I Am New Orleans

Its initials may spell “NO” but its attitude continues to be undeniably “YES.”

I just returned from my second trip to New Orleans in six months and I continue to be impressed with the city’s resilient spirit.

My first visit to the Big Easy was in 2001. My impressions could be summed up with one word: Daaaammmn.

Strolling along Bourbon Street at night, I was hypnotized by the rhapsodic music that emanated from every open door. My eyes darted back and forth as blissfully drunk pedestrians stumbled in serpentine fashion and women everywhere lifted up their shirts in an unprecedented display of spontaneous public nudity (prompted only by the enticement of cheap and colorful plastic beads, no less).

I had simply assumed that New Orleans was only that wild and crazy during Mardi Gras, but clearly, partying is a full-time, year-round profession for those carefree Creoles.

Of course, when I went there in 2001, the streets were much more crowded than they were in 2008 and 2009. However, the numbers seem to be climbing back up again.

It's really amazing how much the community has bounced back from Hurricane Katrina. That is probably the reason why it disheartens me so whenever I engage in conversations with various people who think they are experts on the current state of New Orleans even though they haven't even visited there recently.

People are under the false impression that cut-throat murderers lurk everywhere, attacking innocent pedestrians on the street without rhyme or reason. Or, they are convinced the city smells like rotting corpses and all the tourist attractions are closed up and abandoned.

Sure, and the cotton candy clouds have soaked up the Mississippi like giant fluffy pink sponges from beyond our solar system.

I understand that when Katrina steamrolled through New Orleans, there was unspeakable devastation and catastrophic casualties. The death toll reached over 1,400 people and the city’s population was vastly reduced immediately after the disaster. But, it is almost four years later and the Crescent City is as indomitable as it is inspirational.

There are more restaurants in the French Quarter than ever, and they actually wash the streets in the region every day. The locals are overtly hospitable and friendly, as well, as if they are desperately trying to make up for the fallen city image that people seem to doggedly fixate on.

Of course, other areas of the city (which were directly hit) are still recovering and it will take many more years to come. When I recently engaged in a tour past neighborhoods in the Lower 9th Ward, I observed the city at its best and worst simultaneously.

The old destroyed houses evoke an air of despair as soon as you spot them. Many of them are still adorned with the spray-painted symbols on the front where rescue workers in small boats arrived and learned instantly if/when the home had been searched, how many survivors and casualties were recorded, and other details such as if leaking pipes and dead pets were discovered.

Yet, many who still live there refuse to remove the painted information. Instead, it serves as a personal memorial. It's a stark reminder, but also a genuine gesture of respect.

The Lower 9th Ward is particularly interesting because you can see a few of the newly-built Make It Right Foundation houses which are much stronger, safer and more storm-resistant than their historical counterparts. The new additions are also quite ecologically friendly and brightly-colored causing them to stand out completely in the area.

Seeing the old and the new buildings juxtaposed makes you realize how much potential humanity has to overcome the impossible from time to time.

Also in the neighborhood lies an interesting memorial (see picture below) constructed to honor those who lost their lives in the tragedy. They are represented by the empty red chairs. The blue poles denote the different levels of the flood waters during the storm. As for the partially-constructed house, it is a physical representation of the city's ongoing rebuilding efforts.

The message in the window of the incomplete house simply reads: "I AM COMING HOME. I WILL REBUILD. I AM NEW ORLEANS."