With a $50 Mastercard promo code burning in my pocket (valid until March 15 for any AA flight), lots of IHG points for a hotel right next to the French Quarter, and nothing pressing to do at home I embarked on a quick four-night getaway to New Orleans. I hadn't visited the Crescent City in more than a decade, so it was time to get an updated first-person view of this interesting city.
When I visited NOLA for the first time just months after arriving in the United States back in the late '70s I was struck by the dichotomy of glitz and glory versus poverty and decay. Nothing has changed since then. Continuing to get hammered by several major hurricanes (the latest of which had been Ida last August) over these past four decades certainly didn't help any of the city's infrastructure, and the number of homeless populating the streets has, if anything, only increased. At the same time, tourists once again flock to The Big Easy with few apparent post-pandemic worries, bent on partying come hell or high water. And the majestic Mississippi river just continues to flow by ...
Over the years I had visited NOLA several times, as part of our honeymoon in 1989 and then again to officiate the inaugural Ironman event, plus another one or two times, and every time I have been struck by how vibrant and European-in-an-American way this city is. New Orleans is unique—no doubt about it. But unique does not necessarily mean pretty. In New Orleans all facets of life seem to be concentrated in a very small space, the good, the bad, and the ugly. That may be the reason why New Orleans is so fascinating, but I would also venture that many of the Bourbon Street tourists never see the decay of the outlying areas.
On my first day I took the ferry across to Algiers Point, which just one week after Mardis Gras still showed leftovers of the festivities but much more so the traces of the last hurricane. Beads hanging in trees, krewe adornments on porches, shuttered businesses, warped sidewalks and potholed streets—it's all part of the overall picture. I visited the Rosetree glass studio and gallery, occupying an art deco theater in a run-down neighborhood that had seen better days.
Later, back on the left bank of the river, I walked through the Bywater neighborhood, with its colorful murals, community refrigerators, abandoned factories, and hip microbreweries. Rusting bridges and colorful houses co-exist, women in expensive Patagonia jackets walk elegant dogs in streets littered with trash. It's all a bit mind boggling, but it also seems to all fit together, somehow.
On day two of my visit I went on a swamp tour, something I had never done before. I had opted for a pontoon boat tour since it was a bit on the cool side to take a ride in an airboat, and I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed this excursion. If anything, people out in these parts are resilient, picking up after each hurricane and continuing their lives in the bayou. The tour guide provided an interesting glimpse into this life, rather believable as he had grown up just a mile from where our tour started. And I have to say that seeing all those alligators either sunning themselves or slowly cruising in the water was something that you won't experience in a zoo! OK, there was some chumming of 'gators (with marshmallows), but the tourists need to be given a show, after all.
If you are after music, New Orleans is definitely one of
the places to go. If you have the time, do yourself a favor and visit the Jazz Museum, which is small but hyper-interesting. (As a bonus, it is housed in the old New Orleans Mint and you will learn a lot about that part of the city's history as well.) During my earlier visits I had been sticking to Bourbon Street to hear various forms of jazz and zydeco, but during this visit all the clubs in the tourist mecca were hosting bands that were much more rap, R&B, grunge, and hip-hop than jazz driven. Not really my cup of tea, and I was a bit disappointed during my first evening. But then I found other establishments (and there are so, so many of them with live music!) that hit my musical taste buds and I was one happy camper. A good place to start are the clubs around Frenchmen Street, such as BMC, Spotted Cat, or Maison.
Music can be heard not just inside of bars but also out on the street. Be it the kid drumming on a plastic bucket, a guy with a fiddle and some electronic gadgets, or a group of what could have passed as Juilliard dropouts, you will run into someone who is trying to make a living with musical talent. Guitar cases are open to accept tips, and for those who don't carry cash the new way to show your appreciation is to scan the artist-provided QR code and Venmo your contribution. Even the unmovable pantomime guy and the fellows with the pythons used this method of catering to the new realities of the digital age. Welcome to the third decade of the millennium.
Tip jars are everywhere, and panhandlers will hit you up for spare change. You'd think that nobody in New Orleans is paid regular wages and that the cost of living should be rather low. But aside from the dirt-cheap transportation system (a one-day systemwide tram, bus, and ferry Jazzy Pass costs a whopping 80 cents for those older than 65, and just $3 for all other adults; a single ride ticket from the airport to downtown cost me 40 cents) nothing else seems to come as a bargain. A pint of beer will be $8, a muffuletta at a deli counter will set you back $13 or more, and most places will charge you for a po' boy sandwich or a regular sized bowl of gumbo (for crying out loud, that's simply soup!) $20 or more! And the tip jar is right there ...
If you've been to New Orleans you will have experienced some of what I have described. It is indeed a city with much beauty. The wrought iron balconies in the French Quarter, street after street, are simply gorgeous; no wonder there are so many historical markers. (Actually, I was wondering whether NOLA is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, but so far no gumbo.) Houses are often colorful, and there are murals and art installations all over.
The iconic streetcars—in red, yellow, and green—liven up the street scene, and of course at night New Orleans is glamourous in the neon lights of Bourbon street. But wherever you look, there's poverty and misery, there's a loose gutter or the paint is peeling. Garbage piles up, and I even saw some rats scurrying around in broad daylight. The fellow in the Uncle Sam suit who was trying to engage passers-by in acerbic political dialog (for a tip) was shouting "Fuck Biden" mere meters from the fellow sprawled out on the sidewalk.
If you haven't been to New Orleans, you should go before it gets wiped out by the next hurricane. It is a fascinating city and I will surely return one of these days again, if for nothing else than a few evenings of drifting from bar to bar and sampling more of NOLA's excellent brew scene. But I will also know to expect the divide between rich and poor to be even wider, and to not be surprised if the homeless encampments below the overpasses have increased in size even more.
Let me finish this post by mentioning that I had the unexpected pleasure to get together with my old friend Todd, who had been on my officiating crews for several Ironman events more than a decade ago. I didn't realize that he and his wife live in Gonzales, almost three-quarters of the way to Baton Rouge. He had seen one of my Facebook posts and contacted me, and on my last day in the city we got together for an extended lunch that involved multiple beers and the best meal of my entire trip: a heaping load of the freshest crawfish I've ever had, at Frankie and Johnny's! Thank you, Todd, for reaching out and driving into the city to meet me!
After four nights in the Holiday Inn Express it was time to ride the 202 bus back to Louis Armstrong International Airport and enjoy another two upgraded flights back to Lubbock. What an interesting and satisfying short getaway!
Jürgen
