Even though it was a business related trip (or at least that is what the US Customs lady politely suggested it was) I think we had ample opportunity to at least “dip our toes” into the city centre of this gulf coast destination. We tromped the streets, savoured the flavours and found conversation wherever we came to rest. Thought I’d share some of what we learned here.
In many ways it’s a true hybrid of cultures that has had time to blend and mature. It seems the multiple lines have blurred into one. From Spanish influence (that really came to rest as I noted the ceramic street names at intersections), to the Cajun/French language and Creole food offerings (found on almost every menu), to the African and Carribean descendants (the rhythm and fabric of city life… Even VooDoo shops)… New Orleans is a “Gumbo” of identities.
The cliches are many, as most have heard of the “spring break” nature of the city, the Gator Tours and it’s affiliation with all things jazz. Indeed… we found most of the Bourbon St. stereotypes to be quite on target. It is a liquor ridden jet that fuels an alley of bars, restaurants, loud cover bands and all connected hi jinx! It’s youthful demeanour has roots in days of old for us… But the hangover quickly settles in and the bright lights and lustre show my many wrinkles! We visited, we viewed, we departed.
For certain, New Orleans is a large American city and has its share of open sores. Poverty, street life, crime… We walked extensively and did retrace several times because we lost comfort (if it doesn’t feel right, we trust our instincts). In brief… Stories about issues hidden from everyday life sometimes come to full view in the strangest of circumstance. As it goes, our TV went kaput at the Sheraton. A maintenance operator was sent… Fine gentleman. He told us the “TV was bad” and replacement required… He’d be back in 5 minutes. Upon his return, we struck up a conversation while he went about swapping TVs. We talked Katrina, politics, New Orleans… His takes were honest and informative. Infrastructure falling apart, that Katrina hit the city’s poorest, and that if he had time he would have loved to have shared a glass of wine with us.
So, we used the Internet to help us pry off the mask and taste the “authentic wine” of the city. We found the best music of this trip at the Spotted Cat on Frenchman St., a true example of how jazz is still evolving as a musical form. We crammed into tiny Preservation Hall as fans of all age and nationality gathered to honour jazz roots in a traditional setting. We looked for spots that seemed to have the “locals” queuing for lunch and often ordered the “waitress’s” favorite. We enjoyed the balconies, palm trees and Christmas lights that are part of the holiday season here. With some work, I think we succeeded in getting to know this space a little better.