Yes it is a very long title for a blog posting but then again if you have not been to New Orleans tyou need to read what is written below.
There is a famous song that has the lines:
Baby please don't go
Baby please don't go
Baby please don't go down to New Orleans ....
Ever since I first heard the song I have wondered why he did not want the baby in question to go down to New Orleans. Was she in danger? Why did she want to go down to New Orleans? Was she running away? Where the hell was New Orleans?
So I found out the geographical location of the city. Then in geography class I learned about Louisiana and began to wonder if perhaps Baby had lost her mind which was why she wanted to go down to the city. Mardi Gras seemed the only reason to go and even then who really wanted to wonder the streets with countless over inebriated people throwing bead necklaces at each other. Was Shrove Tuesday not the first day in a period set aside for serious spiritual reflection? (This was the Nun time of my life - it lasted for about six weeks). Baby was clearly someone who had no desire to pursue the academic path of life. Let her go I chorused as I listened to the song. There are other Babies out there. This one is not worth the time and trouble.
Decades passed. I would hear the song and think that one day I must visit the city. Having shrugged off my virtual habit I had stepped into adulthood and discovered jazz. New Orleans is one of the major cities in the USA that created jazz. Louis Armstrong et al were among many who were born, raised or played in the jazz clubs of New Orleans. Then delta blues entered my world. I love the rhythms of the music which its rich textures and interesting lyrics. This is music of the soul. It is music that you can close your eyes to and feel. I recently heard a song by Buddy Guy which start with the following lyrics:
Well, I done got old,
Can't do the things I used to
'Cause I'm an old man
Well, I done got old,
Well, I done got old
,I can't do the things I used to do'
Cause I done got old.
Not exactly uplifting words but combined with the music and the voice it is a great song. The blues are like that - they stop you and make you listen.
So maybe Baby went to New Orleans because she loved the blues and jazz.
A month ago I followed Baby to New Orleans. And I understood why he did not want her to go there.
New Orleans is in another country. It may be one of the 50 states of the USA but it is really a place which should ask you for your passport before you can enter. It feels like another country. It looks like a foreign place and the people are very different from most Americans I have met. New Orleans should be declared a national treasure. It has a different history from the other states. Its people are first and foremost New Orleanians. They regard themselves as having a difficult and complex history that they have accepted and acknowledged. During my time in the city I never saw or heard of any racist slurs or comments which I have heard and seen in Boston, MA. The city is not perfect. There is crime. There is poverty. Katrina revealed many of the structural and political issues that the city had and still has. Yet it works. People are proud of their city. People may be more laid back because of all the sunshine and the warmth. Perhaps it is an illusion created by a city that depends a lot on tourism. Maybe there is a secret code of conduct which you have to sign if you live there and enter the tourist zones but we spoke to, chatted with and even broke bread with people born and raised in the city and discovered that they were no different from what we had observed in the French Quarter and other areas. Certainly one tram driver was cranky. But then again being asked exactly the same questions four hundred and ninety seven times a day would make anyone a little grumpy. Most people were polite, friendly and well -warm. They chatted and conversed without picking up a cell phone, or looking at their watch or looking pass your shoulder. It seemed as if they might genuinely want to engage in conversation.
This might all because in New Orleans you can walk around with an cup of alcohol at any time of the day. CVS pharmacy, and others, sell alcohol. In fact when I asked a clerk at a CVS if all the pharmacies did so her reply was a classic: "Well it is medicine." So perhaps the La vie est belle ici attitude of the people is based on a constant supply of alcohol. Yet the only people I observed drunk where tourists. I am not naïve enough to assume that no residents get inebriated but I think that if you have access to alcohol as much as they do it is most probably so ordinary that self control is maintained. Or maybe it is because the drinks are so strong that one is enough. I really don't know but I did not see anyone getting into a fight or yelling abuse or behaving in an infantile manner because they were drinking. Maybe there is a secret police force that sweeps them off the street. What ever the reason I appreciated seeing people enjoying themselves in a manner that did not cause me concern for my well being.
Then there is the music. Baby most certainly went down to New Orleans to listen to the music. It is every where. In cafes. On street corners. In bars. In restaurants. For the price of a plate of food, or a drink (even soda if you do not wish to buy alcohol), or a coffee you can listen to music. All different types played by musicians who range from decent to really, really, good and excellent. This is the home of the Marsalis family so there is a high standard. People listen. People applaud. They dance. They laugh. People relax!
And the food. Baby may have been skinny when she left home but after a few months in New Orleans she would almost certainly have been letting out her dresses. The food is fantastic. Creole, Cajun, Southern, Louisianan it is all delicious. You know restaurants are good when the plates of food arrive and all conversation stops. Watch people eating. They linger over their food. This is not fast food. This is good food. Really good food. As one diner stated "It is outrageously good!" We had one disappointing meal out of the many we ate and that was really, really bad, Even the waitress acknowledged that it was truly awful. Baby would have most certainly discovered enough good places to eat that she need never have had a bad meal.
Add to all that the atmosphere of the city. I am certain that serious business is done if for no other reason than the numerous barges on the river with their cargo. All that stuff must be going somewhere and some one must be buying and selling but even the businessmen and women in their suits smile at you in passing. (Okay I admit that my garb was a little crazy mature lady style but that is because of my own poor judgment in selecting my clothes for the trip - so perhaps they were nervous grimaces rather than actual smiles but hey I'll take that over a glare). You feel that if you suddenly decided to dance on the pavement no one would summon the police. They might actually join in.
I suppose that all this admiration might just be good old fashioned joie de vive caused by holiday spirits and sunshine. Maybe my glasses were accidentally rose tinted but what ever the case I think that the reason the man did not want Baby to go down to New Orleans was simply this:
once there she would send a postcard back to him with no return address and the word
"Staying" on it.
I guess Baby knew exactly what she was doing when she went down to New Orleans.
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