The Big Easy
I arrived in New Orleans around noon on Thursday and hopped the shuttle to the hotel. (You know you're in New Orleans by the number of times the lady who sells you the shuttle ticket calls you "baby".) The ride into town was sad and sobering: FEMA trailer after FEMA trailer, blue roof after blue roof, broken and boarded-up windows, piles of debris and trashed cars, esoteric red paint markings on houses. I got to the hotel just as the rains came, and as check-in time wasn't for a couple of hours I stashed my bag, grabbed my umbrella and headed to the French Quarter to find some lunch. I had quiche and salad at La Boucherie, and then wandered about the shops. You will not be surprised to hear that within a couple of hours of my arrival in town I had already bought some books. (It's not my fault, really; the Librairie Bookshop has a sign that says, "Come in and buy a book"; how could I resist?) Returning to the hotel, I was just checking in when my sister Stacey arrived, so we went to the room, unpacked, freshened up and went out, back to the French Quarter, more shops and yet more books. (Well, we had to go admire the cat at Dauphine Street Books, didn't we?) Then Cathy called to say she had arrived so we went to meet up with her. We had a late reservation for dinner at Herbsaint, just a couple of blocks away, which we were familiar with from a previous trip. I can recommend the warm chocolate beignets.
We began Friday with a visit to Café du Monde. This is a required stop on any trip to New Orleans. It is also the only time I ever drink coffee! Café au lait and beignets, yum. (Don't wear black; you'll get powdered sugar all over everything!) Then we caught the bus to Jazz Fest. The Fairgrounds are in the Gentilly neighborhood, which was hit hard by Katrina, the signs of which are still evident. Arriving before the music started, we went to the Grandstand, where the Backstreet Cultural Museum, and other cultural heritage groups had exhibits. We had a long talk with folk art historian AshtonRamsey, and admired the handiwork of the Mardi Gras Indians.
Then on to music. First stop, the Gospel Tent, which has the highest energy level of a high-energy festival. Caught the end of the Friendly Five Gospel Singers set and the beginning of Gregg Martinez', but moved on to the Jazz & Heritage Stage for the Mardi Gras Indian Rhythm Section and the CongoSquare/Louisiana Rebirth Stage for Monk Boudreaux & the Golden Eagles Mardi Gras Indians. Somewhere in here I had merguez and couscous with yoghurt sauce, and mango freeze, and mandarin orange iced tea. (Not all at the same time!) Best was last: Fi Yi Yi & the Mandingo Warriors Mardi Gras Indians, headed by Big Chief Victor Harris. (Click here & scroll down for pics of the Big Chief). Big Queen was tossing small tambourines and I caught one, so I was prepared for the entire rest of the Fest! Before we left, we stopped at the Book tent (and I didn't buy anything, but my sisters both did). Back to the Quarter for dinner, at a restaurant the name of which escapes me but which had excellent barbecued shrimp and bread pudding.
Saturday, we had tea and pastries at a coffee shop in the Quarter and went to a couple of places that were "must-do's". Cathy wanted to go to Kitchen Witch, a store specializing in used cookbooks, and Stacey wanted to hit Rumors, which has some of the best masks in New Orleans. We stopped by A Gallery for Fine Photography to learn that Herman Leonard is settled in Los Angeles and likely to start printing again soon, and also saw an exhibit of stunning photographs by Joséphine Sacabo. We also dropped into the Historic New Orleans Collection; they had an exhibit of Jacob Lawrence paintings of the life of Toussaint L'Ouverture, which was very good.
Then back to the Fest. First stop, the Jazz Tent to hear New Orleans' First Lady of Jazz, Germaine Bazzle, whom I adore and who is still going strong and in great voice at 74. Then the Black Feathers Mardi Gras Indians at the Heritage Stage, while enjoying andouille calas (a kind of rice croquette) with green onion sauce. We wanted to see Antoinette K-Doe make okra gumbo, but they were running late at Zatarain's Cajun Cabin, so we listened to Karen Celestan interview Ms. Bazzle instead. Then the Gospel Tent - the New Orleans Spiritualettes, who wound up with a rompin', stompin' version of "When the Saints go Marching In", followed by a family group, The Johnson Extension, several generations of full-out gospel singers. We wrapped up the day (and, for us, the Fest) with Nathan & the Zydeco Cha-Chas (NOTE: clicking on this link gets you music!) , including Nathan's six-year-old son on washboard and drums.
We had dinner that night at a restaurant recommended by Tzurriz, Jamila's Café. As it was a Saturday night, we got a belly dancer along with excellent Tunisian food (lamb shish kebab for me, lamb tagine for Cathy and vegetarian couscous for Stacey).
The weather, despite the rain on Thursday, was surprisingly good. Scattered thunderstorms were predicted for both Friday and Saturday, but never appeared, and the temperature hovered around 80º (F). Sunny on Friday, and a bit overcast on Saturday. All in all, great weather to hang out listening to good music and eating good food.
We all had flights within an hour or so of each other on Sunday, so we breakfasted at La Boucherie, then got the shuttle to the airport and home. When I got in, I noticed a large lump in my bed. Apparently, Marissa has decided she likes to hide under the covers. I had a wonderful time in NOLA, but it was nice to see the cats again!
THE CITY AND KATRINA
There is no doubt in my mind whatsoever that New Orleans will come back. We spent a lot of time talking to people, like Ashton Ramsey, Victor Harris and others, and there is so much will and determination to keep the city and its traditions alive that it is hard to imagine it not happening. As someone said, people don't leave New Orleans. New Orleanians don't have family "elsewhere", they're all in NOLA. Everywhere at the Fest, you heard, "come on home", "we're coming back", "we're here to stay". There are piles of debris and collapsed houses and refrigerators on the sidewalks, but there is also construction and clean-up and renovation going on all over the city. There are t-shirts with rude slogans about FEMA and buttons saying, "Make levees, not war". There is grit and courage and anger and worry and hope.
I picked up a book while I was there, Chris Rose's 1 Dead in Attic, a collection of his articles in the Times-Picayune. And in the eponymous article he writes about some homes in the Eighth Ward, where many of the Mardi Gras Indians live, and where they have "retrieved their tattered and muddy Indian suits and sequins and feathers and they have nailed them to the fronts of their houses." New Orleans has nailed its colors to its houses; it's not going without a fight.