New Orleans was a place I never imagined before I actually lived there. I had no idea that it was primarily surrounded by swamps, bayous, and waterways. To get there you can only do so by bridge. I never knew what a ‘camp’ was, or a
A Camp in the Bayous south of New Orleans: Photo by Me.
stoop, or a beignet. I didn’t know the difference between Cajun and Creole, and believe me they are NOT one and the same, ENTIRELY different. I didn’t know about Mardi Gras. I didn’t know the difference between a balcony and a ‘gallery’. I had never sucked head like you do in the south… and it’s not sexual, trust me; never even had a crawfish or knew you could eat them.
I lived in New Orleans from early 2004 to late 2005, only just over a year almost two by the time it was all said and done, but it was a lifetime in many ways. It became ‘home’ in a way that no other place ever was or has been since.
I was pulled to move there by something in my soul, and I followed the call, selling everything we owned, putting the stuff we wanted to keep in storage and loaded up the van and moved. We lived in a small town in the swams for a few months at first, called Houma, but spent a lot of our time in the city and finally just decided to move there where I took a job working for GrayLine Tours.
There within GrayLine, I learned about the city and I came to fall head over heels in love with her. I learned her history inside and out.. of all parts: The River, the Garden District, the French Quarter, the Tremaine, Algiers, Metairie. The city became our stomping grounds, our play ground and our world.
photo by me. Decatur Street.
I studied her, got to know her intimately. I spent hours walking her streets, all hours of the day, discovering her treasures and the little places that the tourists don’t even know about. We sat in Jackson Square and visited with the homeless, the Goth kids of the city. We got our palms read by one of the many fortune tellers we befriended in the Square. I learned how to drive anywhere in the city and could to this day probably do so without a map, although I still have my city map and will not part with it.
I fell in love with her heritage but also with her architecture. The buildings built in a way that is perhaps more unique than anywhere else in the world, built to withstand the sway of a high watertable, with special designs. The colors in the French Quarter, all bright vivid and gawdy in their glory. The stature of the ancient mansions of the Garden District. The smells of the courtyards blooming with every kind of flower and plant possible: the Magnolia trees whose blooms so aromatic and beautiful lose their scent the moment they are picked and seperated from the branch. I became enamored with the Live Oaks, sprawling across the Garden District draped in their gowns of Spanish Moss, and to this day they haunt me.
I became passionate about the food. Plates full of spicy exotic foods… crawfish, squid, Gumbo, Jambalaya, and all served with a healthy serving of Red beans and rice. I learned the difference between Andouille and Boudin sausages. I
Tug Boat on the River. Photo by Me.
learned to cook with Cayenne Pepper like it was salt. I developed a crush on French pastries like Beignets at the Cafe Du Monde, and other places that the rest of the world only reads about in Vampire novels.
New Orleans still calls to my soul like the boat horns across the Mississippi River do in the early hours of dawn when the sun is barely awake and the fog still settles lightly upon the Moon River.
She is a city of history, heritage and mystery, where Voo Doo and Hoo Doo are real and they bury the dead with a Jazz Funeral party to celebrate Life rather than simply grieve Loss. She is a place where I could be myself TOTALLY and undeniably ME, to the full, without question, without second glance and without judgement.
And though the lady and I have been seperated now for nearly five years since Katrina ripped us away from each other, I still long, and still hold a place forevermore in my heart and soul for that place where my Soul could truly feel at Home.
Sitting in Jackson Square. Photo by Me.
