This morning, a guided tour of New Orleans, by "car", or at least what is a car here but a mini-bus in Europe. Out through the Vieux Carre, picking up history, myth, mythical history on the way; and on over the canal to see the "levee" that burst 5 years ago, and the Lower 9th district. For levee read wall, and I'm not talking about a big wall, nothing like the Berlin Wall, or the walls separating districts in Dublin or Belfast. It's not that there is no sign of tragedy; the memorial cleverly representing the height of the water is poignant, especially as from the car the height of the pole is roof height on all the dwellings I can see.
Before I came here I had absorbed media stories about how neglected this area was, how the residents had been simply left to sink or swim in the years since, how more was needed for those who had lost everything. But it was difficult to see this, I guess without an understanding of how things were before to contrast with. The houses that we saw were new, and well cared for, displaying invention in decoration, and yet an overall unity with the place and the community they were still in. The empty lots, mostly grassed over, they did not scream of emptiness to me, but cycles of fallow, seeding and harvest. The remaining ruins were not overwhelming, they also reminded me of Ireland, where planning permission is not needed to build the flashest of new houses as long as there was an old cottage on the land, and often the old cottage was kept there as a reminder. The impression overall to me seemed to be one of "Shit happens, get over it"; exemplified by the "FIDO" comment of the driver - "Forget it, drive on." Recovery seems to have a political element, with celebrity endorsed projects; projects for musicians - so as not to lose the "soul" of New Orleans, or at any rate the tourist dollars.
And then we drove to the cemeteries, where a plot and vault could be had for over $1million. Way, way more than a new house in the district we had just come out of. Given the population of the city of the living (~400,000 people I'm told), and the population of the city of the dead, well, the money seems to be flowing to the wrong places; as Mum said, you obviously can take it with you when you go.
It would be trite and an oversimplification to say I was speechless about this contrast; I don't really know what to think. I guess so far that New Orleans had felt like a cohesive vibrant, relaxed community; and I was suddenly aware of the divisions under the surface. There was a discusion last night on how to sum up the place in one word... I'm still searching for that word though.
Saturday, September 4
Well met
After a whisky tinted afternoon, the HoW'ers finally all get together around a table in Lafitte's at the Doubletree... En route to the hotel Shauna & Kevin have found a book, just lying in the street. An 18th century French dictionary, well, part of one at least, from T to Z.
Looking suitably literary, coffee cups (with their "secret" Irish ingredient) and beer mugs clutter the table. A further battered 3 volumes were also lying to be found, but too big, too heavy, too battered to be of use they were left behind. I should be able to think of a story to tell about those books, and if I can't, one of us here should... but I suppose that the "true story" of how they came to be there would be weirder, more mythic than I could imagine.
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