A man throws up while walking this afternoon in the French Quarter. He didn't miss a step, just let it out and he was on his way. What resilience.
Hotel and restaurant workers (Caribbean, Latin American, African American) sit or stand outside on the streets, taking a cigarette break, waiting for the bus, stealing a nap.
A big Starbuck's convention is in town now. Thousands of people roaming the streets with their badges and swag - enviably cool black canvas tote bags with silver metal water bottles for all.
A man at the Faulkner House Book Store talks to the owner about buying an early edition of Go Down, Moses for more than the price of a modest home.
I'm reading a book now called Sickness and Wealth: The Corporate Assault on Global Health. The book explains that the worst health problems exist in countries where wealth disparities are greatest. The globalization of corporatism (i.e. greed) and the social and economic policies that condone it opens the door for more and more "free" markets for people to get richer. (As my husband says, how about a maximum wage?) And the poor provide the back-breaking, mind-numbing labor in the context of the same social and economic policies that actively reduce important supports (e.g. health care and social services).
This disparity seems so apparent in New Orleans. I guess that's why I've always felt so radicalized/awakend here; and thus uncomfortable and disturbed. Not much is different after Katrina. We thought it could be; a few new good policies and initiatives, a few not so good. But, the subtext is completely the same.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
New Orleans - A Flood of Memories
Back in NOLA for the first time since moving from here; it's been about 5 months. This is one of the most beautiful times of year. Highs in the mid and upper 70s and lows in the mid-50s. I've been wondering what I would feel coming back here. Impressions are triggering a complicated flood of memories (no pun intended) - like the joys of Abita Restoration Ale and the agonies of Friday afternoon traffic on I-10.
Affected by the slight time change and a bit too much to drink last night, I was awake at 5:30 a.m. Feeling the oppression of staying in a downtown hotel and the inevitably bad air quality of such places, I walked outside for some fresh air. I looked toward the Mississippi river; the sunrise, with smatterings of pinks and oranges, was complemented by just a sliver of a fading moon. This meal of the senses was rounded out by the smell of alcohol in the street. All of this taking place through the twin realities of people making their way home after a long night out on the town and those workers that have to go in on a Saturday morning.
The Japanese have a term called wabi-sabi, which means something like the beauty that emanates from the run-down and worn-out. Indeed, this precisely describes New Orleans.
This weekend is the Voodoo Festival, a music festival of big-name alternative and New Orleans bands. I probably won't make it there, but it does remind me of when I was able to go 3 years ago, right after the flood. The tickets were free for everyone that year and it had been relocated from City Park, which had experienced massive flooding, to the riverfront park uptown. It was the first time I really got what New Orleans was about, having an actual experience of spiritual transcendence at a Kermit Ruffins performance. It was more than the music; I could never have felt it listening to a CD at home. It can only happen within a community of people. I would have other such experiences in New Orleans.
But, it's not just NOLA, of course. The beauty of people coming together to hear music and celebrate is global. A Grateful Dead concert in Mountain View, California, a Phish concert in Koblenz, Germany, a jam band in a Kansas tavern - these have been defining moments, of what's really meaningful to me in this life. The experience is mysterious, powerful and seems important. It's an ego release that throws off the shackles of this life's Race (see below).
Affected by the slight time change and a bit too much to drink last night, I was awake at 5:30 a.m. Feeling the oppression of staying in a downtown hotel and the inevitably bad air quality of such places, I walked outside for some fresh air. I looked toward the Mississippi river; the sunrise, with smatterings of pinks and oranges, was complemented by just a sliver of a fading moon. This meal of the senses was rounded out by the smell of alcohol in the street. All of this taking place through the twin realities of people making their way home after a long night out on the town and those workers that have to go in on a Saturday morning.
The Japanese have a term called wabi-sabi, which means something like the beauty that emanates from the run-down and worn-out. Indeed, this precisely describes New Orleans.
This weekend is the Voodoo Festival, a music festival of big-name alternative and New Orleans bands. I probably won't make it there, but it does remind me of when I was able to go 3 years ago, right after the flood. The tickets were free for everyone that year and it had been relocated from City Park, which had experienced massive flooding, to the riverfront park uptown. It was the first time I really got what New Orleans was about, having an actual experience of spiritual transcendence at a Kermit Ruffins performance. It was more than the music; I could never have felt it listening to a CD at home. It can only happen within a community of people. I would have other such experiences in New Orleans.
But, it's not just NOLA, of course. The beauty of people coming together to hear music and celebrate is global. A Grateful Dead concert in Mountain View, California, a Phish concert in Koblenz, Germany, a jam band in a Kansas tavern - these have been defining moments, of what's really meaningful to me in this life. The experience is mysterious, powerful and seems important. It's an ego release that throws off the shackles of this life's Race (see below).
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