
The drive to New Orleans was wild, with amazing cloud formations and torrential T-storms. At one point lighting cracked only a few hundred yards from our truck, the closest we’ve ever seen it strike. As we drove closer to the city we saw a lot of damaged roofs and residual Katrina damage. We got to Claire’s apartment and met her boyfriend Chris. Claire had just gotten a job teaching elementary students at the
International School of Louisiana, providing French immersion instruction under the guidance of a native speaking French lead teacher. Chris does carpentry and volunteer work doing building and restoration projects for Katrina victims. That night we went into the city for some good New Orleans
gumbo, delicious. After dinner we walked along the river and saw some of the French Quarter by night. The next day while Claire and Chris were at work Alan and Alyssa took the trolley back to the French Quarter.

For breakfast we went to
Café du Monde and got
beignets with powdered sugar and chicory coffee, which is pretty much all that they serve there. The day was oppressively humid with intermittent thunderstorms, but we managed to stay dry and explored the French Market, a few antique stores, and went into pretty much every art gallery on Royal Street (there are a lot of them!)

That night we went out to see some live jazz at
Preservation Hall. You’re allowed to drink alcohol on the street as long as it’s in a plastic container, and we drank our cocktails while we waited in line for the show. Alyssa got a potent
mint julep and Alan was jealous. The band was great, a tight ensemble and each member a great soloist, too. Claire requested
Tennessee Waltz and they played it. Later Claire drove us around more of the city and explained how different parts of town have been dealing with the recovery and aftermath since Katrina.

She also talked about the New Orleans tradition of the
jazz funeral. When someone dies, after the funeral procession, a so-called “second line” will form out of the mourners and other community members to honor the deceased with a celebratory procession through the streets of spirited dance and music. The passing on of a person’s soul to a better place is seen as something that should be celebrated, and rightly so. It’s a beautiful tradition quite ingrained in the culture and reflected in the art. The next day we went out exploring on our bikes so we could cover a lot more ground and not feel so oppressed by the humidity.

Right when we got out there, we saw a wall of rain that was slowly coming our way, and had to take cover and postpone the start of our exploring a bit. When it cleared up we went down Magazine St. taking pictures, hitting up an amazing bead shop, ate lunch at
Surrey’s where Alan tried
wheatgrass 
for the first time. Apparently before Katrina this wouldn't have happened--Alan trying wheatgrass...but as a city regenerates change happens faster than normal, and wheatgrass comes to New Orleans. After lunch we spent a long time in a great locally run art gallery called
Berta's and Mina's Antiquities that in our opinion surpassed any of the ones on Royal Street. Alan fell in love with a painting by a local New Orleans artist named Adelma Rasch. The piece, titled
The Far, Far East, was painted in the 70s, and Alan actually bought it, one of his biggest splurges to date.

He never thought he’d spend that kind of money on a piece of artwork, and it's very rare that a piece will strike him so...anyway he knew that this could be the one painting he ever buys and would be happy so he bought it and is happy. He's also done some research on the artist since and has turned up some cool stuff, and hopefully this does not lead to further purchases. Later we biked past the oldest church in Nola, then through Louis Armstrong park,

then took refuge in a coffee shop as another powerful thunderstorm came through. That night Claire and Chris cooked us a big hearty dinner, and then we went out to get drinks at a fancy hotel venue. Alan got a
Sazerac, one of the oldest known cocktails which originated in pre-Civil War New Orleans. Overall, the more time we spent in New Orleans the more we loved it...beautiful wrought iron grating, Mardi Gras beads hanging from the majestic live oak trees which line the streets, scurrying lizards, insane T-storms, delicious food, and the friendly, relaxed atmosphere. On the drive to Austin the next morning Alan Poe’d some floetry reflecting on his impressions of the city:
New Orleans rhyme
New oilins on my face
oh this humid placeplain for me to seewhy it takes a slower paceno rat race here, but lots of fat kats and beergreasy gumbo collars ‘long side old time bourbon scholarsbig dishes, cat and craw fishescatchin’ some big mouth brass with long belts and sass.
French quarter for a bus back through humbled lands of crumbled crust and lightening dust and tumbled rumbling sazerac lust.Gusts of hope in the winds of cope, a lazy river lopes through time in its own second line.