gold).
The parade started down at the end of the street. So we packed our little backpack/chair that we got free from the bank from opening an account, loaded our cameras with film, and set off, arriving just as the parade was starting.
Mardi Gras parades are interactive. The crowd jumps up and down and yells, and the people on the floats throw beads, cups, toys, etc. The throws always bear the particular Krewe's mark. So a lot of the stuff had Krewe Rex all over it and little crowns in the strands of beads we caught.
The floats at this parade are very elaborate and beautiful. Everybody in the parade (except for the highschool and military bands) wears masks à la the original Carnaval parades in Venice.
The first location we picked was not so good. People weren't throwing us stuff, and bands weren't playing, just in their "march" cycle, so we walked a bit further down the parade route. At one point, when we were at the intersection of Napolean and Freret, we turned around a saw a random group of people in costume marching down the street (second liners?). The kids were wearing these spectacular costumes and jiving to the drum beat of someone in their group. They made their way down the street, crossed a small gap in the big parade, and continued their little dance down the street.
Here's me and my loot thus far.
Chris mostly sat back and enjoyed the parade. At one point, he lifted me up on his shoulders to see if I could get some cool stuff. I did get some cool pictures at my great vantage point, though, I should've been more elaborately dressed in a costume or funny hat if I really wanted to get some good throws. (By the way, just in case you're wondering. According to nola.com, showing skin to get beads is passe and dressing up crazy is so in. )
Every float was really spectacular.
After Rex, the Elks and local businesses have a truck parade. Less elaborate floats (though still pretty decent), lots of fun throws, and a more local feel. It's great fun for kids, so we hiked over to the end of the Hamilton's street where they stood getting a stroller load of stuff. People threw lots of toys and beads to them, because they're so cute.
Here's me helping a somewhat overstimulated 2 yr old Blair wave her arms for some beads (though she's obviously not doing too bad).
Erica and her loot.
Abby having a good time and waiting for the next float.
Everybody having a good time.
It was great fun, but after over two hours of parading, we were tired. We walked back with the Hamiltons the two blocks to their house and stopped off for drinks and a little rest. Then we continued walking back to our house. (I love the fact that we had a whole morning of Mardi Gras without even having to think about driving anywhere). Erica and I fixed a Fabulous Taco Feast. And the soporific effect of full bellies and parade legs sent us collapsing to the couch. Upon brief recovery we watched "What's Up, Doc?", a comedy involving a musicologist. ;-)
Happy Mardi Gras!!!!!
For some of you getting to church this morning may have been somewhat eventful due to winter storms. We don't really get those. If it's wintry weather it's not really what you could a storm, per se. What we do get this time of year is Parades!
Today on our way to church we saw parade floats lining up, and on our way home had to detour a bit around another parade. Yes, Mardi Gras season has started. For residents of New Orleans it means adding a little time to get places in case you run into an unforeseen parade route. It means eating King Cake, being careful you don't chomp down on the plastic baby Jesus enclosed somewhere in the cake. It also means some evening and weekend entertainment coming up. I'm getting excited. This year I really want to go to some parades!
Living in New Orleans has a lot of perks and a lot of things that aren't so perky.
For instance, after our nice week of winter around Christmas, it is now a pleasant 60's-70's. This is a perk. What is unperk about it is 80-95% humidity all the time, making it feel damp and thick, which makes my head feel damp and thick.
The ultimate perk about living in Louisiana in the beginning of January, though is fresh strawberries!!!!
That's right. The first strawberries of the season are ripe, sweet, and delicious. True, the season doesn't pick up in full force for another couple of months, but somehow the first taste of the season cannot be beat. I'm loving it!
It snowed.
For the first time since the 1980s, it snowed in New Orleans. For the first time in New Orleans history, it snowed on Christmas! (That is, since weather records have been kept in this city.) No kidding. It was sleeting this morning, and this afternoon it got just cold enough for big, white fluffy flakes to fall from the sky and melt on the sidewalk. A thin layer of snow and ornate snowflakes on my black velvet blazer stand as further testimony. Truly amazing. We're all excited to have a nice week of winter.
It's been a fun C'mas. We had presents this morning. I got Scrabble, Pictionary, and tangrams in the games category. Chris picked me up some fun CDs and a picnic basket at a yard sale. Sam gave me a fondue pot. Woohoo! My g'ma got me a couple of CDs including a lullabye CD for Elvis, which upon listening to Chris and I teared up a little. Awww.
We spent the day at the Hamiltons having a British C'mas dinner, complete with flaming plum pudding and crackers with paper crowns. Very pleasant.
Can't wait for next C'mas which we'll get share with Bambino!
This morning we have been driving around some neighborhoods looking for "For Rent" signs. It's been a fun way to see some of the details of the city. From whole houses leaning at 50 degree angle (I kid you not!) to the exciting colors one finds only the South.
I present to you the winner of today's drive: The Bright Pink!
(It was brighter in real life. The picture doesn't do it justice. By the way, it's not for rent.)
Over a month overdue, Fall has arrived, hopefully for good.
I turned off the air conditioner last night. And a cool breeze is blowing in from off the porch. My feet actually feel cold, and I'm actually wearing jeans.
I am not sitting in a pool of sweat and humidity that only Louisiana can conjure.
I am euphoric. (and just that facile that I allow weather to affect my mood that much)
Today I threw on a pair of shorts and Tshirt, grabbed my voters' registration card, and walked out the door and down the street to my local voting joint. I love living in the city where you can walk to go vote. I'm glad I went in the morning; I didn't have to wait in line at all, once I figured out where my precinct was. At first the lady checking for my name couldn't find it on her list. I think she was thrown off by my maiden/middle name. It freaked her out. Thankfully, I was kind of looking over shoulder and pointed out my name after she said, "You're not on here." Yes, I was! The morale of this story: don't get freaked out by Italian names.
I was a little perturbed in the end, because I didn't get a sticker!!! I've been looking forward to my "I Voted!" sticker!! I even had plans of putting a proud picture of it on my blog!!! I looked around the place to see if I could ask someone for one, but it seemed that there were no stickers anywhere. :-P In spite of it all, I did experience a bit of a thrill voting Democrat for the first time: yes, I voted for Kerry.
It's a hot day and dark clouds loom, so I hope that won't hinder voters. In New Orleans, I think people get more hyped up over local elections. On the day of a local election, every piece of ground is literally covered with a heavy fall of candidate placards. Today there is only a light dusting, and those only for local candidates (like criminal sheriff). Maybe things will get more exciting as the day goes on. It's still too early for the little map on CNN.
I feel pretty crappy. Last night I went to bed with a fever and chills. This morning I still feel weird but don't have a fever anymore. I'm supposed to teach and have a test tomorrow, so I'm going to proceed as if everything is norma. But I sure don't feel well.
So if I can walk a couple of blocks while feeling sick, you can get out there, too!
GO VOTE!
I've said before that in the afternoons in the summer we have these weird storms where it rains like crazy, but it's still sunny. I wondered perhaps if the humidity just explodes in these instances.
Yesterday a sudden, loud crack of thunder sounded like that indeed was what had happened. The downpour that ensued was incredible. The drop were so huge that you could almost see each individual one. I highly recommend clicking on these thumbnail pictures so you can see what I mean. The drops were so huge, even my dinky, little camera could pick them out! The top picture is of the sky looking at the back of the house out my kitchen window. The colors were so fierce in real life.
The next picture is looking from our porch in one direction towards the west where the sun was especially gleaming. And this shot is looking at our street from the opposite direction, where our street intersects with Napolean and S. Broad. Despite the downpour, it didn't cool off any. It was such a freaky rain!
It is SO hot!!!
I think it's hotter this year this time than other years. The weather.com sticker says 87 with a heat index of 101 F. So humid. So hot. The thing about heat down here compared to heat up north is that the sun is closer to the earth, because we're closer to the equator. The heat index also doesn't get below 85 F during the night.
It's about this time of the year I remember one of my favorite words: estivate. Its winter equivalent is hibernate.
I've been roller-blading in the park in the mornings, wh. is a lot of fun. The canopy of live-oaks shades the path nicely so its not too hot. Though I am drenched by the time I'm done. I came home and did a few sit-ups on the floor the other day. Now there's a white spot on the wood floor from the moisture of my back. (I know, you really wanted to read that.)
Our one ancient window unit air conditioner is cranking away, wh. at least makes the apt livable, though still quite hot. We really could use another unit. The poor thing can't keep up with three rooms. All I want to do in the afternoon is sleep! I get so drowsy. Yesterday, I decided when I hit the hot part of the day, I was going to watch a movie, then in the evening, I got back to work. Except the apt was still so hot, I up and moved to the coffee shop where it was cooler.
We talk about whether we should try to stay in New Orleans after degrees are obtained. Chris really wants to. I want to, too (though not quite as much as he does), provided I can get an adequate university position (I'm not expecting much). My other stipulation is that we move to some place with central air.
Maybe I'll go watch a movie like Dr. Zhivago or something. Some movie where there's lots of snow...
UPDATE: I was feeling a little bit like a loser for posting about how hot I was, because no matter how many words I use, it just doesn't do the heat I feel justice.
I'm relieved to find that I'm in good company, as approximately at the same time of day KatieK posts about the heat. :-)
A walk in the Quarter. Probably the most famous feature of the New Orleans cityscape is the French Quarter, or referred to simply as "the Quarter". I never go down there. There's really not much to do except to eat and shop at exorbitant prices. Sometimes there are festivals, and in the middle of the night there is a lot of music, but lack of resources also prohibits me from going down there. Every once in a while, though, a friend will come to town, and we'll go for a saunter. Pausing in all the antique shops and art galleries makes for an entertaining afternoon. Yesterday I had to go to the downtown, main branch of my bank to get a cheque in Euro as deposit for my seminar. Since I hate the thought of parking, I rode the streetcar in, a friend came, and we made an afternoon of it.
For tromping through the Quarter, I usually choose Royal Street, known as St. Charles on the other side of Canal. Bourbon Street is just plain gross. It stinks of vomit and cheap beer 24/7. Though I did pass a crepe stand spotting a pyramid of Nutella jars on the corner of one of the initial blocks, something to keep in mind. It gets on my nerves how in the middle of the day tourists go staggering down Bourbon Street clinging to their neon plastic cups drunk beyond comprehension. (Open container laws don't apply if you have a plastic cup.) I don't understand why they feel like they have to be totally wasted while they're in New Orleans when there is so much other stuff that makes this city wonderful.* One of those things being Royal Street, after sauntering down several blocks, the general hum of tourists and pedestrians quieted down some. And I did suckered up my pride and took a picture of the hanging gardens of New Orleans. This view is on the list of really touristy things to take a picture of. (Streetcar being thing #1 of touristy thing to take a picture of.) It really is lovely walking under the stories of lush balconies.
Part of why I like the Quarter is the history. (No kidding!) We come across part of what defines New Orleans, which is its Catholic heritage. This whole state is more Catholic than anywhere I ever have lived. Part of the tradition includes the presence of the Ursuline nuns. They came from France in the early days of the city to take care of the poor and were steadfast in their service even through some very trying times for the early colony. Eventually they formed a school for girls, which still exists. This school accepted all girls who needed help, from all races or mix of races, slave or free. The convent and school provided a haven to so many. Wealthy parents sent their daughters to the Ursuline nuns where they would receive a safe education within the cloistered walls, creating an incredibly diverse student body of young women. The old Ursuline convent and archbishop seat is in the Quarter off of Chartres Street (that would be pronounced "Charter").
Attached to the old convent is a small cathedral (sorry! forget which one!). Where, in case you were looking, you can find the way to heaven. The sign says "here is the house of God and the gate of heaven". Actually, it's kind of interesting that that particular sign was in the same place as the archbishop seat. It is traditionally the bishop of Rome, i.e. the pope, who hold the keys to the gate of heaven, given to him by Peter. So I guess there is some connection. (sorry, I wish I knew more.)
Why does this city have a Catholic heritage? Because of the French, of course! Though French is not as widely spoken here as it is in the bayou, there is definitely a French presence in the city, evidenced by the untranslated request: "Please do not park in front of this gate." As a side note, there is also an uncomparable French bakery on Magazine Street uptown, so if you ever get hankering for a real, true baguette or pain au chocolat, come on down and visit.
The last of our adventures took us to the flea market. Pretty tacky stuff, though some pretty jewelry, and definitely moments of entertainment value. Just in case you were thinking about stealing from this silver ring vendor, I would certainly think twice!
So a pleasant afternoon was spent in the Quarter. Sore feet carried us to the streetcar (NOT the trolley), and we were whisked home, pitying the poor tourists who had to tour the Garden District in the rain.
*It's like the time when we went to Bermuda. The whole cruise ship headed for the beach. The sole purpose of their taking the cruise was to get as much sun as possible. I will grant that the beaches in Bermuda are fantastic, and I had a wonderful time swimming and sailing and "snorkeling", but what a lot of people missed was that Bermuda was one of the first European colonies in the colonial era (very early 17th c). There was a TON of history to be discovered on that island. It was extremely fascinating. Yet, when we went to tour a fort or something, we would be the only ones there. But I will admit that I've found myself to be a little bit more fanatical about such things than the general populace.
My street. I live on Fontainebleau Drive. It's a nice street skirting the edges of Uptown. As we enter the mile-long tree-lined boulevard, we pass under a striking blue arch that says "Fontainebleau Drive"...a veritable royal entry. This end of Fontainebleau (we say FAHNT-in-blow) is quite becoming, each house possessing its own unique architectural style and color. Passing under a canopy of liveoaks by pinks, blues, beiges, reds...large porches, iron work...a Tudor style, a Mexican style, an Italian style, a cottage style. No consistency, just sheer individuality. Eventually, once we get beyond the cross-street Versailles we get to that other kind of New Orleans home, the chopped-up for apartment building. Gone are the cool splendor of single family homes underneath the blue arch, now we have student living. Yep, this is the end of Fontainebleau we live on. It's a nice neighborhood, rather high turnover, but interesting people, and for the most part, as safe as you can expect living in the city.
Also in typical New Orleans fashion, inconsequential details aren't given much attention. Consistency in spelling big words is a bit much to ask for in this laissez-faire city. So what? Fontainebleau. Fountainbleau. They mean the same...
Ugh! I'm taking a break. It's a sweltering day. And I have spent HOURS this afternoon turning our apt upside-down looking for our marriage certificate. It's not with the other official docs, and I need it to document my name change for my passport. What bites, is that this is our second marriage certificate. The first one was lost ages ago, and now we've lost the replacement. It's not like we get it out periodically to gaze in wonderment that we're legally married. This is SO frustrating!!!
But anyway...The title of this entry. In a recent entry, the following comment was made by my friend Rebecca: "New Orleans seems like just a place in my imagination." Indeed, it was pretty much a place in my imagination, too, until I moved here. I had a vague idea where Louisiana was, and an even more vague one where New Orleans was. I knew there was Cajuns and Mardi Gras, and that's about all I new. This city seemed to belong to the category, "long, long ago, and far, far away."
I'm going to begin a series for the summer about living in New Orleans (or NOLA, that is New Orleans, LA), at least living in it as I do, which, I promise you is more on the boring side of things compared to the general populace. So the pictures I show will be how I've discovered this city through my eyes. This place has definitely become my home these past 3 years, but there are still times when I feel like Alice and wonder in what strange, exotic place I've landed.
Hopefully you'll enjoy my little tour through the city. I'm sure it will be more interesting than my ranting about lost official items. And it'll give me something to write about.
Okay, the picture for today is of the palm tree in the neutral ground*. Palm tree, yes, we're that far south. (We're in horticultural zone 9, the hottest spot in Louisiana.) The palm tree is one of the main features of the view from our porch and houses a vocal parrot community. Yes, parrots. A whole flock of brilliant green parrots lives in the tree. They especially like palm trees, I think, because there are natural compartments, sort of like an apartment building, and they like that. Any birds you see sitting on the telephone wire in the picture, tiny as they are, are parrots. It's hard to get a good pic of them. Almost the whole year round, the squawking and shrieking of the parrots accompanies the rumbling of buses, the thumping of Gmobiles, and the wailing of the fire engines. Ah! The sounds of the city. Living in New Orleans, parrots just blend right in.
You may notice in the picture the beautiful clouds. We've just had a daily afternoon thunderstorm that southern climes get. Today it was the particularly weird kind that we get in NOLA; while it was raining heavily, it was still as bright, sunny, and blue-sky-y as in the picture. Maybe the humidity just exploded. Who knows?
NOLA vocab:
*neutral ground--the median. Back in the day, the median of the broad avenues really was the "neutral ground."
