I excitedly threw the boxes into my new room at the end of a long shotgun, inflated my air-mattress/ emergency evacuation raft, and immediately made my way toward the French Quarter. I could not wait to begin exploring my new city; and there is no better place to start than New Orleans’ cultural hub. The French Quarter, also known as the Vieux Carré, is famous for its cast iron balconies, colorful French, Spanish, and Creole cottages, Jackson Square, and Bourbon Street. Although the entire city is open for its visitors, tourists are mostly concentrated the Quarter. I headed toward the French Quarter with my camera around my neck, laminated map and to-do list in hand, and my purse clutched tightly under my arm. I know I looked ridiculous; but little do they know, I am a local.
Embarking on my aimless journey, I began on Canal Street’s large boulevard facing Bourbon Street. I made my way through the crowds of people, cautiously avoiding the rutted sidewalk. I stopped in the middle of Bourbon Street, slowly turning in a circle. The bright lights, the faint sound of jazz, foul smell of urine, sight of overexposed women, and the taste of a strong drink began to blur together, making my senses suffer from information overload. I wearily weaved through more crowds while attempting to drink in all that is Bourbon Street - tacky gift shops, walk-up bars, scattered beads, hustling bouncers, stumbling patrons, exotic dance clubs, and music pouring into the street. I felt myself lose balance, unsure whether it was the drink or a pothole.
I made my way from Bourbon to Royal Street, walking passed a grimy emaciated woman that played a homemade amalgamation of instruments, a washboard, tin can, cymbal, and cowbell combination. Her rough hippy appearance and apparent love for her street music drew me in to watch, but the beautiful music was only in her head. Next to her bare feet was a half empty gallon of water and a tall beer can. Glancing further down Royal, I noticed similar looking street performers with their own instrumental concoctions, suggesting a bohemian lifestyle unique to New Orleans, but a stark contrast to the quintessential Uptown lifestyle that I would soon uncover. I snapped a few photos, threw a couple dollars in her hat, and stepped into the adjacent mask shop.
The woman behind the counter glanced up from behind her bifocals. “Hey baby, whatcha lookin’ for today?” she kindly asked. I answered, “Oh, nothing really - just admiring the masks.” She nodded, “Well, where ya come from?” “Indianapolis,” assuming my camera and map gave away my tourist status. I tried on a black feathered and gold sequence mask, adding, “But I just moved here for school. To study architecture.” The woman’s face lit up as she clapped her hands together, making hundreds of thin gold bangles clamor together. She exclaimed, “Oh! How wonderful! This is the perfect place to be. Welcome to New Orleans, babe. You’re one of us now.” I smiled at my first welcome since moving to New Orleans and set the mask back on its hook. I was excited to be a local in a new city, but I was not ready to relinquish my ‘visitor’ label yet.
I left the mask shop and walked to Café Du Monde where I ate one of their famous French doughnuts or beignets and sipped an iced coffee. I watched people pass, wondering where they are from and what brought them to New Orleans. After finishing, I crossed the bustling street with the tourist herd to Jackson Square. Merchants hailed my attention from all directions. “Hey babe, come here and take a seat. I’ll read ya palm for fi’ dolla,” a robust gyspy proposed, revealing two gold teeth. I smiled and shook my head. Then, without warning, an eager man jumped out from behind a white donkey masked with blinders. “C’mon for a ride, girl. Me and my horse Big John been doin’ this for sixteen years. I take you all aroun’ the French Quarter and give you the hist’ry of N’Orleans and show you e’rything you need to see. Only twelve bucks for a pretty lady,” he persuasively offered. However, I did not want to fall for a senseless tourist trap. On the other hand, my feet were tired and I my new city kept calling me to explore the lay of the land and its history. I excitedly hopped on the carriage, deciding it would be a perfect way to become acquainted with the French Quarter.
We trotted along Decatur to St. Louis, passing restaurants, bars, shops, and galleries. Although Darrell had been driving a carriage for sixteen years, he had only mastered recitation guidance, pointing and reading the names of each establishment’s sign as we passed. Realizing my mistake, I leaned forward and asked him to explain the city’s history and the significance of the French Quarter, hoping he had just not gotten to that part of the tour yet. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. And to the right is that Hollywood couple Brad and Angeline’s house,” he responded, pointing to a home that I knew was not Brad and Angelina’s. I chuckled and scooted back in the seat. “Now, this is Johnny’s Po-boy shop. Best po-boys in the city! Man, you need to try them oyster po-boys, hoo wee!” he went on. I could not help but laugh by the end of the ride. Darrell gave me a tour of the French Quarter as he sees it. Instead of the distinct architecture and history that make the French Quarter feel like a living museum, he sees it as another neighborhood with great restaurants, famous residents, and the best block parties on Bourbon.
I walked north on St. Louis and across Rampart to the Saint Louis Cemetery Number 1, a cemetery tour destination that highlights the famed Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau’s tomb. Refusing to pay for another guided tour, I snuck to the end of an existing tour group, imperceptibly following them while listening to the guide describe Marie’s life. Then, imitating the group members before me, I picked up an orange rock, nervously marking three X’s and knocking three times on her tomb. Finally, I lifted the camera from my neck and proudly snapped a picture before leaving. I crossed the cemetery, Bourbon Street, and Café Du Monde off my New Orleans to-do list and made my way back to my home Uptown.
I began another adventure further up the Mississippi river from the French Quarter in the section of the city known as Uptown. Starting in my neighborhood I meandered down the undulating sidewalks along Magazine Street, stopping to peer through windows that were attractively decorated with whimsical displays, luring the shoppers in to sort through their one-of-a-kind treasures. I stepped into an enchanting stationery store just beyond Magazine and Jefferson. The bell above the door graciously jingled when I pushed it open. The wood floor creaked under my feet as I crept around the room, gazing at the bookshelf ladders that accented the high ceiling and the array of beautiful merchandise. I ran my fingers across each sheet of paper, feeling the different textures and embossment. I fell in love with everything the store held, selecting a simple pale blue card set with my initials. As I stepped out with my bag in hand, I looked to my left and right, realizing it would take weeks to rummage through each store on Magazine like I had done in the stationery store. I have seen three boutiques open within the few months I have lived here, constantly offering delightful surprises for Magazine shoppers.
The excitement of the unknown drew me further down the street. I strolled through art galleries as if I had every intention of purchasing a piece. I tried on designer dresses at Azby’s and musty vintage costumes at Miss Claudia’s, stopping only for a drink at a local coffee shop between stores. In the meantime, I made note of the local restaurants and bars that I wanted to return to during my stay in New Orleans in my mental to-do list.
On the other end of Magazine Street, further east, I toured the numbered streets also known as the Garden District. I ambled down the Garden District with the self-guided home tour pamphlet, stopping at each listed address, reading the brochure’s caption, and observing the home’s architecture, landscaping, and current uses. The homes were elaborately decorated with delicate wrought iron, freshly painted, and immaculately landscaped. I immediately thought of the woman on Royal Street, playing her concocted instrument barefooted, wearing tattered clothes and drinking a beer. Her life seemed so distant compared to the perceived lives of the mansion owners in the Garden District. I could only imagine the antique European furniture, custom molding lining the walls, and adjacent guest homes that were once slave quarters.
Then, I began to wonder about the family history of each of the homes. Unlike the French Quarter, the Garden District is the result of American citizens swarming to New Orleans after finalizing the Louisiana Purchase in 1803 (Louisiana Purchase). Due to the city’s geographic location at the Mississippi River Delta, many American settlers acquired their money from shipping, trade, and cotton. Because New Orleanians value family heritage and tradition, many Garden District mansions are believed to be heirlooms passed down for generations. Once again, my camera was around my neck and I had an opened map as if I was a stray tourist lost from my group. I am positive the neighbors were peering through their lace curtains laughing at the silly tourist.
By the end of 2007, New Orleans will have seen almost one and a half million tourists (Romig 2007). However, most of them are concentrated Downtown and in the French Quarter, where most accommodations, restaurants, and attractions are located. I felt a distinct line between Downtown and Uptown, tourist and resident territory. However, my perception of a clear separation changed on Saturday, November 10, the day the St. Charles Streetcar opened. With the reopening of the St. Charles Streetcar line Uptown was once again more accessible for tourists while downtown was more accessible, and more inviting, for Uptown residents, blurring the perceived boundary.
My roommate and I were at the intersection of Marengo Street and St. Charles when we peered to our left. Squinting our eyes and straining our necks, we saw a high school marching band, masses of people, local news vans, and a line of streetcars decorated with thick red ribbon and garland. We immediately shot each other look, grinning, when we realized a historical New Orleans event was taking place at the end of our street. Since Katrina’s massive flooding two years ago, the St. Charles line had been down for extensive repairs on the rail as well as the cars. The Canal streetcar line was launched immediately after the storm in December 2005, making a leap to restore hope and pride to the city (Reed 2007). The opening of the St. Charles line was no different.
After being interviewed by a local television station we hopped on the third streetcar. The St. Charles neighborhood residents came prepared, carrying cocktails and cameras and wearing smiles. Pedestrians threw Mardi Gras beads and waved signs reading, “That’s How I Roll,” and “Streetcar: 1, Katrina: 0.” The Columns Hotel along St. Charles Avenue hung a banner welcoming the line back while neighbors formed house parties, watching the inaugural procession from their porches.
I looked out the gaping window at a streetscape that I have seen dozens of times. However, St. Charles’ businesses, hotels, and restaurants began to make more sense while riding the streetcar. For example, I could not understand why a row of shops and a well-known restaurant were in limbo in the inactivated space between Uptown neighborhoods and Downtown. Yet, the two areas of town are joined with the St. Charles streetcar, activating the otherwise isolated establishments along the vein.
“I feel like a tourist!” an impeccably dressed older woman giggled. Her friend raised a toast, “Here’s to riding the streetcar after two years of not being able to and too many years of not wanting to.” Then, they vowed to ride the streetcar more often as their gentleman friend swore he would ride it to work everyday. They had stepped into my world of tourist wonderment, but I knew they would eventually revert back to more efficient modes of transportation. However, I hoped they were inspired enough to continue viewing at their city through different lenses.
Inevitably, I had acquired a daily routine, too. I could not avoid less adventurous trips to the grocery store, pharmacy, and gas station. My exciting life as a city voyager hit a wall in mid-November with the onset of the holiday and finals. I needed several small items but was pressed for time before picking my family up from the airport. Naturally, I reverted back to my suburban roots, making a stop at Lakeside Mall in Metairie. With New Orleans at my back and Veterans Boulevard ahead of me, I felt the edge where living history and Anywhere U.S.A. met. Contrasting the small local businesses and historic monuments in Orleans Parish, national chains line Veterans Boulevard within a typical mall that acts as a magnetic node, serving the suburbs.
Because many commercial buildings in the United States are built based on efficiency, economy, and proximity, I predicted the mall layout before I even walked through the doors. I hastily maneuvered my way toward a large anchor store. However, I slowed my pace when I saw Café Du Monde in the food court. I knew Café Du Monde was historically significant in the French Quarter, but it did not cross my mind that its significance would translate to suburbia, much less the food court in a modern shopping mall. I appreciated the slight change in an otherwise universal mall.
Between the mundane daily tasks and schoolwork, I pushed myself to keep discovering the city. My limited time in New Orleans hung over my head, reminding me not to take the city for granted. When my family came to visit for Thanksgiving we unintentionally strayed from our structured agenda. Thursday morning we slept in, watched the Thanksgiving parade, and leisurely got ready for the day. Once we were dressed and had reached the lobby, the hotel was no longer serving breakfast. With limited options due to the holiday, the concierge suggested Petunia’s, one of her favorite local dining rooms in the French Quarter.
“No! Don’t open the door. They’re like the Soup Nazi,” the couple from Chicago snapped as we stepped into Petunia’s narrow entrance. “They will seat you when they want to seat you,” his wife chimed in. We awkwardly stood in the tight space, looking doubtfully at each other while our stomachs hoped Petunia’s would accept our patronage. “Oh, but it’s worth it! We’ve already been once this week and it’s our favorite place,” the woman from Chicago unabashedly proclaimed. After a ten-minute wait, we were finally seated in a cozy corner booth beside the burning fireplace. The walls were painted with a bright Caribbean pink and sea-foam green. We knew we had just found a small gem in the French Quarter, and we would have otherwise missed if not for taking a local’s advice. In fact, it was one of our most memorable meals not only because of the delicious New Orleans dishes, but the unexpected journey.
Another well-kept secret is the Bywater, an artsy neighborhood located in the Upper Ninth Ward. The Bywater’s colorful bohemian lifestyle, sagging porches, graffiti-art X-marks, abandoned warehouses, and leaning houses contribute to the neighborhood’s collective nuances, making it unique and full of character. Everyday I make the drive across town to the KNOA studio in the Bywater, but I still find that nothing is too strange for the Bywater and to expect the unexpected. The Bywater contains some of the most unpredictable and unexplainable characters in New Orleans. Hippies, Goths, hipsters, artists, and blue-collared factory workers coexist in the eclectic neighborhood.
Hidden within the Bywater’s leaning walls, behind a ramshackle corner bar facade, Vaughan’s lights up the neighborhood on Thursday nights. After following a native New Orleanian’s suggestion to visit Vaughan’s on Thursday, I was hooked. Kermit Ruffins and the Barbeque Swingers shake up the rickety tavern while bar owners serve barbeque from the back of a pick-up truck, embodying the spirit of New Orleans. The walls are lined with Bywater arts and crafts that reflect neighborhood camaraderie and New Orleans pride. The exterior looks like a deserted building by day, but the crowd overflowing in the street and the clumsy dancing makes the dilapidated building come alive at night. I breathe in all that is New Orleans when I am at Vaughan’s. Maybe the best kept secret from tourists, only the savviest visitors find this Bywater treasure.
During the day, the Bywater is host to several art festivals and farmer’s markets. I found that New Orleans locals experience their city on a weekly basis through festivals and neighborhood markets. No New Orleans event would be complete without music, good food, Abita beer, and local vendors. In fact, New Orleanians need little excuse to throw a festival. In November, I volunteered to help serve drinks at the Bywater’s annual Mirliton Festival, celebrating the local Louisiana squash with traditional dishes and baked goods that featured the mirliton.
At the end of the month, my roommates and I attended the New Orleans Po-Boy Preservation Festival on Oak Street Uptown. The theme of the festival was, “Save our Sandwich”. Well-known restaurants served traditional and innovative sample sized po-boys. Once again, food, music, alcohol, and local art enticed the crowds. Though the two festivals were open to anyone, the small neighborhood festivals rally a local populace. Larger festivals such as Voodoo Festival have a more global pull, bringing in large quantities of visitors. I found that I shed my tourist devices with New Orleanian pride at festivals.
Residents inherently establish daily routines and become desensitized by their surrounding. This summer, the Convention and Visitor’s Bureau of New Orleans launched “Be a Tourist in Your Own Hometown” campaign to encourage New Orleanians and regional residents to visit the city’s cultural attractions. “For decades, visitors have flocked to the city to take part in the timeless and vibrant New Orleans experience and now it’s the city’s residents’ turn to experience the art galleries, museums, shops, boutiques, hotels, restaurants, special events and attractions unlike anywhere else in the country” (New Orleans City Business 2007). The campaign featured coupons to local restaurants, clubs, museums, and hotels, ultimately supporting the recovery of the city of New Orleans and the tourism industry. Essentially, it encouraged residents to vacation in their hometown.
Prior to the local campaign, the New Orleans Convention and Visitors Bureau created an international marketing campaign to encourage more global tourism, ultimately helping the economy and rebuilding process in New Orleans. “We tell the world through our advertising that New Orleans is a city like no other, where culture bubbles up from the street, where when you wake up and look around, you realize you are in a place that is truly unique and authentic, a place where your molecules get rearranged,” said [Stephen] Perry. “We sometimes need to remind ourselves of that, and there is no better way to do that than by being a tourist in your own hometown.” (New Orleans City Business 2007). To increase their marketing team, the Convention and Visitors Bureau is looking within the city for recruiters. Indeed, New Orleanians are the city’s best ambassadors.
Though New Orleans enjoys playing host to over a million tourists each year, opening the gates for the world to experience this irreplaceable city, I often try to discard sightseer tendencies in an attempt to earn respect. I still enjoy Bourbon Street, though I prefer the more low-key local scene on Frenchmen Street. Instead of walking through Bourbon Street with “tourist” plastered across my forehead, I confidently stride down the street filtering images and sensory stimuli that had once overloaded my senses. I carry myself with the pride and confidence of a local, but do not take the city’s charming qualities for granted. I am now an ambassador for New Orleans and will continue recounting stories and describing this enthralling city to those who have visited.
I went to Tipitina’s, a music venue and bar in my neighborhood, two days after I moved to New Orleans. After showing the bouncer my ID and getting a wristband a man handed me a Dirty Coast sticker that said, “Be A New Orleanian. Wherever you are.” Though I was unaware of the message’s significance at the time, I have defined what it means for me to be a New Orleanian today. I have a relationship with the city that was cultivated upon discovery, interaction, and my own curiosity. I began by touring an unfamiliar city, getting acquainted with the cultural atmosphere before slipping into daily monotony. However, I refused to relinquish my freedom and curiosity to the daily grind inevitably occupies our lives. I will miss the New Orleans spirit found the in the people, architecture, food, and music and I will cherish the unexpected excursions generated by the dynamic city. I have achieved a balance between monotony and stimulation that has made my life more interesting in New Orleans. While New Orleans remains one of the most unique cities in the world, the idea of duality can be translated to every hometown, encouraging residents to rediscover the place they thought they knew.
Bibliography:
Louisiana Purchase. 2007. Encyclopedia Britannica. Encyclopedia Britannica Online: http://www.britannica.com/eb/article-9049100 (accessed November 25, 2007)
New Orleans City Business. 2007. New Orleans Metropolitan Convention and Visitors Bureau Urges. May 14, FindArticles.com. http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qn4200/is_20070514/ai_n19114038 (accessed November 25, 2007).
Reed, Molly. 2007. Streetcars We’ve Desired: Beloved New Orleans icon reaches Napoleon. The Times-Picayune, November 11. http://www.nola.com/timespic/stories/index.ssf?/base/library-136/119490241575540.xml&coll=1 (accessed November 25, 2007).
Romig, Mary Beth and Erica Papillion. 2007. New Orleans CVB Issues: State of the City Report, November, 2007. New Orleans Convention and Visitors Bureau. http://www.neworleanscvb.com/articles/index.cfm/action/view/articleID/1598/typeID/1 (accessed November 20, 2007).
29.11.07
31.10.07
exclusive to new orleans
This week I contacted a woman that works for the Convention and Visitors Bureau of New Orleans. Our phone-interview, scheduled for Wednesday the 31st, was postponed due to the her busy schedule. I have many questions, ranging from Katrina tour impact and perception to the local support versus the tourism support on small locally owned businesses. In the meantime, I made an effort to keep exploring the local and touristy sides of New Orleans.
Last Thursday I made a point to take a break from the week by listening to Kermit Ruffins and eating barbeque at Vaughan’s. Vaughan’s is a perfect example of the quintessential New Orleans dive. Every Thursday night Kermit Ruffins and the Barbeque Swingers perform along a narrow wall of the dark smoky room, sans stage, for a packed house. The corner bar vibrates with intoxicating jazz and boozed dancing. The walls are lined with Bywater arts and crafts, reflecting neighborhood camaraderie and New Orleans pride. The exterior looks like a deserted bar by day, but the barbeque pit and music loving bar-goers make the dilapidated building come alive at night. When I go to Vaughan’s, I feel like I am breathing in all that is New Orleans.
At the same time, Bourbon Street is a must-see for any visitor. There are very few streets in the United States that allow open containers, walk-up bars, sex clubs, and blatant public intoxication. Pat O’Brien’s is one of the more famous bars on Bourbon Street. However, I just found out that it is not one-of-a-kind. There are chains in Louisiana, Tennessee, Cancun, Florida, and Texas. So why is this always on tourist’s lists? I went on a Saturday night to see what all of the hype is about. The piano bar was packed with Tulane college students singing to their favorite Billy Joel and Journey covers. Though I had a fun night with my friends, singing songs we knew, I don’t think Pat O’Brien’s is anything special.
I justify this by taking the piano bar out of New Orleans and placing it in Lexington, KY. It would draw the same college crowd, play the exact same songs, and serve the same drinks. Then, I try to take Vaughan’s out of the Bywater and place it in Lexington. First, people would question its outward appearance. The music probably would not appeal to the country-loving crowd, and the personal wall art meaning would not translated to Kentucky. Therefore, Vaughan’s is an experience that is totally exclusive to New Orleans.
I enjoy calling myself a New Orleans local for this short period of time, frequenting my favorite coffee shops, bars and restaurants. As long as I stay away from the magnetic pull of tourist traps and chains, while keeping my daily routine loose, I will have a real New Orleans experience. I can’t help but wonder why people would rather go to Pat O’s, a chain that is relative to every city in America, than go to Vaughan's or Frenchman Street which would create an experience unique to New Orleans. It is no lie that New Orleans depends on the tourist and convention economy, but it seems that we only want the majority of our visitors in a concentrated and monitored location – downtown and the French Quarter. New Orleans, however, longs to be discovered from every angle.
Last Thursday I made a point to take a break from the week by listening to Kermit Ruffins and eating barbeque at Vaughan’s. Vaughan’s is a perfect example of the quintessential New Orleans dive. Every Thursday night Kermit Ruffins and the Barbeque Swingers perform along a narrow wall of the dark smoky room, sans stage, for a packed house. The corner bar vibrates with intoxicating jazz and boozed dancing. The walls are lined with Bywater arts and crafts, reflecting neighborhood camaraderie and New Orleans pride. The exterior looks like a deserted bar by day, but the barbeque pit and music loving bar-goers make the dilapidated building come alive at night. When I go to Vaughan’s, I feel like I am breathing in all that is New Orleans.
At the same time, Bourbon Street is a must-see for any visitor. There are very few streets in the United States that allow open containers, walk-up bars, sex clubs, and blatant public intoxication. Pat O’Brien’s is one of the more famous bars on Bourbon Street. However, I just found out that it is not one-of-a-kind. There are chains in Louisiana, Tennessee, Cancun, Florida, and Texas. So why is this always on tourist’s lists? I went on a Saturday night to see what all of the hype is about. The piano bar was packed with Tulane college students singing to their favorite Billy Joel and Journey covers. Though I had a fun night with my friends, singing songs we knew, I don’t think Pat O’Brien’s is anything special.
I justify this by taking the piano bar out of New Orleans and placing it in Lexington, KY. It would draw the same college crowd, play the exact same songs, and serve the same drinks. Then, I try to take Vaughan’s out of the Bywater and place it in Lexington. First, people would question its outward appearance. The music probably would not appeal to the country-loving crowd, and the personal wall art meaning would not translated to Kentucky. Therefore, Vaughan’s is an experience that is totally exclusive to New Orleans.
I enjoy calling myself a New Orleans local for this short period of time, frequenting my favorite coffee shops, bars and restaurants. As long as I stay away from the magnetic pull of tourist traps and chains, while keeping my daily routine loose, I will have a real New Orleans experience. I can’t help but wonder why people would rather go to Pat O’s, a chain that is relative to every city in America, than go to Vaughan's or Frenchman Street which would create an experience unique to New Orleans. It is no lie that New Orleans depends on the tourist and convention economy, but it seems that we only want the majority of our visitors in a concentrated and monitored location – downtown and the French Quarter. New Orleans, however, longs to be discovered from every angle.
10.10.07
it ain't luck
This weekend my mom visited me in New Orleans. We were especially looking forward to staying in a quiet bed and breakfast down the street from my house. Upon arrival, we curiously investigated the old house. The floors creaked and walls vibrated, responding to each step we took. Then, I took the guestbook, flipping each brittle page to the last entry before August 29, 2005. The entry was dated August 27, 2005 and read, “Thank you for a great week!” This led me to believe the guests were not forced to leave only two days before the storm. The first entry after the storm was March 2006. I was immediately interested in Cindee’s story, the owner of the bed and breakfast. I was curious about her Katrina story. Where did she go? What did she take? How did she return? Was her B & B damaged? What did she lose?
Cindee left New Orleans the day before the storm, taking only a few personal items with her. However, before leaving, she gathered her most treasured and precious belongings from her first floor apartment, leaving them on the top of the second-floor staircase where the bed and breakfast was located. She laughed and said, “I left it all at the front door for the looters.” However, Cindee was fortunate enough to come back two weeks after the storm to check on her home and business. She found her first floor apartment with about two feet of water still standing, furniture scattered and overturned, and mold starting to develop two weeks after the storm. Luckily, the bed and breakfast was immaculate and her personal belongings were untouched. She said that her insurance coverage far surpassed the coverage that many other residents had. Therefore, she quickly and easily collected the insurance money, making it easier to rehabilitate the flooded floor.
Then, I asked what she lost from the storm, if anything. She simply replied, “people.” She was not implying death. Instead, she had lost neighbors and friends to Texas, Alabama, and other cities in Louisiana. She also explained how the bed and breakfast business has suffered since the storm. To Cindee, New Orleans is about the people that she grew to know and love, including her guests.
For Cindee, it took a fraction of the time it has taken for many other New Orleans residents. She knows she is lucky to have minimal damage and insurance coverage. I went driving through the Broadmoor neighborhood one afternoon. The neighborhood is trying desperately to get back on its feet and a symbol of hope for the entire city to being the extensive rebuilding process. I stopped at a home that had several workers bustling around the gutted structure. I briefly spoke with the construction manager. The homeowners came back only months after Katrina, but did not start rebuilding their home until the summer of 2007. He said he doesn’t expect the home to be completed before August 2008. I asked why they had waited so long. The man chuckled, realizing I am a clueless visitor. He explained the neighborhood’s struggle with insurance money and inspector availability. After our short conversation, I said, “Good luck!” referring to the long road of construction ahead of them. He smiled and said, “It ain’t luck, honey.”
His response resonated as I got in my car and continued to drive. Rebuilding requires persistence and determination, not necessarily luck. It takes financial support, planning, will, and neighborhood support. Cindee said that everyone is waiting on their neighbors to rebuild, determining whether or not they rebuild. Broadmoor is an example of taking initiative, influencing neighbors to rebuild their homes.
After talking with these native New Orleanians, I started to wonder how much reconstruction and/ or new construction has taken place since Katrina. I found that pre-Katrina, in 2004, a total of 887 residential building permits were issued in the New Orleans area. 2005 brought 617 total residential building permits. However, in 2006 residential building increased to 823 total residential permits. With information, I looked at Sacramento, California’s issued building permits. Sacramento is comparable to New Orleans in population, but their city’s construction is booming. Sacramento had a total of 4,252 issued residential permits in 2004, 3,092 permits in 2005, and 3,388 in 2006. The number of issued building permits in each city makes the rate of construction in each city extremely evident.
At this point New Orleans construction is far below the national building average. As a whole, Louisiana is far below the national average for issued residential building permits according the U.S. Census Bureau. If not for Katrina, the number of issued building permits would not be such an issue. However, because the destruction was so severe and widespread, the city’s new construction and reconstruction should far surpass that of the national average in an effort to get the city back on track.
Cindee left New Orleans the day before the storm, taking only a few personal items with her. However, before leaving, she gathered her most treasured and precious belongings from her first floor apartment, leaving them on the top of the second-floor staircase where the bed and breakfast was located. She laughed and said, “I left it all at the front door for the looters.” However, Cindee was fortunate enough to come back two weeks after the storm to check on her home and business. She found her first floor apartment with about two feet of water still standing, furniture scattered and overturned, and mold starting to develop two weeks after the storm. Luckily, the bed and breakfast was immaculate and her personal belongings were untouched. She said that her insurance coverage far surpassed the coverage that many other residents had. Therefore, she quickly and easily collected the insurance money, making it easier to rehabilitate the flooded floor.
Then, I asked what she lost from the storm, if anything. She simply replied, “people.” She was not implying death. Instead, she had lost neighbors and friends to Texas, Alabama, and other cities in Louisiana. She also explained how the bed and breakfast business has suffered since the storm. To Cindee, New Orleans is about the people that she grew to know and love, including her guests.
For Cindee, it took a fraction of the time it has taken for many other New Orleans residents. She knows she is lucky to have minimal damage and insurance coverage. I went driving through the Broadmoor neighborhood one afternoon. The neighborhood is trying desperately to get back on its feet and a symbol of hope for the entire city to being the extensive rebuilding process. I stopped at a home that had several workers bustling around the gutted structure. I briefly spoke with the construction manager. The homeowners came back only months after Katrina, but did not start rebuilding their home until the summer of 2007. He said he doesn’t expect the home to be completed before August 2008. I asked why they had waited so long. The man chuckled, realizing I am a clueless visitor. He explained the neighborhood’s struggle with insurance money and inspector availability. After our short conversation, I said, “Good luck!” referring to the long road of construction ahead of them. He smiled and said, “It ain’t luck, honey.”
His response resonated as I got in my car and continued to drive. Rebuilding requires persistence and determination, not necessarily luck. It takes financial support, planning, will, and neighborhood support. Cindee said that everyone is waiting on their neighbors to rebuild, determining whether or not they rebuild. Broadmoor is an example of taking initiative, influencing neighbors to rebuild their homes.
After talking with these native New Orleanians, I started to wonder how much reconstruction and/ or new construction has taken place since Katrina. I found that pre-Katrina, in 2004, a total of 887 residential building permits were issued in the New Orleans area. 2005 brought 617 total residential building permits. However, in 2006 residential building increased to 823 total residential permits. With information, I looked at Sacramento, California’s issued building permits. Sacramento is comparable to New Orleans in population, but their city’s construction is booming. Sacramento had a total of 4,252 issued residential permits in 2004, 3,092 permits in 2005, and 3,388 in 2006. The number of issued building permits in each city makes the rate of construction in each city extremely evident.
At this point New Orleans construction is far below the national building average. As a whole, Louisiana is far below the national average for issued residential building permits according the U.S. Census Bureau. If not for Katrina, the number of issued building permits would not be such an issue. However, because the destruction was so severe and widespread, the city’s new construction and reconstruction should far surpass that of the national average in an effort to get the city back on track.
3.10.07
getting back on track!
streetcar project: one small step for new orleans, one giant step for reconstruction!
the family has been waiting for their home to be rebuilt since 2005, but many of their neighbors have moved back in.
flattened house on elysian fields - taking the first step toward rebuilding!!
nola wasn't built in a day
It took New Yorkers about ten years, 900 million dollars, and millions of man-hours to build New York’s Twin Towers. It only took a dozen terrorists, the cost of airplane tickets, and two hours to annihilate the Twin Towers. Architectural and financial planning began immediately after we grieved the loss of lives, our security, and an architectural symbol. However, six years after September 11, 2001, the World Trade Center has not been physically rebuilt. It is a fact that destruction is swift while construction is slow and endless. Much like the terrorists on New York’s World Trade Center on September 11th, hurricane Katrina quickly and mercilessly attacked Louisiana and Mississippi. Two years later, residents are still discouraged about the slow rehabilitation, and rightfully so. However, we must refer to the irrefutable truth that the reconstruction process cannot happen overnight or even over two years.
Two years ago, hurricane Katrina ripped through the north-central Gulf Coast, destroying everything in her path. In many parts of New Orleans, homes and businesses were obliterated from breached levees during Katrina’s deluge. However, the entire the city and its people were ultimately affected. Since then, Americans have been inundated with images of plight, tragedy, and hopelessness in Louisiana and Mississippi. No one can deny the devastation inflicted on lives and the sheer amount of destruction that has replaced the buildings in New Orleans.
Thousands of buildings were reduced to rubble, including entire neighborhoods, places of worship, businesses, schools, and parks. Today, many of those buildings remain untouched and the rubble still overflows into the street. New Orleanians are still frustrated with the slow rehabilitation and limited federal funding. However, I have to ask myself why people forget the law of destruction and reconstruction. It is hard for New Orleanians not to lament about the slow reconstruction in New Orleans. It is impossible to rebuild at the rate of destruction. It is impossible to restore all that has been destroyed after only two years!
Because I just moved to New Orleans, I can’t help but wonder what the city’s condition was like before the levees broke in 2005. I have to believe, however, that the entire city was not in immaculate condition before the storm. In other words, the rebuilding process was ongoing before Katrina, but the flooding made it crucial for people to rebuild.
I wholeheartedly empathize with the New Orleanians who are experiencing the frustration of slowly rebuilding their homes and communities, but I have to be realistic when I pass the devastated areas each day. Instead of counting the condemned homes and remaining skeletal structures, we need to count the backhoes, construction workers, building permits, and “sold” signs. That is proof of progression and renewal. I am not rejecting the human hopelessness after a destructive force; those feelings are completely valid. Instead I am pleading that New Orleanians maintain their patience and perseverance during the seemingly endless reconstruction. Our city will be renewed once again but in time. Until then, keep reminding Americans that New Orleans is open and progress is being made, but not without the support of our communities and the entire nation. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day!
Two years ago, hurricane Katrina ripped through the north-central Gulf Coast, destroying everything in her path. In many parts of New Orleans, homes and businesses were obliterated from breached levees during Katrina’s deluge. However, the entire the city and its people were ultimately affected. Since then, Americans have been inundated with images of plight, tragedy, and hopelessness in Louisiana and Mississippi. No one can deny the devastation inflicted on lives and the sheer amount of destruction that has replaced the buildings in New Orleans.
Thousands of buildings were reduced to rubble, including entire neighborhoods, places of worship, businesses, schools, and parks. Today, many of those buildings remain untouched and the rubble still overflows into the street. New Orleanians are still frustrated with the slow rehabilitation and limited federal funding. However, I have to ask myself why people forget the law of destruction and reconstruction. It is hard for New Orleanians not to lament about the slow reconstruction in New Orleans. It is impossible to rebuild at the rate of destruction. It is impossible to restore all that has been destroyed after only two years!
Because I just moved to New Orleans, I can’t help but wonder what the city’s condition was like before the levees broke in 2005. I have to believe, however, that the entire city was not in immaculate condition before the storm. In other words, the rebuilding process was ongoing before Katrina, but the flooding made it crucial for people to rebuild.
I wholeheartedly empathize with the New Orleanians who are experiencing the frustration of slowly rebuilding their homes and communities, but I have to be realistic when I pass the devastated areas each day. Instead of counting the condemned homes and remaining skeletal structures, we need to count the backhoes, construction workers, building permits, and “sold” signs. That is proof of progression and renewal. I am not rejecting the human hopelessness after a destructive force; those feelings are completely valid. Instead I am pleading that New Orleanians maintain their patience and perseverance during the seemingly endless reconstruction. Our city will be renewed once again but in time. Until then, keep reminding Americans that New Orleans is open and progress is being made, but not without the support of our communities and the entire nation. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day!
27.9.07
don't fence me in
“Among the things they [sociologists] have learned is that most animals, and all social animals, organize themselves in groups of limited size in territories and ranges, the boundaries of which are marked in various ways by symbolic ‘fences.’”
Gated entrances, brick enclosures, lower speed limits, matching mailboxes, and cul-de-sacs are the tangible regulators that create a distinct boundary, defining the neighborhood. Though neighborhood territories are more obvious in rural and suburban United States, it takes more examination to find the regulators that create territories in urban cities. Some New Orleans neighborhoods gradually fade into the next while others establish a clear entrance and exit. The neighborhoods in New Orleans, much like other urban settings, are created through repetition and consistencies found in a neighborhood while the fences are borders or breaks in that system.
In my opinion, the Bywater is one of the most interesting neighborhoods in New Orleans. Located east of the French Quarter in the eight and ninth wards, the Bywater seems to reflect the Bohemian lifestyle. In order to really appreciate the Bywater, I think you have to embrace the ugly and see it as beauty. I have not been able to put my finger on what makes the Bywater so unique and full of character, but I have to believe it’s the neighborhood’s collective nuances. For example, the way some of the houses lean, porches sag, spray painted X-marks still exist, abandon factories abut shotguns, paint and plaster chip to reveal brick facades, and plywood patchwork has replaced siding. Loudly painted houses and gritty corner stores also contribute to the neighborhood Cajun and Creole flavor.
The Bywater residents are also more unpredictable. Characters aimlessly walk the streets, but are often friendly. I also think it is interesting that the neighborhood consists of both residential and industrial building. In a way, both seem to interact seamlessly, neither overpowering the other. In a sense, the nuances become a repetitive scene in the Bywater, helping define the neighborhood territory.
For the most part, homes uptown are better maintained as far as the eye can tell. Uptown is not a neighborhood like the Bywater but an area or quarter of the city that encompasses several smaller neighborhoods. Uptown is mostly residential and commercial with a sliver of industry along the river. Unlike Bywater, Uptown residences are not integrated with industry. The antebellum mansions sparkle with fresh paint, immaculate landscaping, and large porticoes. The colors are more muted in Uptown, but the vegetation makes up for lost color.
Massive live oak trees line the neutral grounds, regulating lines of sight and activity along St. Charles. The large trees also act as barriers against constant thru traffic and potential intruders. To match the live oak size, the homes are a much larger scale than the shotguns in the Bywater. The houses are also pushed further back on the site from the streets. This creates a void between the house, yard, trees, and street that also acts as an individual barrier between private and public. Though not all of the houses look the same, there is consistency throughout the neighborhood.
Another condition on St. Charles is Audubon Park. It serves as an extension into the community and a convergence of several neighborhoods. Community spaces such as a park, school, or cathedral server as neighborhood mergers and promotes the larger community.
My house however is more like a Bywater shotgun but located Uptown. My street is a great example of a marriage between the two. Only steps from Magazine Street, boutique shopping, dining, and art galleries are at my fingertips. Similar to St. Charles, the homes are well kept on the outside and large trees create a canopy over the streets. However, the houses are more modest like the Bywater. Although my street is off of St. Charles, the neighborhood is completely different. Once I turn off of St. Charles, the houses gradually scale down and become closer to the street. The people are more reclusive, yet friendly when you meet.
My neighborhood extends about four or five blocks in each direction, including institutions and Magazine Street. The boundary lines that determine my neighborhood are large boulevards, street conditions, and scale. Magazine Street is an example of a larger street that creates a break in the neighborhood.
Other breaks in the neighborhood systems include ruins. The Bywater consists of several houses that appear to be uninhabitable, but may in fact have residents. You cannot judge a book by its cover. On the flip, I have found that most houses that appear to be disheveled do not have habitants. Because the homes and businesses are deserted, the neighborhood experiences interruption. Once the building picks up again, a new neighborhood begins. For example, Louisiana and St. Charles has three of four corners with unoccupied buildings. Picturesque St. Charles briefly ends at the convergence of hollow buildings until occupancy and maintenance proceeds, establishing a new set of neighborhoods.
The “fence” can also be a transition between neighborhoods. Driving down the streets in New Orleans, my car sways back and forth, responding to the swells and deep potholes in the road. The street conditions become an indicator of the type of neighborhood I am about to enter. For example, the potholes are few and far between on Marengo Street and Annunciation. However, the closer I get to St. Andrew and Annunciation, the more recurring the potholes become. Thus, providing an experiential transition between areas. In fact, there are several asphalt ruins that are merely remnants of paved roads throughout New Orleans, but those are typically the neighborhoods that you are cautioned to avoid.
Not only are road conditions neighborhood determinants, but street widths also contribute to neighborhood boundaries. Bywater streets tend to be narrower than Uptown streets, with the exception of Chartres because it is one of the main roads. St. Charles is a wide boulevard with neutral ground, or median, in the middle. My street, once again, is not as large as St. Charles because it is not a main street, but it is wider than Piety for example. The larger main streets inform the neighborhoods while the narrower streets integrate create gradual transitions.
Within the larger districts in New Orleans, there are several smaller neighborhoods that either have distinct boundary markers or gradual transitions. Both form a mental boundary around the neighborhood; sometimes a warning before proceeding or an impressive welcome. Conditions such as street conditions and sizes, house scale and architectural styles create some of the most obvious boundaries.
There is one condition that I purposely omitted because it is the first condition we look for and the hardest to look past. In New Orleans, the first mistake is judging a house by its cover. Because homes in the Bywater still have Katrina X-marks or is in disrepair, does not mean that the home has been abandoned or that it’s a bad neighborhood. Look beyond any preconceived notion of ugly. Instead, look at the character, history, and story that the architecture and its owner tell.
Gated entrances, brick enclosures, lower speed limits, matching mailboxes, and cul-de-sacs are the tangible regulators that create a distinct boundary, defining the neighborhood. Though neighborhood territories are more obvious in rural and suburban United States, it takes more examination to find the regulators that create territories in urban cities. Some New Orleans neighborhoods gradually fade into the next while others establish a clear entrance and exit. The neighborhoods in New Orleans, much like other urban settings, are created through repetition and consistencies found in a neighborhood while the fences are borders or breaks in that system.
In my opinion, the Bywater is one of the most interesting neighborhoods in New Orleans. Located east of the French Quarter in the eight and ninth wards, the Bywater seems to reflect the Bohemian lifestyle. In order to really appreciate the Bywater, I think you have to embrace the ugly and see it as beauty. I have not been able to put my finger on what makes the Bywater so unique and full of character, but I have to believe it’s the neighborhood’s collective nuances. For example, the way some of the houses lean, porches sag, spray painted X-marks still exist, abandon factories abut shotguns, paint and plaster chip to reveal brick facades, and plywood patchwork has replaced siding. Loudly painted houses and gritty corner stores also contribute to the neighborhood Cajun and Creole flavor.
The Bywater residents are also more unpredictable. Characters aimlessly walk the streets, but are often friendly. I also think it is interesting that the neighborhood consists of both residential and industrial building. In a way, both seem to interact seamlessly, neither overpowering the other. In a sense, the nuances become a repetitive scene in the Bywater, helping define the neighborhood territory.
For the most part, homes uptown are better maintained as far as the eye can tell. Uptown is not a neighborhood like the Bywater but an area or quarter of the city that encompasses several smaller neighborhoods. Uptown is mostly residential and commercial with a sliver of industry along the river. Unlike Bywater, Uptown residences are not integrated with industry. The antebellum mansions sparkle with fresh paint, immaculate landscaping, and large porticoes. The colors are more muted in Uptown, but the vegetation makes up for lost color.
Massive live oak trees line the neutral grounds, regulating lines of sight and activity along St. Charles. The large trees also act as barriers against constant thru traffic and potential intruders. To match the live oak size, the homes are a much larger scale than the shotguns in the Bywater. The houses are also pushed further back on the site from the streets. This creates a void between the house, yard, trees, and street that also acts as an individual barrier between private and public. Though not all of the houses look the same, there is consistency throughout the neighborhood.
Another condition on St. Charles is Audubon Park. It serves as an extension into the community and a convergence of several neighborhoods. Community spaces such as a park, school, or cathedral server as neighborhood mergers and promotes the larger community.
My house however is more like a Bywater shotgun but located Uptown. My street is a great example of a marriage between the two. Only steps from Magazine Street, boutique shopping, dining, and art galleries are at my fingertips. Similar to St. Charles, the homes are well kept on the outside and large trees create a canopy over the streets. However, the houses are more modest like the Bywater. Although my street is off of St. Charles, the neighborhood is completely different. Once I turn off of St. Charles, the houses gradually scale down and become closer to the street. The people are more reclusive, yet friendly when you meet.
My neighborhood extends about four or five blocks in each direction, including institutions and Magazine Street. The boundary lines that determine my neighborhood are large boulevards, street conditions, and scale. Magazine Street is an example of a larger street that creates a break in the neighborhood.
Other breaks in the neighborhood systems include ruins. The Bywater consists of several houses that appear to be uninhabitable, but may in fact have residents. You cannot judge a book by its cover. On the flip, I have found that most houses that appear to be disheveled do not have habitants. Because the homes and businesses are deserted, the neighborhood experiences interruption. Once the building picks up again, a new neighborhood begins. For example, Louisiana and St. Charles has three of four corners with unoccupied buildings. Picturesque St. Charles briefly ends at the convergence of hollow buildings until occupancy and maintenance proceeds, establishing a new set of neighborhoods.
The “fence” can also be a transition between neighborhoods. Driving down the streets in New Orleans, my car sways back and forth, responding to the swells and deep potholes in the road. The street conditions become an indicator of the type of neighborhood I am about to enter. For example, the potholes are few and far between on Marengo Street and Annunciation. However, the closer I get to St. Andrew and Annunciation, the more recurring the potholes become. Thus, providing an experiential transition between areas. In fact, there are several asphalt ruins that are merely remnants of paved roads throughout New Orleans, but those are typically the neighborhoods that you are cautioned to avoid.
Not only are road conditions neighborhood determinants, but street widths also contribute to neighborhood boundaries. Bywater streets tend to be narrower than Uptown streets, with the exception of Chartres because it is one of the main roads. St. Charles is a wide boulevard with neutral ground, or median, in the middle. My street, once again, is not as large as St. Charles because it is not a main street, but it is wider than Piety for example. The larger main streets inform the neighborhoods while the narrower streets integrate create gradual transitions.
Within the larger districts in New Orleans, there are several smaller neighborhoods that either have distinct boundary markers or gradual transitions. Both form a mental boundary around the neighborhood; sometimes a warning before proceeding or an impressive welcome. Conditions such as street conditions and sizes, house scale and architectural styles create some of the most obvious boundaries.
There is one condition that I purposely omitted because it is the first condition we look for and the hardest to look past. In New Orleans, the first mistake is judging a house by its cover. Because homes in the Bywater still have Katrina X-marks or is in disrepair, does not mean that the home has been abandoned or that it’s a bad neighborhood. Look beyond any preconceived notion of ugly. Instead, look at the character, history, and story that the architecture and its owner tell.
12.9.07
studio (yellow bldg) from the miss
downtown nola
on the ol' mississip
photo taken from the banks of the 9th ward
[lillehammer, norway]
difference: new orleans doesn't have high viewpoints to overlook water
difference: water is part of the landscape
similarity: lake pontchartrain is an interactive body of water
[driving along a fjord]
difference: tchoupitoulas street runs along the river, but high walls contain the mississippi and its barges so you can't see the water
[on a platform built over a large waterfall]
difference: nola's water is not as predictable or controllable
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