Single What? Female...

Rolling with the good times...

5/3
We all know the motto of New Orleans: Laissez bon temps roulez! (let the good times roll!) And it is very hard not to live by that motto while in the Crescent City. Being poor/on a budget actually kept me out of real trouble, though not out of Jazz Fest.

Wednesday night was spent first settling into the hostel I was staying and then getting a bit of my bearings in the city. My friend Rachel, a native New Yorker now living in NOLA, started us off by having us meet at Lafayette Park for a food and music festival. Blues artist Marcia Ball was performing when we got there and serenaded us through sandwiches involving pulled pork (hers) and handmade sausage with the place's own mustard (mine). Just when I thought I was slipping back into decent eating habits, I hit New Orleans; though I suppose the New Orleans sense of "decent" and mine differ...and I happen to like their "decent" better...

After checking that scene out for a bit, we mosied by foot through the warehouse district and eventually to "the quarter". I have now seen Bourbon Street in its tacky, neon, tourist-geared glory...and somehow managed not to get a yard of Hurricane. The rest of the quarter is lovely and I could tell that should I have time to spend there, it would be a dangerous place full of small shops, galleries and antiques. And there does seem to be a constant hum of music throughout the place.

We later got dinner at a fine restaurant called August where we shared a tasting menu that included crawfish and other fab fare...the food is just ridiculously tasty there. And I had to remind myself, "wait! I'm here to get work done!" I actually got a little twitchy about it as it was becoming painfully obvious that it was going to be hard to do that here.

Thursday: JazzFest. This day had been planned as such as I had been told that besides all the amazing music (excuse me, was I drooling?), and food (gotta stop that), they do have tents dealing with the traditions and heritage of New Orleans. The city truly is it's own entity with history that precedes it's annexation into our nation, down to fairly laissez-faire race relations until slave revolts firmed up anti-miscegenation laws. I went to one of these tents that dealt with cultural traditions such as the parade and costume clubs. I met two ladies from the Ladies of Unity: "a social and pleasure club" that has been around for decades and mainly gets ladies together to do events and fundraising. They are one of the last groups in the city to hand make their own costumes with elaborately beaded sashes and brightly colored fans of ribbons and feathers. One lady, Elaine, had never been asked "What are you?" and also wouldn't think of asking it. The other lady had been asked a few times, did not necessarily find it rude, but did find it unecessary as most people are "something" here anyway. She knows that besides being black, she's "a little Chocktaw, a little white" and "it don't matter" as that's just the way it is.

Another woman I spoke to across the way at a table about the making of the floats for Mardi Gras said that she had been asked "What are you?" fairly often as, while French and Italian, she is often mistaken for Mexican or other Latina cultures. She feels that it is general curiousity and generally feels bad that she can't reply to the people who may just go right up and speak Spanish to her.

The last woman I spoke to creates Day of The Dead work (truly gorgeous and as I have a thing for skulls, some of my favorite art). She said she frequently has been asked "What are you?" from her home state of Virginia, to the Southwest, to New Orleans. And while working on Day of the Dead pieces, which many in New Orleans see more as VooDoo pieces...and she herself is often seen as Creole...she decided to explore her own culture more as she had never really gone into the depths of her own Mexican and South American background. She feels that making the Day of the Dead work is an expression of that exploration of her roots, herself and her art.

And then, it was back to the music...

Friday was spent with beignets, beads and a muffaletta sandwich as well as searching for a not so busy coffee shop in the quarter, but with NOLA being a tourist mecca AND having JazzFest in town, it was something close to impossible. And then there was more music to be seen...depsite the heat...and the intermittent rain...and with humidity that rivals a New York or Boston summer; it's the kind that makes you feel like you can never quite get dry or clean. It makes you see why things move a little slower in the south.

At the finish of Stevie Wonder, I did manage to pull a guy aside for an interview (and it turned out he also happens to play in a favorite band of mine called Topaz). Bob is from Texas and has occasionally been asked "the question", but doesn't think that much about it. His grandfather was adopted so there is some missing info as it is, but otherwise, he is "a Texas boy" and that is what he knows most and best.

Today, I am on the way to Atlanta for the final stop on the trip. It, again, boggles the mind that I have been traveling for a month and this journey is nearly over. As I got out my ticket for today, I saw that I only have one left from the pile of over twenty. Tomorrow I will use that last ticket to get back to my home and my husband and my own bed...and then get crackin' on putting all of these experiences together.

Peace --Alex

posted by funkweee @ 1:38 PM