Paradise or Paradise Lost; An Insight into New Orlean's Gray Areas

As a newcomer to New Orleans there are so many different historical and social aspects to take in order to truly understand the town that it can be overwhelming.  This is not an easy town to 'understand' as it were, there being contradicting factions deviating like an ekg line back and forth over the status quo.  Homeless people and millionaires can be seen traversing the same commute by foot, there is all of this joy and energy and happiness flanked with misery, guns, shootings, and murders.  A town fostered by nuns and known for its prostitution, with music notes drifting through back alleys striking the same cords as the struggle of an armed robbery.  

I think on this constantly trying to put it all together. I walk past a condemned a house with ivy coming out of the chimney and meth heads squatting in filth on the rickety remains of a floor, next to a beautifully restored home.  I can be quite difficult to process.

The thing is, sometimes I get lulled into this sense of security or safety here.  I feel comfortable walking to my destinations, and looking someone in the eye as I pass them and attempting to exchange some sort of minimal cordiality.  I am constantly surrounded by intelligent, artistic, goal-driven, and just relatively decent human beings, all drawn or kept here by the same intrinsic need to be somewhere special.  Because no matter how many murders happen here there is still something so special about this place, and the first balance you experience is finding a way to digest this bad and this good.

The second balance is how you feel about being acquiescent towards the bad and what you can do to change it without driving yourself insane.  This is the conflict that has caught me at a stalemate.  There are so many chasms, nooks, divots, and potholes to this problem it kind of feels like imagining the infinity of space. 

I don't know what the solution is.  Maybe if we concentrate on an investment in family's involvement with the educational system and visa versa, as well as the level of education provided for the lower income neighborhoods.  Or we can actually address this culture of violence that reigns like a giant roided bully shadowing over you, menacingly punching his fist into his other hand preparing for cowardly battle, the toleration of violence is a failure of the government, police force, and society.  A half-hearted acquiescence at the sound of gun shots in the night? I think not.

Don We Now Our Feathers and Glitter: It's Carnival Season!

By: Amy Thomas


Carnival Season has officially arrived and as a virgin to all of the Krewes, parades, and festivities I am in full anticipation of the next couple weeks, including Krewe du Vieux, Super Bowl, Lundi Gras, and Mardi Gras, all within days of each other--and I am certainly on the hunt for an Indian tribe.  I lived in Venice for a while and just missed out on their Carnivale, they like to add a little flare to the word, so I am itching to dive into the masked madness.

For those of you who don't know, the various Krewes put on the parades and gala's that make up the Mardi Gras season.  Members pay a range of fees depending on how elaborate, or financially viable, the Krewe is.  Every year Krewes are responsible for electing Rex, Latin for King, of Mardi Gras.

I am fortunate to have been here for almost nine months before the Carnival season. I know the lay of things, I know that I have no idea what I'm in for, but I know where to pee, I know good spots for drinks, I know how to get home. I also know that I will be working my ass off through it, making a lot of money, and attempting to party somewhere in between.

I look forward to updating you on my trials and tribulations making it through the next couple weeks here in New Orleans! Krewe du Vieux is Saturday!

In a Town of Restaurants, Where is the Food??

In a city of this size it is almost unbelievable that someone can live no where near a grocery store or stop-shop with fresh produce or meat. While shopping at Family Dollar today for a plunger I met a lady that buys all of her food there.  She was able to buy some produce at the truck on Claiborne between Pauger and Touro, but couldn't afford the prices at the New Orleans Food Co-Op in the Healing Center at Franklin and St. Claude. 

The only meat she ate she purchased already cooked from gas stations and small neighborhood grills in the area. 

This is a horrendous quality of food for this old woman to be bringing in to her body.  Add shoddy medical treatment, and the general wear and tear of being a low-income old lady and you have a drastically reduced life expectancy.  For what?  For a grocery store.  For an opportunity to treat your body right without having to take two buses to get fresh meat.

In the Lower 7th Ward, our hopes lies in two places:  the historic Circle Food Store and the St. Roch Market, both of which are currently being renovated and scheduled to open around the end of summer 2013, and both of which have remained unopened since Hurricane Katrina. 

A couple concerns arise with these hopes though, and that is the gentrification of these two establishments.  It is widely rumored that St. Roch is going to be a high-end food market similar to the Co-Op across the street.  I can barely afford the Co-Op so I'm not sure how all of the other people in the neighborhood are going to fare. 

I do know that what we the people in and around this neighborhood could use a produce, meat, and seafood market.  A traditional market.  That is all.  Nothing fancy, nothing crazy, just a freaking market.

New Years in New Orleans

It's been two days since New Years and I am in a full state of lethargic body dilapidation, braving my first day off in what feels like weeks.  The weekend proved to be explosive for tourism in New Orleans, bringing in record numbers in lieu of many large travel sights naming the town as the New Years destination spot, as well as the Sugar Bowl taking place today. 

All of this was unbeknownst to me until the pre-Mardi Gras initiation stood in a line out the door for three days in a row, open to close.  I work in a small cafe, we almost ran out of everything.  It was so much work, and late nights, and early mornings, and I wish I could say that the tips reflected the amount of high maintenance neediness that was inflicted upon us by these tourists. It is an ever-present struggle between 'can deal with/some are cool' and 'hate'--I cannot bring myself to define this relationship as 'love-hate'.

Needless to say Jackson Square was jam packed on New Years Eve, with bands and festivities beginning in the early evening and riding the party wave through midnight ending with an incredible fifteen minutes fireworks display at midnight over the Mississippi.  We took part in the festivities earlier in the night, but being exhausted, hungry, and already a little drunk, we stopped through Verti Mart and watched the fireworks from our front porch while dining on almost the best fried chicken po' boy in town (if they used traditional french bread instead of the sesame it would most definitely be the best). 

We had a great view of the river's fireworks, as well as the hundreds, literally hundreds, of fireworks going off around our neighborhood.  Our poor dog was so distressed.  The fireworks went on until at least three in the morning when somehow I finally fell asleep amidst the sounds of a Civil War battle surrounding our house.