The imagery of the movie was fascinating and horrifying. I was living in Brussels at the time of the storm and had vague recollections of the images on TV then, the shocking devastation and the disproportionate racial inequality of the victims. I remember sitting with friends looking at the TV in shock thinking that this could not be the graceful city I spent a week in, one with an amazing food and music culture, a developed sense of identity, all of which seemed to be swept in the mud and water from the levees breaking.
Trouble the Water was particularly powerful as you the viewer were able to see what it was like to be in a house in the lower 9th Ward, the desperate flee to the attic as the water rose higher and higher in their house, the attempts to find safety on a partially closed down Naval Base on higher ground (they were denied entry) and then finally at a local high school.
Without getting into too many details of the movie, I can only say watch it because the stories of Kimberly and Scott are interspersed with news footage and horrifying recordings of 911 calls by resident who are trapped in rising water only to be told that there are no rescuers coming. I would also recommend having a large box of Kleenex nearby.
My own experience with New Orleans was idyllic - during my first year of graduate school a few of us who had interned together the summer prior decided that we would meet there for New Years Eve 2002 and all piled into our friends' Tulane dorm room. The city I saw was graceful and elegant, full of charming restaurants and cafes, a very unique sense of identity and a certain je ne sais quoi amongst its residents which really reverberated in the atmosphere.
We did spend an inordinate time on Bourbon Street, to which I can only say that I never saw so many body parts, both male and female, on display to get beads, and went to drive-through frozen cocktail joints where the workers were more than happy to recommend which frozen concoction was in fact the strongest, without verifying our IDs.
But a few blocks away from Bourbon Street and in many other neighborhoods, there were beautiful french-style cafes and small restaurants, I remember one particular Cuban cigar and coffee store which I was particularly fond of and venues playing all sorts of music - jazz, honky-tonk, rockability - until all hours of the morning, and so much more.
While I suspect most of the calories we consumed were liquid (we were all in our early 20s and didn't know too much better) a few meals do stand out in my mind:
Eating frozen alligator for the first time in a typical New Orleans joint and finding it really did taste like a mix between chicken and calamari and wasn't all that bad.
Enjoying an amazing etouffe at a little hole-in-the wall type place when we drove out to the bayou and thinking just how good it was.
Enjoying coffee and beignets at Cafe du Monde, sitting on their large terrace, people watching to one's heart content and just thinking life didn't get too much better then in that very moment.
And finally having an amazing meal at Antoine's, a 160-year-old New Orleans' establishment where we treated ourselves to a fancy meal. Amongst various recollections, what I clearly remember was the wonderful old-world formality of the service - there is something to be said about a restaurant which values its waitstaff and sees them as colleagues who are also in it for the long-term. My crayfish bisque was amazing, rich and frothy, tasting like the sweet crab-like meat but without being overly creamy, and at the end they made us an entire baked Alaska, lightening it on fire to caramelize the meringue while keeping the ice cream inside smooth, cool, and creamy. It was one of those amazing dishes that keep your palate on its toes to speak, never knowing the texture and temperature of the next morsel.
I never made it to the 9th Ward - my suggestion to our host that we take the streetcar to Desire was greeted with derision and a flippant "best of luck" for my personal safety should I chose to do so. In retrospect, I really wish I had, because what really could have happened during the day, and I could have used my best Blanche du Bois line "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."
I would say next time, but the little that remains of that neighborhood and the changing racial and socio-economic dynamics of the city might make it unlikely that Streetcars run to Desire again. And it is tragic that we are willing to let an entire community unnecessarily suffer through a horrific natural disaster but then do very, very little to help rebuild their lives and neighborhoods.
I sincerely hope that one time one can laissez-les bon temps rouelez not only on Bourbon Street but all over the city. And until then, I bid New Orleans may deepest a bientot and bon chance.
