How precious is the below house (right here in the Treme)? I love the gold and white details against the seafoam green paint. Just one example among many of the gorgeous architecture in this city. It’s so inspiring and soul-strengthening to live in a place where both beauty and individuality are cherished, and where the will to fight for their preservation is so pervasive. New Orleans becoming a strip-mall-laden land of cookie-cutter houses and chain stores and restaurants? Never!
Went to see the 101 Runners (for free!) this past Friday night at Tipitina’s uptown. They’re a funk group that includes some Mardi Gras Indians, which if you watched “Treme,” you probably know as much about as I do. That’s one part of New Orleans culture I am still trying to learn about and understand. In the meantime, their breathtaking costumes amaze me and their music makes me move! Below are some shots from the evening. Hope you enjoy ‘em!
“I got oranges and bananas…” “I got bell peppers, I got sweet potatoes…” “I got plums, I got blueberries….”
Imagine waking up every day to those words, chanted, dream-like from a loudspeaker outside, sounding a bit like the Muslim call to prayer. That’s what Mr. Okra brings to my life in addition, naturally, to all manner of fresh, delicious fruits and vegetables. I’d never heard of Mr. Okra until I moved here last fall, but he’s become one of my favorite phenomenons (’cause that is what he truly is) in all of the Big Easy.
Mr. Okra rides around the city selling produce to neighborhoods, mostly in mid-city and downtown. He sells in areas where it’s not always easy or convenient to find fresh produce. He announces his presence by calling out what he’s got that day in a distinctive, melodic rhythm using a loudspeaker on his truck. Check YouTube for videos of him and you can hear it for yourself. Trust me, it’s worth it. I get so happy, day after day, when I hear him coming, and even if I’m not buying anything that day, I’ll still run to the window to watch him and his brightly colored truck pass by.
Mr. Okra’s a New Orleans institution and legend, and as such, when his old pick-up truck broke down late last year, a bar on Frenchmen Street hosted a fundraiser to help Mr. Okra get back on his merry way. A Ford dealership donated a new truck for him, and after local artist Dr. Bob did his cheery magic on it, and after the back was modified to make racks for the fruit and veggies, Mr. Okra was back on his daily route, making us all so happy.
I took the below pictures on his first day back a few months ago. I was simply giddy when I heard his voice and ran out of the house as fast as possible to see him and his new truck. Only in New Orleans…
Lots of New Orleanians chose not to paint over the marks on their homes put there by post-Katrina rescue teams. They represent when the house was searched, by which team, and most chillingly in some awful cases, how many bodies were found inside. Walking around the Bywater neighborhood (an amazing, artsy ‘hood downtown) this past Sunday, I saw that this person draped prayer flags on top of their mark, their scar, if you will. I just thought it was striking and beautiful. And also sad, but somehow hopeful.
The moon on this night seemed the perfect illustration for that little bit of Buddhist poetry I recently posted…
“Like the moon,
Come out from behind the clouds!
Shine.”
– from the Dhammapada (translated by Thomas Byrom)
