New Orleans, Louisiana - May 2006 - Jazzfest

Matt and I drove to New Orleans on May 4, 2006, for the 2006 Jazz and Heritage Festival (aka Jazzfest). For those of you who are not familiar, Jazzfest is an annual event held at the Fairgrounds/Race Track, roughly located between the French Quarter and Lake Ponchartrain. There are ten stages showcasing a wide variety of music; from jazz, cajun, zydeco, rock, gospel, bluegrass and hip hop to music and events geared especially for children. And make no mistake; plenty of folks bring their kids. It is not unusual to see tiny babies or people with walkers, canes and wheelchairs. The festival is known for its great food and well-behaved attendees. No Mardi Gras crowd this!

We left on Thursday morning, getting out of town around 9:40 am, not bad as getaways go. We took Hosteen to Camp David on the way out of town. Camp David is a kennel on I-30 in Royce City. They have large fenced areas of different sizes for different sized dogs, swimming pools and shade trees. He did well the last time he stayed there, so we hoped for the same this time.

After we drop off the boy we try to find our way to I-20, so at the advice of the Camp David staff, we take a side road, which ends in Poetry, Texas. That seems an auspicious start to our adventure. Eventually this goes to Terrill, where there were few signs, but we find University, a little road off to the right that is very woodsy looking. We take this road, winding and turning through the countryside, wandering here and there, seemingly going nowhere. However we finally come to an interstate entrance in the middle of nowhere. There is nothing but fields and trees and a lonely freeway entrance. By this time I am getting a bit hungry, and by the time we see any buildings I am the teeniest bit cranky. Eventually I am so hungry that I decide I must have an egg of some sort. We stop in a small burg, and try the Dairy Queen and Carl's Jr, both of which will serve no eggs at 11 am. Backtracking to a small converted gas station that declares it is 'Taco Time', Matt goes in to ask about breakfast tacos. The girl at the counter says no, so we were backing away when a man comes out and motions for us to roll down the window. "I have eggs, so I can make you some breakfast tacos. Do you want sausage too?" "Sure!" We each have two and they are delicious.

Thursday

The closer we get to New Orleans, the more snapped off trees we see along the sides of the road. Aside from any damage done by Katrina, the storms before and after left thousands of trees down all over the state. Trees are snapped off at the base, mostly having turned various shades of black and grey. Closer in we start to see blue tarps on roofs and sides of buildings. So prevalent are these tarps and the ubiquitous piles of debris and garbage on almost every street corner, that the locals don't even notice it anymore.

We arrive at the apartment of our friend Doris, who is off attending a memorial service. Doris spent quite a bit of time in Dallas post-Katrina. She has been kind enough to invite us to stay for the weekend and share her tiny third-floor apartment. Though it is tiny indeed, she makes us feel very welcome and comfortable. We call our friend Jay. (An aside: Jay sold his house the year before Katrina. His house was close to the fairgrounds and suffered some damage, though not as extensive as many others. Doris however was not so fortunate. Her home was in the Lakeview area. Doris' home was under nine or so feet of water for several weeks, and she basically lost everything she had. A picture appears later in this article.) Jay drives over to pick us up and take us to dinner. His description of some out-of-this-world grilled oysters has got me in the mood, but when we get to the restaurant they have quit serving. Nine pm is the new closing time. We try a second place with the same results. This is another unanticipated Katrina result: Shorter hours and perhaps even less days per week of operation of many businesses that beforehand wouldn't think of closing so early.

We end up in the French Quarter, an area that escaped much of the damage seen everywhere else. We find a restaurant that will still serve us. Hurray! We have a pleasant meal with Jay and catch up on what has really been going on in New Orleans.

Friday

We catch a ride to jazzfest with Doris. One of the first things we notice about the city is that there are few street signs, and in many places there are no traffic lights or stop signs. They are simply gone. You have to drive carefully, and hard as it is to believe, eight months after Katrina, people are still driving politely, stopping when in doubt, and giving right of way to the other guy. Doris knows everybody and has a good parking spot close to the fairgrounds, so we park and get out, stopping to visit the people in the neighborhood where the car is parked. Colleen, a friend of Doris' graciously invites us to use her bathroom, hang out on her porch, or whatever else we want to do before and after a day at the fairgrounds.
Above is soft-shell crab po-boy on french bread, a specialty not to be missed. This year noticeably missing were the soft-shell crawfish po-boys.  The food almost didn't happen this year because supplies were largely wiped out. The vendors and staff put forth a herculean effort to get ready and provided about 75% of the food available in previous years, for which we were all grateful.

After we get inside, we make our way for the gospel tent, always our first stop.

Shortly after that we run into several friends, including Jay.
Eric, Lulu, Jay, Mary, Doris - in front of the Gospel Tent

Now our day has well and truly begun. Jazzfest has to be experienced, descriptions don't do it justice, but some pictures will give you an idea. We are blessed with good weather this year. By good weather I mean that it is hot but not so terribly hot as some years, plenty of cloud cover, and sometimes a delightful breeze. The food is great, and you can hardly ask for more than that, and the welcome of an entire city of people who are gathered to hear music and be thankful for everything they have, be it little or great.

One of my favorites - a combo plate with spinach and artichoke casserole, sweet potato pone, and a seafood dish with crawfish, onions, mushrooms and a creamy sauce.

 
Jazzfest transport but not for us.

One of the saddest things at jazzfest, in fact the only sad thing at jazzfest. Milo is one of many beloved family members lost during the hurricanes.


The Leviathan Oriental Foxtrot Orchestra.  We just like the name, but the music was good too.


One of several sculptures in the kids area.


The best hat of the fest.  All those flowers are real.


My young friend was covered with chocolate when first we met.  His dad cleaned off his face while we played
.


Each stage is unique with a theme and some decorative elements. Congo Square has a lot of bands from Africa and other places where a lot of percussion is used.  I think this was during a performance by Angelique Kidjo.



Matt and Doris.

At the end of the day we visit some more friends. Gina and Noel have just moved back into their house in the past month. Their two-story home is about four feet off the ground and they had about 1 1/2 feet of water in their house during the flooding. The floors and walls have all been redone, new appliances installed, and some furniture has been replaced. Nevertheless that doesn't stop them from being host and hostess to whoever stops by. Their back yard, formerly a beautiful rose garden with large trees lining the back, a fountain in the middle, and wild parrots living in the trees has become a bare patch of dirt. They lost six large trees that formerly made a private oasis in their back yard. All the trees came up by the roots and completely blocked their back door and deck until they were taken away. Where before you only saw a lovely garden you now see every house behind and to the sides, a stark contrast. Cast iron furniture on the deck painted with yellow daisies helps to dispel the trauma though and it is pleasant in the evening.

Saturday

Saturday, I have decided will be my day to drive around, see the city for myself, and take pictures. Matt decides he wants to join me for part of the day, and I will drop him off at the fairgrounds later in the day. Gina has said that she will take us around to some places, so we drive to her house. They planted two twenty-foot palm trees in their back yard this morning in an attempt to bring normalcy back and give the wild parrots some place to sit. We jump in Gina's convertible, a post-Katrina addition, and off we go. We drive by the Times-Picayune distribution center near Gina's house. The building is a wreck with what looks like a lot of storm damage as well as water damage.

Gina's back yard with one of the new palm trees - prior to the storm you could barely see the houses behind.


Around the corner from Gina's


Around the corner from Gina's - she said that room was a nursery


Times-Picayune Distribution Center - a large pile of debris now


Twisted metal and soggy moldy piles of pulp are all that is left


Even though the newspaper took a big hit, they kept publishing all through the flooding and storms


This house collapsed in on itself


We identify a bathtub but not much else in the rubble

After seeing the horrors of Gina's neighborhood, where the homes are still mostly unoccupied, we head towards the Lower Ninth Ward. It seems that a war has happened here. There are whole trees that have upended roots and all, homes that have floated off their foundations and into the front yards of other homes, cars abandoned here and there and everywhere, businesses boarded up, debris and signs that give just an inkling of what really went on. Again pictures are better here.
A typical sight.


Homes and businesses are vacant with broken out windows, and garbage and debris everywhere.


Waterlines can be seen all over the city.  The only difference is how high and how dark the mark it left.


This pile of dead furniture was over 1000 feet long.

A sad sight are the spray-painted signs on buildings indicating humans and animals found inside, some alive, some not so fortunate.

More collapsed buildings.


Lots of cars can be seen under roofs and buildings.  As of the beginning of May 2006 there are still an estimated 150,000 abandoned cars.  A bid was underway to have them towed off.  Many have already been moved to a temporary pile under the freeway.


This was not so typical, a grave-type marker.  It was hard to tell if there was actually a house here, but it looked like there was part of a foundation and evidence of appliances, a baby buggy, and a huge pile of wood.


The house on the left started out life somewhere else and floated to rest here in front of two other houses.  We couldn't tell exactly where it came from.


Not so bad at first until you realize the entire neighborhood has been vacated. These houses were mostly probably completely submerged.

Street after street looks like this.

After that we drove to the levees by the lake; saw the damage at the docks, and also Doris' house and neighborhood in Lakeview. There is a lot of construction everywhere, especially there, but Doris doesn't want to live there anymore. Half a mile from the levee, it’s a painful decision, but the third floor apartment she has rented west of New Orleans is as close as she wants to be for now.

Dog DOA under house. A book, 1Dead in Attic, by Chris Rose, local columnist, contains stories of life after Katrina in New Orleans, and could be found on the coffee table of more than one of our friends.


Just a few doors down from Doris.  The part under water used to be a nice paved street but now is full of pot holes, nails, and debris.


This was Doris' house.  The blue tarp in front covers what is left of her grand piano. You can just make out the waterline.  The maximum level here was about nine feet.


At the docks there is a similar story.  Boats were tossed all over and now are in great piles.  The buildings in the background used to house a hoppin' restaurant.  Now all are abandoned.

 
This is a huge pile of boats.  From what I hear it used to be much larger and has been somewhat cleaned up.


All up and down the banks boathouses are in ruins.
 

Tossed like toys they sit.  Work on the levees is being done just around the corner.

Back at Gina's she gets on with her day and I drop Matt off at the fairgrounds. I drive down to the French Quarter and decide to park and walk around a bit. I stop at Cafe du Monde and get an iced coffee and an order of beignets and walk to the top of the stairs to sit by the river and watch the boats go by. Barges still come and go from all corners of the world, and from here you almost wouldn't know that anything was amiss. Street performers still perform, musicians still play inside and out, artists still sketch and paint, vendors sell their wares, and horse-drawn buggies still pull tourists around. I walk up and down Decatur ending up at the farmers market, mostly just looking, but I do buy a few small items, and talk to some of the vendors about their experiences. Everyone wants to talk about it, and why not! This is a defining moment few of us will know. The larger feeling here is that the government has turned a blind eye to their plight, and seeing the city for ourselves you can hardly blame them. Nevertheless my coffee and beignets are delicious and I have a lovely pleasant afternoon to myself.

After leaving the French Quarter, a barely touched area (relatively speaking of course), I decide to go to DJ's house for a while until time to pick up Matt from the fairgrounds. Not knowing my way around, I get a bit lost and drive in circles for a while, until I finally find the street I am looking for. In this area most of the homes had about a foot or two of water (only), and in many the second stories are livable, while the first floors are being redone. There are no parking places in the first block so I continued to the second block where there is one spot on this very narrow street. It is hard to judge with all the cars, little space and very sharp curbs. I feel the tire go up on the curb, so I back off and get out, hearing the hiss of escaping air that fills me with dread, especially in an unfamiliar neighborhood, in a town that may or may not have tire stores. I can see and feel that the side of the tire is ripped and no repair job will help me. I walk down to DJ's but he isn't home and I cannot find the key, nor can I reach Matt or DJ or Jay on their cell phones.

Across the street a girl has come out of her house with her dogs. I ask her if she can help me, unsure even of what I am asking. She says she doesn't know what to do either, but to come over and we will come up with a plan. Rita, it turns out has just returned to her home after the workmen have finished redoing her floors and walls, and this is her first time to come clean up after that messy process. She has some groceries and cleaning supplies and her little schnauzers, Schnitzel and Streudel, are playing in the yard. Rita cleans and we chat and I pace and play with the dogs. Rita feeds me chocolate and is a soothing influence on my frayed nerves. Jays calls back and says they are coming to get me. Rita and I are sitting in front of her house when I see DJ walking his dog Pearl across the street. I wave and he looks in disbelief. "Dana, is that you?" "Yes its me". Just then Jay, Mary, and Matt pull up in Jay's pickup truck. About a minute later Noel (Gina's husband) and his two friends from up north come walking by from another direction. Suddenly seven people and a dog I know are standing in front of Rita's house. It is all too funny at this point (at least now it seems that way). DJ invites us down to his place for a rest and a visit. His duplex looks like a resort. Prettily painted with blue and white striped awnings on the balcony, and even the sidewalks are decorative. He placed a row of decorative stones between each pad in the sidewalk giving it that little extra character. He finished redoing the first floor that had flooded and has a nice tenant who moved in recently. Available apartments and housing is snapped up in minutes around here. DJ tells us how some people have profited from Katrina by doubling or tripling their rents, but paying his bills and having a nice tenant means more to him than money.

Schnitzel and Streudel - Rita and these babies helped me through my car trauma

Our next stop is Jay's current abode. He is renting while he is redoing a flooded house he bought after Katrina. His little dog Pete has been a jazzfest staple for many years, and it is good to see him. Jay's new addition, a cat named Cow, looks just like her name. They divide their time between the city during the week and the country on the weekends where Jay is building a retreat for himself and his animals. There is actually a pizza delivery place around the corner and the pizza is very good. Mmmmm!


Pete and Mary

Sunday

The last day of jazzfest for another year is upon us. It has been threatening to rain the entire weekend and it hasn't done so yet, but today may be the day. We do get rained on today for about twenty minutes. As we are walking toward the grandstand it suddenly starts raining, quickly turning into a downpour. We dash into the jazz tent along with several thousand other people who have the same idea. The rain won't last long, but we are impatient so see other things, so we make a break for the grandstand, rain and all. When the rain stops we walk around the track counter-clockwise to the other end of the fairgrounds. Along the way we see groups of children who are making the best of what has now become a day at the beach. The track is made of sand, and sand pies, castles, and mermaids are popping up. Happy children are covered in sand and mud, finally in their element.

During the few days we have been in town I have been thanked several times from various people, many of who are complete strangers. Thanked for coming to jazzfest. Thanked for coming to New Orleans. Thanked for taking pictures and passing the word of what has happened here. Thanked for being supportive of the people and their plight. During the late afternoon I was standing in line for some food and got to talking to the woman next to me. The line was quite long, so we chatted for a while. As we neared the counter I remarked, "I hope I have money after all that waiting in line". "I have money if you don't" she says. Would you hear this in Dallas? I think not. The generosity of the people here continues to astound me.

Jay and I leave jazzfest near the end of the day and go to a small French restaurant around the corner where we people watch and visit, while our friends come and go and a band plays on the sidewalk by the tiny patio. Matt is still at jazzfest, finishing up the story he is writing for the Dallas paper and waiting to help Doris with her gear. Fats Domino was supposed to close out the day at the Acura Stage but has been taken to the hospital and a last minute change has moved Lionel Ritchie from the stage on the other end to this one. The music goes on longer than any jazzfest we remember, so Jay and I just enjoy the day from our perches while we wait for word that they are on their way out.

At the end of the day I hook back up with Matt and Doris at her primo parking place and visit with Colleen one last time. Colleen is the epitome of southern hospitality and easy-going style, with a lovely home and a beautiful attitude. We stop one last time at Gina and Noel's and then head back to Doris' apartment west of town. On the way we see Mikimoto, a Japanese restaurant, and we are all hungry. As it is rather late (after 9pm) we are not sure they are still open, but yes they are happy to serve us. Matt and Doris have their picks of cooked seafood, but I select a raw tuna and avocado salad that is delicious and just what I needed. We are all pleased with our choices and after eating we head back home.

Monday

We are leaving today, but now we have to deal with the issue of the bad tire. I didn't mention before that we put the donut tire on the car Saturday and drove it back to Doris's where we left it since then. There was no sense in even trying to find something open on Sunday, so we didn't stress ourselves out by even thinking about it. Matt wants to go back into New Orleans proper to a mom and pop shop that Jay said might be able to help us. As much as I would like to support the local small businesses, it is 15 or so miles back east, we don't know the name of it, there are no street signs, and we don't know if they have our tire or if they will be able to fix it today. I persuade him to let me make a phone call. I find a Walmart in the phone book that is just a few miles to the north and has our tire in stock.

We arrive at the Walmart and are pleasantly surprised to find they have no one in line for the tire bay and they fix us up in a jiffy. While we are waiting we talk to a guy with a young dog, who is waiting for an oil change. This is good because we are missing Hosteen quite a bit by now and both he and his dog are friendly. All in all, the entire affair is fairly painless, and we don't even have time to get impatient or have an argument. Back at Doris's we pack up, say goodbye and get on the road. It is about noon when we leave, so we should be getting into Dallas about 9 or 10 pm. The drive home is blissfully uneventful.

Devastation

Even though we have seen many pictures before we came, I wish I could tell you that these pictures are the exception rather than the rule, but they aren't. Almost every street corner has a pile of debris, and that is now considered normal. There is so much construction that the streets are frequently full of nails and when DJ first returned he had 5 flat tires in two weeks. City services are sporadic. Sometimes garbage gets picked up and sometimes it doesn't. Streets are full of potholes, nails, boards, garbage, Fema trailers abound in front yards throughout the area, and still the people are smiling, helpful, friendly, still in shock possibly, but something wonderful has happened here. The act of losing everything, even while leaving scars that may never entirely heal, instilled something good in these people. We are glad we went. Will we go again? You bet!

Click here to see an interactive map of the Greater New Orleans area showing the flooding as it occurred. It is well worth seeing, and gives you a better perspective of what actually happened. They tell us that the levees are supposed to be repaired to Level 3 strength by the start of hurricane season, which starts next week by the way. Level 5 repairs are not expected to be completed for another two years. If they get another bad storm surge this year they will be done for.

To all the people in New Orleans who were kind and helpful, generous and pleasant, and shell-shocked but still smiling, we salute you and feel fortunate to be a small part of your world.