I’m writing from inside the minivan on a rainy morning in Sam Houston National Forest. I arrived at this campsite last night in the dark, and between the rain this morning, the dozen or so gunshots I heard last night, and the pile of human feces I noticed this morning two feet from where I parked (I consider it a miracle I didn’t step in it last night), I’ve given myself permission to stay in the van and reflect on New Orleans, rather than stepping out to explore the forest.
Above all, New Orleans was a needed reminder of the diversity of urban environments and of human communities. Not everywhere is like New York, it turns out. High energy courses through the veins of NYC. Anxiety courses through the brains of NYC. In New Orleans, each day I stepped out of the house, I was greeted by charm, creativity, quirkiness, ingenuity, beauty, calm, and gentleness. (Oh, and I can’t discount the lovely non-blizzard weather.) And breathing room. I also shouldn’t understate the freedom of being able to easily find parking, walk through the streets without having to dodge crowds, and even walk several blocks without a mask due to the paucity of others. And when I did see others: what beautiful people! Strange, tattooed, friendly, attractive people everywhere you go.
Yes, let’s talk about the people. My original impetus for hitting New Orleans was to spend time with my friend Misha, who had moved there from NYC in November to support her family through some illness. I wanted to offer Misha any support I could. My time with Misha was really precious, but I also was pleased to connect with several other special New Orleans locals.
I’ve done a lot of solo travel in my day (including to New Orleans), and a constant gap in my travels was connecting with locals and getting a sense for life there. I’m so grateful to have been able to close that gap in this New Orleans visit, connecting with both new friends and old. Izzy: fearless, intelligent, spontaneous, caring human. Alex: artist, ayurvedist, powerful, mystical human. Mark: chef, gardener, maker, musician, and generous human. James: bold, innovative, iconoclastic, bus-living human. Nicolina: ambitious, spiritual, friendly human. Shaina: energetic, curious, creative, resilient human. And of course, Misha: strong, empathic, magical, joyful human. Even the neighbors were friendly, chatting with me and smiling at me whenever we saw each other. These were just the people I had a chance to encounter in the 10 days I was there.
Beyond the people, New Orleans contains so much art and creativity! It just covers the streets. From the “rust museum” someone built into a tree outside their house, to the mosaic street names built into the sidewalk. From the graffiti to the immense murals. From the signs on lampposts to the signs in windows. From the music pouring out of peoples’ homes to the music on the street corner to the live recording session in an empty building.
And lush greenery everywhere. Be it people’s flower gardens or their succulents out front of their houses. The fruit trees, and the ancient live oaks covered in moss. The private food gardens and the community gardens on stoops.
And such a spirit of generosity and humanness in the air. The men selling t-shirts on the side of the road to fundraise for a charity. The community fridges. The musical jam sessions on stoops for anyone passing by. Evening Mardi Gras celebrations. Frivolous silliness in the art all around. People who smile and say hi. Everything just feels so… humane.
And good god, the food. I barely scratched the surface this visit, due to COVID, but past visits to New Orleans have established it as a Mecca. I ate several poboys (shrimp and oysters, every time), and a sublime muffuletta sold from someone’s home. Charbroiled oysters, and Burmese curry. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to get a snowball or a doorbell popsicle. They’re on the list for next time. And how could I forget king cake? My favorite one was retrieved from a dumpster by my WWOOF friend Mark, and it was chock-full of blueberry filling. Speaking of Mark, he has a good-sized garden full of highly-unusual vegetables, herbs, and greens, which he invited me to harvest for myself. Particularly exciting were his kumquats, which I voraciously consumed, and something he called “finger limes,” which are small limes shaped like a finger that grow on a thorny bush and whose internal juicy sacs are small beads, exactly the size and consistency of caviar. I took some home and candied them, which both Mark and I were delighted to discover was a delicious way to treat them!
It’s hard to really put into words the subjective experience I had in New Orleans. (Credit where due, it was an experience that was very much enabled by the generosity of my friend Zach and his family, allowing me use of their beautiful home.) I hope that relating some of the constitutive parts of my time there may help to communicate a bit of my experience. It should come at no surprise for me to conclude by saying that I will, without question, return to New Orleans.
