Louisiana

Listening to: House of the Rising Sun

-The Animals

My boyfriend worries about me sometimes when I inform him that I want to die in New Orleans.

Honestly, think about it. What better city to die in? It's ethereal and somewhat gloomy, you basically have to be buried in a mausoleum if you're not a fan of having your casket float to the surface during floods, though mausoleums are damn expensive, but there is about a fifty percent chance you're going to be bitten by and turned into a vampire anyway...

I know, I know, enough silly generalizations about New Orleans. I truly love this city, it's my favorite American city in the South. My parents have driven Anna and I there repeatedly since we were ten for vacations, a few times before Katrina and a few times after. I don't want to make Katrina the central theme of this post, there is so much more to New Orleans than that, but it can't be ignored as far as its effect on New Orleans and the lower region of Louisiana. The one detail I recall from my visit about year after the hurricane in comparison to my visits before is that, literally, the city seemed more quiet. It was like there was a roar of parties and tourists and life going on as usual (as it should!) but underneath the roar there was a silence, kind of like a communal sigh that trails off when people have nothing left to say in a conversation. I wasn't there during Katrina, and I wasn't able to help rebuild New Orleans afterwards. I talk to so many people whose churches sent out mission trips there and watch movies and news clips and read books about the reconstruction, and if there is one thing in my life that I regret (I try not to have regrets) it's that I wasn't able to help. 

So now for the point in this last leg of the journey. Anna and I are meeting up with my parents, so we get another free couple of nights of sleep (they're paying for the hotel) and we are trying to think of different things to do in the city that we haven't experienced before. I immediately think of Lafayette Cemetery and a peek at Anne Rice's house. Though she is an obviously famous figure in New Orleans rather than just eccentric, I can't seem to stop focusing on her, just like I couldn't stop focusing on Colonel Sanders as my curious figure in Kentucky. I've read recent articles in which Rice dismisses the Catholic Church, or organized Christianity, partly because of the church's general stance against gay-marriage, which makes me think back to Solon Gregg's continual reference to "fags" in New Orleans in Wolf Whistle, and, more closely related to the point of the journey, I think of Amelia's attempts to commune with the town's religious and social customs that ultimately end up with her closing herself off from people completely. 

Not to say that this is Anne Rice's fate at all, I'm actually quite a fan of hers, but I find the parallels interesting. I'm a Christian myself and, honestly, very supportive of church and Christian community. However, I empathize with Rice's frustrations and wonder about the state of religion in the South. How long can some pastors continue preaching only about the reward of heaven and the punishment of hell with little or no application of Christian life on Earth? How long can the majority of churches continue to emphasize homosexuality as a damning quality before the fact that Christ died for everyone finally sinks in or causes them to lose members in droves? Can the mega-church really affect people specifically or, like the slow migration away from isolated communities and local cultures, will the church, and sadly, God, become concepts that people feel cannot be personal to them at all? 

But I digress. We will arrive in New Orleans hopefully around nine in the morning, it's only about three hours away from Canton. We are staying in the Provincial Hotel, so not too far outside of the French Quarter. In honor of our new-places ideal, I've nominated Cafe Fleur de Lis on Chartres St. in the French Quarter as our breakfast stop, mostly because they have chocolate chip pancakes that look ridiculously delicious. Chocolate chip pancakes and I go way back. We have a tumultuous and steamy love affair. My boyfriend should probably be jealous. 

After breakfast we'll hop on a trolley and ride to the Garden District, where we will begin our search for Anne Rice's house. I'm sure I've passed right by it a thousand times before, it's actually not as distinct as one would imagine, at least not from the outside. I wish I could get inside and look around, better yet have a chat with her about life and vampires and books and whatnot, but alas, I am not of the means to do so.

 After that we will do some shopping (New Orleans has a collection of vintage clothing stores that cannot be ignored) and I, and whoever so desires to accompany me, will trek out to Lafayette Cemetary. I'll admit, I'm just too damn chicken to try and go there at night, even on a tour, but maybe during the day it well be less...creepy? Perhaps it will just be peaceful and in a melancholy way, pretty. (This is said with doubtful optimism).

 If we make it out alive (puns and lame jokes totally intended) we will hop back on the trolley and head to Mother's for dinner.  Last time I was at Mother's the BP Oil Spill was still wreaking major havoc (though I think it still is to an extent) and soft-shell crabs weren't available, hence fried crab po'boys weren't available. Those were sad days, hopefully this time I can redeem them. After dinner we will head towards the French Quarter for dessert at coffee...where else? Cafe du Monde. Granted, it's crowded there and I've heard that there are better beignets to be found in New Orleans, but this is one of those rare situations where tradition wins out over quality of product.