New Orleans: hope and devastation
As I indicated in my prior post, you can still go to New Orleans and have a good time in the French Quarter.
That's the good news.
On the day of New Year's eve, we took a walk out of the French Quarter and headed out towards the Garden District. As we moved uptown, damage that was obscurred the previous evening became apparent. Refrigerators are still on curbs. Some buildings had completely collapsed. There were generally two types of people that we came across in the neighborhoods around lower Magazine street: Latino day laborers and New Orleans residents who wore understandably exasperated expressions on their faces.
By the time we had passed uptown out of the Garden District, the scene seemed to be lighter. There was a large crowd of people enjoying lunch outside at The Bulldog. We ran into another couple on their way, like us, to Casamento's (which, unfortunately, had closed early).
Heading lakeside towards St. Charles Avenue along Napolean, you could feel hopeful for the city's prospects. As we headed back downtown, it was reassuring to see that the majestic Oak trees lining St. Charles Avenue still stood; battered and certainly worse for the storm but like those parts of the city we had seen so far, still there.
The St. Charles Street car still has not returned to service so, after walking a little further, we were lucky enough to catch a cab back down to the Quarter. Our cabbie told us that what we were seeing was merely the surface of the city; the face of the city that tourists were accustomed to seeing. According to her, apart from Uptown, the Warehouse District and the Quarter, the rest of the city was absolutely devastated and uninhabitable. We would see.
later in the afternoon, while eating oysters at the Red Fish Grill, we had commented upon the massive police presence we had seen in the Quarter to the bartender. He explained that there simply wasn't enough 'business' for the police in the rest of the city because those parts had been deserted. So, the police were concentrated where people still were. He further mentioned that when he had called the police when he saw a stranger attempt to enter the other home in his duplex, nine squad cars showed up.
Later that night, trying to get out of the French Quarter to celebrate New Year's eve and the night we met in New Orleans, we found the police had sealed off the streets leading to the Quarter. One cabbie we stopped demanded a minimum of $25 to take us Uptown to Upperline. We had been told that cabs would be plentiful by a variety of people because this night would be the cabbies best chance to make up some of the money they had lost but we found cabs to be fairly rare as we had originally expected. Returning to the Quarter by midnight, we observed that Bourbon was lively, but not nearly thronging with crowds as on previous New Years' eves.
On Sunday, New Year's Day, we went to brunch with a friend of ours who still lives in New Orleans. He proposed to take us out to Arabi and Chalmette before we left for home so that we could see what 'the rest of the city' looked like. In less than ten minutes we were presented with such a disparate contrast that I simply cannot describe how wrenching the experience was.
From an elegant brunch in a largely intact neighborhood, we went across the Industrial Canal to see block after block and house after house destroyed. Whereas the Oaks of uptown still stood, in The Parish we saw massive Oak tree trunks five feet in diameter lying upon their sides. Each building bore the same markings: several horizontal black-grey lines indicating how high the floodwaters reached and then, slowly receded and spraypainted X's indicating when buildings had been searched and what had been found. To see, DOA spraypainted on some homes was chilling. As we started to return to the City, we drove into a recently built neighborhood to see the home of a friend of our friend's. Each home in the neighborhood was similarly devastated. Windows were all knocked out. The grass everywhere was dead. And, in front of each home, it seeemed that the entire contents of each home's interior, furniture, sheetrock, carpets, were piled high.
We were all subdued on the ride home. I don't know how or even if those areas we saw across the Canal will ever be rebuilt.
Further reading:
The Chicago Tribune's Barbara Brotman writes of her own sojourn through the City.
To get a sense of the depopulation of the city, check out this map.
For more on the cleanup effort, read this story
That's the good news.
On the day of New Year's eve, we took a walk out of the French Quarter and headed out towards the Garden District. As we moved uptown, damage that was obscurred the previous evening became apparent. Refrigerators are still on curbs. Some buildings had completely collapsed. There were generally two types of people that we came across in the neighborhoods around lower Magazine street: Latino day laborers and New Orleans residents who wore understandably exasperated expressions on their faces.
By the time we had passed uptown out of the Garden District, the scene seemed to be lighter. There was a large crowd of people enjoying lunch outside at The Bulldog. We ran into another couple on their way, like us, to Casamento's (which, unfortunately, had closed early).
Heading lakeside towards St. Charles Avenue along Napolean, you could feel hopeful for the city's prospects. As we headed back downtown, it was reassuring to see that the majestic Oak trees lining St. Charles Avenue still stood; battered and certainly worse for the storm but like those parts of the city we had seen so far, still there.
The St. Charles Street car still has not returned to service so, after walking a little further, we were lucky enough to catch a cab back down to the Quarter. Our cabbie told us that what we were seeing was merely the surface of the city; the face of the city that tourists were accustomed to seeing. According to her, apart from Uptown, the Warehouse District and the Quarter, the rest of the city was absolutely devastated and uninhabitable. We would see.
later in the afternoon, while eating oysters at the Red Fish Grill, we had commented upon the massive police presence we had seen in the Quarter to the bartender. He explained that there simply wasn't enough 'business' for the police in the rest of the city because those parts had been deserted. So, the police were concentrated where people still were. He further mentioned that when he had called the police when he saw a stranger attempt to enter the other home in his duplex, nine squad cars showed up.
Later that night, trying to get out of the French Quarter to celebrate New Year's eve and the night we met in New Orleans, we found the police had sealed off the streets leading to the Quarter. One cabbie we stopped demanded a minimum of $25 to take us Uptown to Upperline. We had been told that cabs would be plentiful by a variety of people because this night would be the cabbies best chance to make up some of the money they had lost but we found cabs to be fairly rare as we had originally expected. Returning to the Quarter by midnight, we observed that Bourbon was lively, but not nearly thronging with crowds as on previous New Years' eves.
On Sunday, New Year's Day, we went to brunch with a friend of ours who still lives in New Orleans. He proposed to take us out to Arabi and Chalmette before we left for home so that we could see what 'the rest of the city' looked like. In less than ten minutes we were presented with such a disparate contrast that I simply cannot describe how wrenching the experience was.
From an elegant brunch in a largely intact neighborhood, we went across the Industrial Canal to see block after block and house after house destroyed. Whereas the Oaks of uptown still stood, in The Parish we saw massive Oak tree trunks five feet in diameter lying upon their sides. Each building bore the same markings: several horizontal black-grey lines indicating how high the floodwaters reached and then, slowly receded and spraypainted X's indicating when buildings had been searched and what had been found. To see, DOA spraypainted on some homes was chilling. As we started to return to the City, we drove into a recently built neighborhood to see the home of a friend of our friend's. Each home in the neighborhood was similarly devastated. Windows were all knocked out. The grass everywhere was dead. And, in front of each home, it seeemed that the entire contents of each home's interior, furniture, sheetrock, carpets, were piled high.
We were all subdued on the ride home. I don't know how or even if those areas we saw across the Canal will ever be rebuilt.
Further reading:
The Chicago Tribune's Barbara Brotman writes of her own sojourn through the City.
To get a sense of the depopulation of the city, check out this map.
For more on the cleanup effort, read this story
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