To see beauty...
...one must also see the filth. New Orleans is a beautiful town filled with amazingly warm and welcoming people, beautiful architecture, food beyond compare and the music, oh the music! It is beauty to the ears. To see the beauty, there must be something to compare it to.
This morning, as I wandered the quarter looking for a cup of coffee and a pastry I marveled at the brilliant blue sky, the sounds of the mule drawn carriages and the gentle breeze that greeted me at every intersection. As I approached the corner of Royal and Ursulines I saw a man sleeping on a doorstep. Sleeping was not the proper descriptive. He was passed out on his side, lying in his own vomit. He was moving - I felt no need to intervene.
This city is one that thrives on over indulgences. They drink with gusto, play music with every inch of their soul and consume more butter in a week than some will in a lifetime. This is a town where people work to live - and live they do! A twitter friend of mine is a recent transplant to this fine city. He embraces this city, all of its culture and the lifestyle of "let the good times roll". I have seen him tweet that his life expectancy may be less here, but his living will be great.
I spent the past year pining for this city. I dreamed of moving here, trying as hard as I could to make it so. It is still something I would love to do, but I am not sure it would be wise. I too would embrace this city, it's people, it's culture to the fullest. I would roll in it, soak it up, envelope myself with its loving kindness and excessiveness. A delightful yet frightening prospect.
At this moment I sit in a cafe window, drinking a cafe Au lait, watching the quarter come to life. Another patron stated he called 911 for the vomit encrusted human doorstep and I have yet to hear lights and sirens.
A man just walked up with his dog, attached the leash to a newspaper box so he could come inside and get his morning repass. I love that people take their dogs with them everywhere in the quarter. Many places will allow the dog inside. Most have a bowl of water or a bowl of dog treats available for the 4 legged travelers of the quarter. Most people clean up after their pets, but some do not. Wandering the quarter and dodging doggie bombs is one of the downsides. But again, to see the beauty there must be something to compare it to. The dog owner, an elderly gentleman, just fetched his canine friend and I note that this dog is as old as his owner... They walk by the window I sit in and I swear, both of them smiled.
Read the news and you will understand the crime. There are many black on black shootings, petty thefts perpetrated on tourists (my iPhone always stays tucked away while walking the streets) and the other crime you will find in any major city. The black in black crime is the most startling - young black men shooting other young black men. And then, the flip side, young black men with instruments organizing, encouraging one another, and playing their hearts out on instruments that are dinged and no longer shiny but that make the most delightful noises in their skilled hands. How can this same demographic be killing one another when they can create such a magical sound?
The Pollyanna in me sees the beauty of this city. It is what I choose to embrace, yet I am not blind to the sadness, the depravity, the filth. When I leave the quarter on Tuesday and return to my quiet life of Detroit suburbia, I will remember the mule hoof beats, the brass band on the corner of Frenchman and Chartres, the sunny skies and the friendly people. My mumma dear always called me her lemonade girl and I shall continue on that path.
This morning, as I wandered the quarter looking for a cup of coffee and a pastry I marveled at the brilliant blue sky, the sounds of the mule drawn carriages and the gentle breeze that greeted me at every intersection. As I approached the corner of Royal and Ursulines I saw a man sleeping on a doorstep. Sleeping was not the proper descriptive. He was passed out on his side, lying in his own vomit. He was moving - I felt no need to intervene.
This city is one that thrives on over indulgences. They drink with gusto, play music with every inch of their soul and consume more butter in a week than some will in a lifetime. This is a town where people work to live - and live they do! A twitter friend of mine is a recent transplant to this fine city. He embraces this city, all of its culture and the lifestyle of "let the good times roll". I have seen him tweet that his life expectancy may be less here, but his living will be great.
I spent the past year pining for this city. I dreamed of moving here, trying as hard as I could to make it so. It is still something I would love to do, but I am not sure it would be wise. I too would embrace this city, it's people, it's culture to the fullest. I would roll in it, soak it up, envelope myself with its loving kindness and excessiveness. A delightful yet frightening prospect.
At this moment I sit in a cafe window, drinking a cafe Au lait, watching the quarter come to life. Another patron stated he called 911 for the vomit encrusted human doorstep and I have yet to hear lights and sirens.
A man just walked up with his dog, attached the leash to a newspaper box so he could come inside and get his morning repass. I love that people take their dogs with them everywhere in the quarter. Many places will allow the dog inside. Most have a bowl of water or a bowl of dog treats available for the 4 legged travelers of the quarter. Most people clean up after their pets, but some do not. Wandering the quarter and dodging doggie bombs is one of the downsides. But again, to see the beauty there must be something to compare it to. The dog owner, an elderly gentleman, just fetched his canine friend and I note that this dog is as old as his owner... They walk by the window I sit in and I swear, both of them smiled.
Read the news and you will understand the crime. There are many black on black shootings, petty thefts perpetrated on tourists (my iPhone always stays tucked away while walking the streets) and the other crime you will find in any major city. The black in black crime is the most startling - young black men shooting other young black men. And then, the flip side, young black men with instruments organizing, encouraging one another, and playing their hearts out on instruments that are dinged and no longer shiny but that make the most delightful noises in their skilled hands. How can this same demographic be killing one another when they can create such a magical sound?
The Pollyanna in me sees the beauty of this city. It is what I choose to embrace, yet I am not blind to the sadness, the depravity, the filth. When I leave the quarter on Tuesday and return to my quiet life of Detroit suburbia, I will remember the mule hoof beats, the brass band on the corner of Frenchman and Chartres, the sunny skies and the friendly people. My mumma dear always called me her lemonade girl and I shall continue on that path.
posted by Angela | 09:38
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