A Place to Hang My Hat

Ah, the pleasure of a quiet Sunday morning with coffee. I've managed to catch up on all my email, peruse all the blogs I like to frequent and prepare for a productive evening at work.

Since my last post, I've had the great fortune of finding a charming apartment. Deposit has been paid, and I can begin moving in next week. I will be living in the Treme, just around the corner from Peaches on Esplanade Avenue--close enough to walk down in my housedress to borrow a cup of sugar, or to stumble home after a night of music and revelry. The place has everything I was looking for--gated access to keep out the crazies, a porch of my own, onsite laundry and a gorgeous courtyard to enjoy. The space is a one bedroom that was originally the dining room of a very grand 19th century structure, and features the shuttered windows and high ceilings that embody New Orleans architecture. I'm excited to finally occupy a space of my own. For the past 2-3 years I've essentially lived out of a suitcase, so it's nice to know I can finally settle in one location for a while. There's plenty of room to accommodate guests, so once I get some furniture, all are welcome to visit. Did I mention there's a pool?

As a followup to my last post, I also had the privilege of talking with Irma Thomas on Friday, who was at the hotel to participate in a live radio broadcast that was used to promote the show she performed last night. I thought it was a kick to actually thank an artist for a wonderful concert, and she was very gracious and down to earth. Now I can say that I've met a Grammy winner.

Not much else to report today. Enjoy your Sunday!

Sunday in the Park with Irma

I suppose Mother Nature must read my blog because after last week's rant on the never-ending heat and humidity in New Orleans, we were treated to a break in the weather over the weekend. The rain finally stopped, the temperatures plummeted about 25 degrees, and it actually feels like autumn now. The windows have been flung open, and everyone's been digging out pants and long-sleeved shirts to venture outside.

I finally had a day off on Sunday after a laborious stint at the hotel, and was delighted to see the abundance of festivals and activities taking place in the City to enjoy. I settled on an afternoon in Lafayette Square to partake in the Crescent City Blues and Barbecue Festival. This is one of many festivals sponsored by the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival and Foundation, and it was truly a delightful afternoon. The festival featured barbecue by several local restaurants, arts and crafts vendors and two stages for musical performances by a host of local favorites. I saw Tribe 13 (fronted by Cyril Neville), Sonny Landreth, T-Model Ford and Irma Thomas. All of the acts were good, but Irma Thomas was absolutely fantastic--of course when your moniker is the Soul Queen of New Orleans how could you be anything less? I got to spend some time with my friends Zak and Angelique and everyone in the park was in a very festive mood since the Saints kicked the Giants' ass at the Superdome during the festival (not that I care a lot about football, but apparently the local team is having a great season so far).

So all in all, a perfect Sunday afternoon. This was definitely an event that strengthened my affection for New Orleans--I'm still not in love with the city, but charming events like the festival add to my growing warmth for the place I currently call home.

Steamy Days on the Delta

Ah, the pleasure of a dinner shift! After a couple of weeks of early morning obligations with work, I'm finally schedule for an evening shift, and have been enjoying a morning of coffee and contemplation while catching up on unread email and other communications. Those of you who know me personally know that I am not a morning person, and successive days of rising at 4:15 in the morning to make it to work have taken a toll. In a city like New Orleans, it's very difficult to enjoy the revelry and decadence when you have to rise before the sun comes up...

So we're in the middle of October, and it is still hot and sticky in the Crescent City. I am accustomed to the humidity of Florida, which arrives unannounced one day in April and departs just as quickly sometime around late September. We have had an inordinate amount of rain in the past few days, and the heat does not want to dissipate, making any outdoor activity a sticky, sweaty affair. While we were treated to a couple of autumnal days a couple of weeks ago, the forecast calls for more rain and hot temperatures for the rest of the week.

As I mentioned in my last post, I attended my 20th high school reunion this past weekend in North Carolina. The trip was a surgical strike that provided me with the appropriate amount of time to spend with my family and to see how the people I grew up have fared since I left the state in 1989. Overall the reunion was a pleasant experience--no huge revelations or shenanigans. More than half of the class attended (about 80 out of 135 graduates) and I learned that about a dozen of us left the state in our adult lives. In fact, most of the alumni continue to reside in and around Clayton, which is a testament to the hold small town living has for some many people. I did not win any of the awards that were presented, so I'm not the one who's changed the most or the least, lives the farthest away or had the most children--only in Johnston County can someone get a certificate for their ability to breed...

Hope that everyone is enjoying October, and preparing for a festive Halloween. My gracious host and I decided to set out as the Beals of Grey Gardens this year, but it appears that both of us will be working Halloween night, so I will probably just go out to see what the masses present for costumes. It's not like the citizens here need an official day to get dressed up and take to the streets, but my understanding is that Halloween is another big party in the land that lives for Laissez les bons temps rouler.

Sunday's Second Line

While I'm a bit weary from another run of early morning restaurant shifts (which I've been told end this week), I felt compelled to post about a sight I witnessed yesterday afternoon--a Second Line that paraded by the house.

I had just arrived home from work yesterday afternoon and watched Brandon leave for his shift at Fins when my phone rang. "There's a huge Second Line coming up North Rampart, and they're turning up Esplanade. You should be able to see it from the front door". No sooner had I opened the door and stepped out on the stoop, there it was--a glorious, six minute parade of about 300 people, complete with a shoe-shaped float containing matrons waving to the crowd assembled on the neutral ground (the divide between opposing flows of traffic)and the banquettes (sidewalks here in New Orleans), a brass band, and a sea of dancers and steppers marching along. I have no idea what they were representing, but that's never the point. Second Lines are a common occurence here.

New Orleans is a city built on a colorful history that is represented by an overwhelming number of festivals, displays, costumes and parades. I've quickly learned in my short time here that any excuse will do for people to don costumes and take to the streets. The Second Lines appear frequently. The origin of the Second Line, as I understand it, was to celebrate the life of a recently deceased after the burial had taken place. Those Second Lines still occur here, but the parades now mark any occasion--I witnessed a Second Line for a local church go by the door at 10am on a Sunday morning in August. Many locals will have a second line as part of their wedding, and we even had one run through the hotel a couple of weeks ago that had all of the restaurant patrons up out of their chairs, waving and twirling their napkins as the parade passed through the lobby.

The spirit of the Second Line is infectious, and you'll see people move from watching along the periphery to the middle of the moving throng, waving handkerchiefs or parasols as they step and undulate to the music. It's a wonderful mix of people--race and social status don't seem to matter; as long as you're moving and keeping with the music they'll let you in. I've never witnessed anything like it anywhere else I've lived, and I think it's a wonderful practice that makes New Orleans such a unique place in the world.

We'll talk about yats and accents another day...

Taking a MacBook for a drive

Greetings, gentle readers!

We've crawled into the final quarter of 2009, and I realized with regret this morning that it has been several weeks since my last post. Crazy work schedules and sheer laziness have contributed to my absence from the blogosphere, but I'm committing to once again become a more frequent poster.

And today, I'm writing from Peaches' new laptop, a MacBook he got from a friend for a song. My first computer experiences back in school were with the McIntosh that really brought Apple into the forefront of computing, back when Microsoft was still tweaking DOS. I've always admired the simplicity of Apple's systems, but find the cost of their equipment beyond my budget. Having twirled around on this computer for a couple of hours, though, I may have to save some pennies and bite the bullet once my wonderful Gateway laptop finally dies.

So no huge updates to report. I've begun looking at apartments, trying to determine where I want to hang my hat in the Crescent City. I am also preparing for a return to North Carolina next week for my 20th high school reunion. I'm a bit ambivalent about seeing all of these people from my past, but it will be nice to spend some time with the family and see almost of the Gouger clan (practically my second family growing up).

The sun is finally trying to peak through the clouds, and I'm determined to take advantage of the day as my next day off is next Thursday.