After reading how Ignatius described the city of New Orleans, I have to say I agree with it a little bit. Not so much in today's society, but how societies in the past might have view New Orleans.

Let's start with prostitues. For one thing, New Orleans invented the word hooker. How? In one of strip clubs, they would have a girl on top of the building with a hook who would then swing into the streets and "hook" a man and drag him toward the club. In fact, on Bourbon today in one of the strip clubs, there is a pair of legs hanging out to represent just that. Another thing, there's still a law in existence today that prevents more than eight women living in a house at time, otherwise it's considered a whorehouse, not to mention that New Orleans is home to one of the most known whorehouses ever, the House of the Rising Sun (well, depending on who you ask). So if you're looking for your Elle Wood's experience, Louisiana is not your state. As for alcoholics, that's still true to this day, you cannot think of New Orleans with associating it with alcohol, much less the state itself. After all, Louisiana does have the highest rate of drunk driving accidents. In 1718, New Orleans had become a center for major illegal gambling. So, with that kind of history, it's possible the city is still closely related to it.

As for the rest, I'm not too sure how the rest can relate to the New Orleans past society. As for today, I think for the most part those ideas are false, well, accept for the alcoholics.

I always used to comment on how ignorant residents of New Orleans were, how they could live in a City below sea level, especially after Katrina. Not to mention the high crime rates, and the humidity. I figured Katrina would make people finally realize how stupid it is to live in New Orleans, I didn't think there should be any rebuilding. For this Loyola was not my first choice school, however it was the only one I could afford.

After living here over the summer for a month, and for the first semester, I can fully understand the desire to come back after such a travesty. It's the culture. New Orleans is the greatest City to live in. New Orleans is a beautiful place filled with music and wonderful people. Walking around in the French Quarter allows you to see and experience so much. There are street performers from dancers to singers to flame throwers, there are psychics. New Orleans has incredible food, best food I've even tasted. You can take cruises on the Mississippi, or horse drawn carriage rides around the quarter. In New Orleans you'll never be bored, and you will never get sick of the rich culture. I can't wait to live here for good.

Royal Street

A few days ago, my friends from Lafayette and San Francisco came in. The first thing we did was go to Cafe Du Monde and have a nice little chat. After awhile, we start exploring the French Quarter. One of my friends, who is an art major, loves to go down Jackson square and admire the paintings. Afterwards, we explored Royal street. In the middle of the street, there was a local jazz band playing. Near the jazz band was a tourist shop. This shop had all kinds of souvenirs such as mardi gras beads to voodoo dolls and even a walking cane. Although these are not the typical items you see in a gift shop, it was fascinating to see how different New Orleans is. Another interesting thing I discovered at Royal Street was trying to get this boutique called Hana. When my friends and I saw the sign Hana, we looked to our left and did not see the store. All we saw was this alley way. At first we were hesitant to walk in this alley way, but our curiosity took control of us. As we walked in this alley way, to the right appeared to be an apartment building and in front of us was the store. This was interesting to me because I usually don't take an alley way to get to a store.

My aunt, an alumna from Loyola, came in town over the weekend and I got to hang out with her alot. I was really excited because she was going to show me the spots that she and her friends frequented some thirty years ago. I took her to the fly and she took me to some awesome restauraunts around town. We went to an old oyster house called pesci mentos or something like that which is on magazine. I hate seafood (yes, I know I am in the wrong city for that) but I love going to local seafood restaraunts. It was a cute hole in the wall place and obviously very dated. The people working there took obvious pride in their creole culture and food. Over lunch, she discovered that I hadn't been to camillia grill (shocking, yes) so we went there the next day. Once again I was truly impressed and loved the historical atmosphere and pride. Our waiter said "who dat" every other word and told us stories of Harry, an old employee who worked there for ages. On sunday, I was treated like royalty at commanders palace. Wow. Not only was it the best meal I have ever eaten, but it was gameday. On the table were gold and black balloons and an old brass band marched around the room playing requests. When they played "When the saints come marching down" the room went wild and marched with them, swinging napkins above their heads. That is one thing I have come to realize while living in New Orleans, everyone has so much pride for their city and anything will unite a room, transforming strangers into new best friends.

When I first started school in New Orleans, I didn’t have a car here. I still don’t have a car, but I have become that college friend nobody wants because he or she is constantly asking you for a ride here or there. While it is more convenient for me to just get rides, I decided this weekend to walk to Walgreens instead of convincing my friend Chelsea that there were plenty of things there that she needed. As I was walking I was thinking about how the sidewalks on St. Charles are. In the beginning of the school year the condition of the sidewalks frustrated me greatly. All I needed were some paper towels from the Rite Aid or Walgreens, and I would come back with those and a sore body from all the bumps and cracks I ran into while riding my bike. However, as I was walking this weekend, I realized that while the sidewalks are not the best, they are unique and have character. The trees that are causing for the terrible cracks and bumps in the sidewalks are so old and wonderful. The trees and landscape along St. Charles make it a beautiful stroll. Perhaps flawed sidewalks with huge trees growing out of them aren’t unique only to New Orleans, but they are certainly a component as to why New Orleans is charming to me. When I ride my bike or walk the sidewalks in St. Louis, I am not usually injured when I am finished, but I also don’t experience the beauty of the New Orleans’ trees.

Saints Nation

Admittedly I'm not a Saints fan, in fact far from it. Yet I can respect the way the fans react to their team. The last time I was anywhere near the Super Dome, I was waiting for my aunt to check in her ticket for the Saints v Cowboys game. What I saw there completey amazed me. There were people who painted their bodies black and gold from head to toe, people in Saint's baby diapers, really just a menagerie of CRAZY people! Since I didn't have a ticket, I hit Bourbon with my mom. Dressed in my Cowboys gear I realized, New Orleans is a hostile place for a non-fan. Equipped with nothing but my biting sarcasm and sheer determination to prove everyone wrong, I was ready for battle on Bourbon. With the Saints' defeat, I saw no change in morale, according to fans, the Saints were still on top.

A month later, and on their way to the Superbowl, the Saints are a seemingly indomitable force. They can't be hassled, won't be stopped and are a force to be reckoned with. That description was solely about the fans. I think the Saints fans define the people who inhabit New Orleans. After everything that has happened in this city, the fervor that surrounds what was a once the worst team in the league is almost insane. And yet it makes sense here.

Experiencing the city

Over the weekend I took Dr. Hunt's advice. The weekend was finally here, but what to do? When one of my friends suggested the boot, I could see Dr. Hunt's pained face, and decided to take a stance and refuse to go. Instead my friends and I decided to see a different side of this historic city- a ghost tour in the french quarter, perfect! We made our way down to the quarter and meet our tour guide on St. Peter street. He took us around the quarter, pointing out some of the most "haunted" buildings in the city. The one that stood out the most to me was the La Laurie house. Here is a link so you can read the disturbing story for yourself. http://www.prairieghosts.com/lalaurie.html

The tour was kind of corny (as expected) but fun nonetheless. Our tour guide incorporated some important New Orleans history, making the tour very interesting. It was nice to walk around the city and become familiar with the street names. I have lived 1.5 hours away from this unique city for most of my life, and have taken that for granted. I enjoyed the experience, and plan to do something culturally exciting very soon.

In A Confederacy of Dunces, Ignatius refers to New Orleans as a "city famous for its gamblers, prostitutes, exhibitionists, antichrists, alcoholics, sodomites, frauds, jades, litterbugs, and lesbians..."(15). This quote, although humorous and dramatic, has some truth to it. New Orleans is famous for a extremely fun and wild lifestyle. This lifestyle is often linked to alcoholism, excessive partying, and corruption. Although these characteristics of New Orleans may be true, they are not the most defining characteristics of the city in my eyes. 

 

The characteristics that Ignatius brings up could be characteristics of many cities, not just New Orleans. This is because in all urban environments you find corruption in some shape or form. Thus, there are many more important characteristics of New Orleans to focus on that make the city unique. Whenever people ask me what living in New Orleans is like, I tell them that it is like no other place in the world. This is because it is a city that feels so old and European in so many ways, yet also very metropolitan and modern in others. This city attracts so many different types of people, many who Ignatius frowns upon, but nonetheless interesting and culturally diverse. 

The Saints? Who dat?

Of course everybody knows that the Saints, New Orleans' football team, are on their way to the Superbowl for the first time ever. And it seemed the entire city was on fire the moment the fans realized this. Having absolutely no interest in football whatsoever, I tried to avoid the game as much as possible. Yet the game was showing everywhere. I could not go to the Residence Hall to sleep, or to the OR Dining Room to eat, or to the library to study without hearing crowds cheering for a field goal or screaming at a bad call by the referee. Even going outside where it is normally quiet the night before class days, cars drove by constantly honking with little kids screaming, "Who dat say they gon beat them Saints!" And my friends and family back home texted me left and right asking me if I knew that the Saints were going to the Superbowl. They knew before I did. Isn't that awful? Then coming in to classes Monday morning, the fervor was far from over. Besides the fact that both of my classes were half empty, the excitement was obvious. Every other student dawned their black and gold jerseys. My history teacher ended the class halfway through because we reached a point in his power point presentation where he said, "This is as far as I got before the game got good last night." Neither could my French teacher , a Jesuit priest, suppress his thrill. Can you imagine a priest singing "Who Dat Nation?" Also, a former archbishop of New Orleans apparently joked that the Saints was an appropriate name for the city's football team, but that normally saints end up as martyrs. The entire city appears to love this team.
I began to realize why this was so after talking to a friend from Metairie, which is a 15-minute drive from Loyola's campus. "It's not just the game, it's the team. They brought us hope after Hurricane Katrina. It unites the city." She asked me why I did not like my home state's team, the Denver Broncos, and the light came on. After such a tremendous tragedy as Katrina, people needed something to look forward to; an escape from the rough reality of reconstruction. The Saints just happen to be that unifying force, where New Orleanians can just take a breath and enjoy life for a moment, without preoccupation or anxiety. Colorado as a whole has never been struck by any sort of natural disaster or crisis.
My friend also informed me that crime seems to magically cease during a Saints game because everybody would rather be watching them on TV than selling drugs, murdering neighbors, or prostituting on the corner. Sure, the game lasts what? A mere three hours? But three hours of no crime is impressive for the city known for being the murder capital of the world to outsiders. Not having witnessed firsthand the tragedy of Katrina, I will probably never fully appreciate the Saints' football team, but I am beginning to understand. I can't help but think what will be that unifying force for our neighbor just south of us in the Carribean that just suffered the worst earthquake in decades. New Orleans shares its creole culture with the island nation of Haiti; maybe it will share its spirit of hope and rebuilding as well.
At any rate, I have only gained more love for my college city from seeing all the football madness and I guess I will just have to watch the Superbowl on February 7th, even though at the end of the game, I will still have to ask, "So, who won?" :)

A Little Bit of Jazz . . .

This weekend, I went to a neat jazz club called 'Irvin Mayfield's Jazz Playhouse.' It's located on Bourbon Street. We had quite a time getting there. Bourbon Street was extremely crowded. It was a very nice cultural experience. I went with my family. There was some great jazz, good food, and a lot of people. Everyone was so excited about the Saint's game. The music was fantastic. This is really what I feel makes this city so great. I mean, the people there were just having a great time as they kicked back and listened to some great tunes. That's part of what makes this city great. We native New Orleanians know how to have a great time. There were a lot of people dancing, talking, eating, and just having one heck of a time.

I had these really good Wasabi Peanuts.

Below is a clip of a traditional, New Orleanian song that I took. The name of the song is 'Go To The Mardi Gras' originally by Professor Longhair.

Here are a few more pictures that I took.

In the end, I can say that I had a great cultural experience. I believe places like this really portray the city at its best (although it's located on a not-so-cultural street.)

Enjoy,

--André L.

I am happy to be enjoying A Confederacy of Dunces as much as I am, and I'm thankful that it's a fast read. Though Ignatius has amusing quirks, he aggravates me. He's horrible to his mother--though she does allow the behavior. As I've been reading, I can't help but mirror his strangeness to what I have learned/am learning in my Psychology courses. Ignatius seems to have a loose grasp on reality, and seems incredibly delusional (basically assuming that he is too smart for his surroundings, therefore he shouldn't need to contribute to society.) He is also very socially inappropriate and has no sensor at all (accusing people of being communists, writing a completely degrading letter to Abelman's Dry Goods, and simply belittling every person he comes into contact with.) And of course, his most obvious issue is that he refuses to move out and mature. Personally, I believe that Ignatius is far too abnormal to not have any psychological issues. That being said, the setting of New Orleans could not have been a more appropriate place for such a bizarre character. Just as we seem to accept Ignatius for his odd characteristics and find them amusing, we do the same with the city of New Orleans. No other city even closely compares to New Orleans and it's less-than-normal traditions, yet everyone loves it because of them.

Where floodwaters once stood, a tide of emotion rises in New Orleans

Where floodwaters once stood, a tide of emotion rises in New Orleans
By Sally Jenkins
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, January 25, 2010; D01

It was a contact drunk. You didn't have to swallow a drop for this NFC championship game to make you feel totally inebriated, like you'd been swilling the cheap well whiskey of Bourbon Street all night. When the action finally ceased, after nearly four hours, the wrenching swings and lead changes, dramatic spirals and swoons left you staggering amid the great geysers of horn music and confetti. The New Orleans Saints, dragging a whole metropolis on their backs, had advanced to the Super Bowl, but only in overtime after one man, Brett Favre, tried to take down the entire city.

The Superdome crowd of 71,276 was incoherent with madness; it was the loudest noise ever, a hurricane in your head. But when you thought it couldn't get any louder, it went up another notch, into a great shrill stratosphere as Garrett Hartley stepped up to a 40-yard field goal with 10 minutes 15 seconds left in overtime. Behind the uprights was a large fleur-de-lis emblazoned on an upper deck of the Superdome, that storm-ravaged facility. Saints Coach Sean Payton told Hartley, "Why don't you just hit that fleur-de-lis dead center?" Hartley did exactly that, sailed the ball through the uprights toward that ornate emblem of a team and a city, to give them the 31-28 victory over the Minnesota Vikings and the greatest moment in franchise history.

Make no mistake: They won for love of their city. They won for all the neighborhoods where the benighted old mansions now peel and sag, like old ladies who have misapplied their makeup. For all the buskers and panhandlers and street dancers, working under shabby, old oaks and palms. They won for the poor, flooded districts where the horns lament on street corners, Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans, I miss it both night and day.

Had a town ever craved a victory more than New Orleans? All across the city, people who had lost everything needed so desperately to win something. Even the cops on street corners chanted, "WHO DAT?" The local paper, the Times-Picayune, threw away all dispassion and ran a banner headline Sunday morning: "Our Team. Our Town. Our Time." One Saints fan outside the Superdome even stamped a fleur-de-lis on the side of his great Dane. Party wagons with Klaxons barreled down the boulevards, imbibers hanging from the windows.

"Four years ago there were holes in this roof," Payton said. "The fans in this region and this city deserve this."

This time, the wreckage on the field and in the streets was sweet, beads and feathers and streamers, as opposed to the flotsam and detritus of the flood. The references were inescapable, and the Saints didn't shy from them. All season, they had announced they were playing for something much larger than themselves. "It's a calling," quarterback Drew Brees said. After all, their home stadium had been the last refuge in the city for 30,000 residents during Hurricane Katrina, and an earthly version of hell during the storm-flood afterwards, strewn with debris and with breaches in the roof. The damage was so heavy, and so emblematic of New Orleans's sense of trauma and abandonment, that city officials nearly decided to tear it down.

Instead it underwent a $200 million renovation, and when the Saints returned to it in 2006, they did so with a new head coach in Payton, and a quarterback the rest of the league had given up on in the sore-shouldered Brees. The renovated dome was a charmless edifice, all gray cinder block, but it was filled with the ghosts of Katrina, and the men who played inside the building never once flinched from the responsibility of that. On the contrary, they took specific, enormous pride in it. "Ninety percent of people who come up to me on the street don't say, 'Great game,' " Brees said back in 2006, when he first got to town. "They say, 'Thank you for being part of the city.' "

Brees and Payton became the guys who came to New Orleans when no one else would. They arrived when the city was still destroyed and there was still junk in the streets. When Payton moved to the city, it was nearly empty, and the franchise was so lacking in facilities it had to hold training camp in Jackson, Miss. "There was a lot of traffic going the other direction, not much going in," Payton recalled. Businesses were so shuttered that at one point, he had to stand in line for two hours at a Walgreen's drug store to get an antibiotic for his daughter, and could only get half the prescription filled. "In other words, it was different," he said. "It was hard to explain if you weren't here."

Brees was looking for a new team after the San Diego Chargers had no use for him. He committed to a city still partly underwater. "There were still boats in living rooms and trucks flipped upside down on top of houses," he said earlier this week. "Some houses just off the foundation and totally gone. You just say, 'Man, what happened here? It looks like a nuclear bomb went off.' For me, I looked at that as an opportunity. An opportunity to be part of the rebuilding process. How many people get that opportunity in their life to be a part of something like that?"

One of these days, football will just be football again in New Orleans, but on this night, it was much more. Everything seemed to have outsize meaning, from the stakes to the noise. Then, as if the game needed anything more, the 40-year-old Favre delivered a living-legend performance.

Time and again, Favre choked off the crowd and the momentum as he directed scoring drives downfield. He struck at the Saints repeatedly, like a rattlesnake, as he threw for 310 yards with an assortment of lasers and fades while enduring a succession of shuddering blows. Gimpy and grizzled, he just kept slinging it downfield. In the final minute of regulation he threatened to bring the entire building down as he drove the Vikings once more, this time to the Saints 38. Finally, with 19 seconds left in regulation, Favre made a fatal mistake. Facing third down and 15 yards to go, he rolled right, then whirled and threw back to his left toward Sidney Rice -- but right into the hands of cornerback Tracy Porter. That effectively sent the game into overtime.

After all that, it came down to a coin toss. That was the break the Saints needed to close the deal. Favre would never return to the field; overtime belonged to the Saints, who won the toss, then got a blazing 40-yard kick return from Pierre Thomas. From there, the Saints inched their way into field goal position. Hartley took aim at that fleur-de-lis and sent the ball up, and the sound came down from the upper reaches of the Superdome like a landslide.

"It's surreal," Brees said. "Coming here four years ago, post-Katrina. . . . It's unbelievable, it's unbelievable. You can draw so many parallels between our team and our city. In reality we've had to lean on each other in order to survive. The city is on its way to recovery. We've used the strength and resilience of our fans to go out and play with confidence on Sundays. It's been one step at a time, and we've had to play through plenty of adversity. Just like this town has."

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I like how Jenkins focuses on Drew Brees’s reasoning for coming to New Orleans. He says he saw it as an opportunity to contribute to the rebuilding process of the city. The first time I came to New Orleans was on a mission trip to rebuild a part of Bay St. Louis, MS. in 2009. I was drawn to the fact that the city was beginning to thrive four years after Katrina and wanted to be a part of the rebuilding process, as Brees described. Jenkins also writes about what this win means for New Orleans as a city on its way to recovery.

Ignatious is a very unique and annoying character, but he is also very funny. He seems to find something wrong in everyone and everything except himself. He is also a very selfish person. For example, Ignatious believes that his mother should be happy to take care of him. So, it was no surprise that he became upset when his mother started hanging out with Officer Mancuso and his aunt. Even though Ignatious is so out there, he reminds me of so many other men his age (including those in my family), who are so dependent on their mothers. I find that a good bit of men here in New Orleans, as well as many other places, have so many excuses not to go out and find jobs because they are afraid to be on their own. I don't really see the reasons behind his actions or his views, but hopefully I will find them before the end of this joy ride.