New Orleans, Part One: The French Quarter

That Tim writes a good summary of some of the wonderful writers we met in New Orleans. I’d just make a pictorial accompaniment to his post, but I’m missing photos of a couple of the authors, plus… I’m a writer–like I could shut up.

Throughout the Saints and Sinners weekend, I found myself wondering two things: Would Jim and Timmy enjoy this as much as I am? and What would Famous Author Rob Byrnes drink? In fact, there are lots of writers and aspiring writers who should be there when we go again, because it was such an energizing experience that if the festival will have us back, Tim even agrees that he’ll leave The Compound. That speaks volumes.

First, I apologize to New Orleans because I didn’t do those things that seem mandatory for visitors. I’m not much of a drinker, so I didn’t wander from bar to bar until friends had to hold my hair back while I puked on your sidewalks. I enjoyed your city sober. Second, I apologize to you because I know you have some of the greatest cuisine in the world, but if all I have is a weekend, I eat carefully or else I go home with photos only of bathroom tile and interesting sink fixtures.

I didn’t tour your ravaged neighborhoods and gawk at what failed levees did to you. Those who know and love you and live with you do that because it’s part of their emotional landscape. But outsiders… Maybe your scars and wounds should be seen by those who don’t get the extent of what you’re dealing with, and especially by those who should be helping. But I understand you’re a city recovering, and I can offer you all my compassion without leering at you. The few things we saw as we drove in are sitting on my heart, so I understand how your own hearts are burdened. It makes me admire you all the more for your spunk and spirit. As a fellow Southerner, I’m not surprised.

I noticed your differences. Businesses closed and shuttered permanently until new ones can fill the empty spaces. Limited hours in some businesses. Cash only in a lot of places, and I don’t remember that from other trips. Less choices on menus or hotel room service. Less of your famously hospitable locals to take care of tourists. Certainly less tourists.

I told our editor, who was on his first visit to your city, that right now, New Orleans is like one of those great places to visit just before it catches on. I know you need all that tourist money, and I’m sure it’ll come, but for the moment, it was pleasant not to have to wait in long lines or maneuver through throngs of people to get anywhere. I mean, I am a tourist, so maybe I shouldn’t be snotty about them, but please, my hard-won sleep was disrupted repeatedly by a few of my more obnoxious fellow travelers (SLAM! DO YOU HAVE THE CAMERA? MAKE SURE YOU HAVE THE CAMERA! SLAM! WHERE ARE WE GOING FIRST? LET’S STAND IN THE HALLWAY OF OUR HOTEL AT SIX IN THE MORNING AND TALK TO ONE ANOTHER! SLAM! DO YOU HAVE MONEY WITH YOU? HOW MUCH MONEY? LET’S COME AND GO DRUNK SEVERAL TIMES DURING THE NIGHT, AND DON’T FORGET TO SLAM THE DOOR AGAIN!) (These were not Saints and Sinners attendees, by the way.)

Oh, but what’s not different… the galleries of paintings and jewelry and perfumers (whenever I see a perfume shop, I think of Tom Robbins’ novel JITTERBUG PERFUME and I look for Madame Lily Devalier and V’lu Jackson and their mysterious ancient bottle). The perfumers add to the competing aromas of pots and boxes overflowing with fragrant flowers, incense slipping out like ghosts through the open doors of shops, horses, aging wood, and alcohol (Greg is right, NOTHING smells quite like Bourbon Street; it’s not the place to walk for good scents.). The glimpses beyond your iron fences and gates down narrow walks or driveways into your secret courtyards, where the lush beauty and life of real New Orleans is tucked away from our scrutiny.

And the sounds never stop in the Quarter. Music is always spilling from the bars, shops, and restaurants, and being played in the streets. People are always talking and laughing, horses clopping along, cars and horns–and instead of feeling like my ears are being assaulted by the cacophony, it somehow all comes together in a harmonious melody that will never be heard anywhere else.

I’ve never known another city that can take all of life–the joys, the pains, the failures, the vices, the virtues, the grit, the sublime–and turn it into a celebration. New Orleans is a lesson in thumbing our nose at the past, winking at the future, and living in the moment. I love New Orleans.

…more to come…