Wonderful & weird New Orleans
I had
a weird and wonderful trip to New Orleans. I went to visit a friend I studied healing with in l997. This was the first time we had seen one another during all of these years.
My friend’s name is Carla. Soft spoken, pretty, 55 year old woman who left New Orleans when she was l7 and came back the year before Katrina. She received a calling to go back to New Orleans, and it was as though she was being called back to hell as she puts it. But I don’t think I am going to write anymore about Carla. I want to write about my experiences in New Orleans.
My trip was weird and wonderful at the same time. On the flight down I was sitting between 2 young women, each one drinking and eating and trying to escape their pain and suffering. I am sitting in the middle of both of them picking up their energy of such unhappiness, almost saying “I am so unhappy. Someone help me find happiness. It was an awful feeling to experience and there I was like an anchor sitting between the both of them. We all exchanged numbers as though we would see one another down there, but I knew I would never see these 2 women again, and I didn’t want to see them again. They were so desperately seeking happiness on the outside and i nor anyone could never furnish that for them.
People I met down there thought I lived in New Orleans. They just took it for granted and just said to me “you come from New Orleans.” I said “no, I don’t” but they never bothered to ask me where I came from. Now, the reason they thought I was from New Orleans perhaps is that I have bright red hair, dress very unconventionally, stand 5ft 9inches tall, have a flair for the dramatic, I’m artistic, love good food and good music and love, love, love to have a good time.
There was the French Quarter music festival going on when I was there, so I heard free and wonderful music everywhere and ate some great food. The sensuality and aliveness I expected to feel in New Orleans only came through for me when I was around music or the food. Most of the time different tourists would want to talk to me and I would again get this feeling of “please make me happy, my life is so unahppy and I want you to make me happy.” Yuck, it was a turnoff and I didn’t say too much to people who wanted to speak to me. I felt I needed to protect myself from their negative energy. Many were drawn to me. Probably drawn to my joy and positive energy and they wanted it so bad, but I wasn’t selling or buying it. I needed to keep myself safe.
I loved the weather, the sultriness, the architecture, the food and the music, but something was missing. Somehow the people were missing. They weren’t showing up. Many tourists seem to be scared, hidden, and walking around in fear. Yuck, it felt awful. I had wanted to go to New Orleans for many years and I realized this trip was a pilgrimage. I wanted to pay my respects to the city, the people and how they have been screwed over by so many. I actually was paying my respects to all of the peoples throughout the world that have been screwed over by injustice.
New Orleans is a symbol of joy with its music and food, but somehow the pain and suffering that has been inflicted on the city and its people for so many years has gotten in the way. Maybe it’s symbolic of so many poeples lives. I felt it must be like this when people travel to Vegas. They are coming to New Orleans to be happy, they are coming to Vegas to be happy, because they feel it ‘s being happy on the outside that counts.
Tourists would come up to me and want to chat and I would cringe, because I could feel them just wanting to be happy. One guy was commenting on my sparkly nailpolish on my toes, and when I looked up at him I realized he was totally drunk. I got away from him by going directly over to the musicians that were playing while he was trying to be friendly to me. Another time I was in a cafe in the french quarter waiting for my friend to bring me some coffee, listening to music, feeling the sultriness of the weather, when these 2 older guys walked towards me and I am saying to myself please God, don’t let them sit near me, and guess what they sat next to me. They both had these big cameras and I could tell one of them wanted to take a photo of me but didn’t have the balls to ask me because he knew I would say no. They told me they came from Mississippi and they asked me if I came from New Orleans. I told them no and that was the end of that. I looked over at one of the guys just when he was about to take my photo and he put the camera down because he was so embarassed that I saw what he was doing. Yuck.
It was great sitting out by the Mississippi, 85 degrees, sun shining, listening to great music and having lavender and honey homemade ice cream. That was a tasty treat.
The last time I was down south was when I was in college and I had dealt with so much anti-semitism. I again could feel that same feeling under the surface. People were polite but the same kind of feeling I got that i looked different. I don’t know what they would have said if they knew I was Jewish. It was funny because I didn’t see too many blacks in New Orleans. I don’t know why or whether a lot of them left after Katrina. The 9th ward was hit very hard and it still looked depressing when my friend and I drove around, but I didn’t want to take any photos there at all. I just wanted to look and keep the memory without the photos. Didn’t want to take advantage of a place that had already been taken advantage of so many times.
Would I go back to New Orleans? You bet I would! Mainly to see my friend. She showed me so much love and kindness while I was there and I know our connection is forever no matter how little or how much we see one another. We have many things in common and one of them is being colorblind.
This entry was posted on Saturday, April 16th, 2011 at 11:50 am and is filed under Industry News. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
October 5th, 2011 at 8:56 am
I’m sorry your visit to my city felt so “Yucky”. Socializing with imperfect people is a skill worth acquiring.
October 5th, 2011 at 9:34 am
I don’t think it has to do with my skill with imperfect people, it has to do with me being honest with my imperfections in the story. I have had a painful history with anti-semitism in the south and I had just had a bad breakup. I think that would effect wherever I would travel.
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