Unfortunately, I don’t have any photos of the gators since my phone had died before we made it to Insta-gator. This event wasn’t something I would have thought to plan for myself, but I was so glad to have the chance to go! It was really interesting to learn about alligators and petting one was pretty cool too. After deciding to go home earlier than I had planned Tuesday night, I tried to enjoy my last night. I ate at Maspero’s and had the veggie muffaletta I had been craving for months. On the way back, I finally had a tarot card reading in Jackson square. I had wanted to do this for awhile, so I was happy to finally have the opportunity.
Author: hinshaw.24
Enduring the Haunting
New Orleans is full of electric energy, and if you’re aware of it, once you catch it, you can’t let go. The depths of exploration in this city are vast, intense, haunting. And New Orleans haunts me, a little every day, lulling and luring me in with something that sometimes I can’t quite figure out, but it is enduring. My third visit has proven that. Nothing ever goes perfectly here, (of course nothing goes perfectly anywhere) but this fact in New Orleans is in your face; every visit here has demonstrated the human condition to me in such a raw and intense way. And each time, I’ve stepped away with a new outlook, gaining just one (or more) insights that add richness and depth (and sometimes pain) to my life. But of course they say: “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” — and I would add to that — but it helps to have 9 lives in New Orleans.
Odd Fellows Rest
On Monday the 10th I visited Odd Fellows Rest. It was still closed off, overgrown, and beautiful as ever, still slowly and gradually growing in disrepair. Part of the gate’s symbolic figures that had been there last May had been broken off. I was glad I had documentation of those in their previous existence.
A section of the fence here leading to Odd Fellows Rest was easily accessible from the cemetery next door. It would have been easy to climb to the other side…
Odd Fellows Rest sits isolated and surrounded by a dense brick wall in the midst of the surrounding cemeteries.
I met with an anthropologist at the University of New Orleans before I visited the cemeteries on Canal Street. Dr. Gray’s main project is the Holt cemetery, and he also conducts a field school every summer in Storyville. Part of his work in Storyville is to take the bones from the graves here and transport them to another cemetery. I was moved by his passion for his work, and even more so when he mentioned that a ceremony was planned for these bones as they moved from their first final resting place to their second. He also spoke of the fact that not all graveyards in New Orleans are above-ground, for example, the Storyville graveyard and the Charity Hospital Cemetery.
The Charity Hospital Cemetery is now a memorial for the unclaimed victims of Hurricane Katrina. I was curious about this as I finished up reading the book Nine Lives (http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/nine-lives-dan-baum/1013475320?ean=9780385523202) and Frank Minyard was spoke of in the book as wanting to have a memorial here. Sure enough, his name was on one of the mirror-like marble slabs.
Although easy to explain with the bright sun and shadows cast that day, this photo has an eerie quality to it. To me, this photo is symbolic of the unclaimed victims of Katrina, of Odd Fellows Rest, of these forgotten individuals and places that are saturated with stories and secrets that sit, quietly, waiting to speak.
Accents and Envie
The next day was Sunday the 9th. It was gorgeous out. I went to one of my favorite places in the French Quarter — Envie. Envie is probably one of the coolest coffee shops ever and when I order they call me “baby” pretty much every time. And the baristas who call me that always have that New Orleans accent — which is kind of like a New York accent mixed with a little bit of southern accent, mixed with a type of drawl that only long-time residents or natives of the city of “nawlins” have. I sat for a few hours and ate a delicious scone and sipped an americano with rich espresso.
Possibilities
I was so glad to be back in New Orleans and excited for what my upcoming week held. The weather felt amazing, and the first evening there, I was excited to walk around as much as possible after being in the plane all day. We ate at Buffa’s for dinner and then walked all around the French Quarter and as far down as the river walk took us and ended up at this fountain. I was amazed at how much had changed in my life just after a little less than a year of being here the last time. I think that is one reason why traveling is so important — taking yourself out of your every day living arrangements and environment takes all those distractions and habits away so that all you see is yourself for who you are and you realize that all you have is what you’ve made of yourself, and it’s in these moments it’s easy to see how much you’ve grown.
, 
One Day
3.13.14 late morning (that may be a bit of an understatement):
I wake up and feel depressed a bit. I miss the warm weather – a lot. I miss the city of New Orleans. I resist, but can’t help but love (and hate) the sticky humid feeling, the dirty streets, chaos, and the smell of crawfish. I miss the energy there — high strung, vibrant energy — almost moving at too fast a pace to keep up with it. But what I miss more than anything right now is the community I’ve made with friends and the friendships I’ve cultivated and walking down the stairs or walking in the front door to find everyone hanging out and laughing and staying up until 3am talking… that’s what I miss more than anything else right now.
later that afternoon:
I almost want to cry as I walk into Stauf’s, order, and pour creamer in my mug of hot, brown liquid. I could be at Envie right now instead of here…
…with doors and windows wide open, sitting around people who wear rollerblades to commute here and who greet you like they’ve known you for forever, with a warm breeze blowing through my hair.
But instead I’m here, sitting in the middle of a cozy, yet closed off room, surrounded by average looking, incredibly clean-cut, generally very attractive individuals who cling to their closed off worlds and social circles.
It’s cold here. No one calls me “baby” when I order my coffee, and I feel out of place, like I don’t fit in on such a large scale.
All of that to say, that I miss New Orleans. Being in a different place and coming back home makes you miss what you discovered in a new (or at least different) place, but it also makes you realize how much you have in the place where you came from.
And One Day, I’ll return.