the WHOLE POINT of my YAV year

Since my last post, I have continued the trend of communion twice a week, except this week, I've helped serve it. That's right-- I'm now an ordained Ruling Elder in the Presbyterian Church (USA). This is my first step in figuring out how I'm going to follow this call to serve the church as an environmentalist. I had to make a lot of promises about my commitment to the church and to furthering the church. It was a very sweet and meaningful parting gift from my beloved friends at First Presbyterian Church of Bayou Blue.



My last official day of work was July 23. On Wednesdays I give wetlands presentations to Project Homecoming volunteers, either as a walking tour of Bayou Sauvage if weather permits, or as a lecture at the Volunteer Village. It's been a really cool way to spread the story of South Louisiana and give a little geographic context to the people rebuilding New Orleans.

On Wednesday, July 23, the skies weren't looking promising, and the forecast showed scattered thunderstorms. I was very disappointed to spend my last evening of work, my last presentation, indoors. I was still very excited to talk about the wetlands and environmental conservation.

My talks last about 45 minutes, going over how the landscape of South Louisiana was formed, what has gone wrong with that environment, and what is being done to make it better. I get really, really excited. Sometimes I jump up and down a little. Sometimes I yell a little. But sometimes people find my enthusiasm inviting and come to ask me questions afterwards.

This is how I met Adam. He's from Georgia, and he's really excited about the church. He's really excited to stay with the church and do things in the church. We talked for at least half an hour about all of the different things we've been working on-- energy conservation in his case, natural resource conservation in mine, and what kind of ways we can connect to further this work in the church and beyond.

That is the whole point of this stuff.

The saving the wetlands stuff is important. The ministering to the sweet people of Bayou Blue is important. The intentional community is important. The exploring the incredible city of New Orleans and so much of South Louisiana and learning as much as I could and doing as much as I could is important.

But furthering the church-- I think that's the whole point of this year of service. I'm so glad I could take part in it.

Ten Things I See Every Day in Louisiana

Yesterday morning, I left New Orleans early for Thibodaux for a BTNEP meeting, where smart people talk about good coastal conservation and education. I really, really like that organization (plus they were great hosts for Paddle Bayou Lafourche, the highlights of which were shown to the group, including our bayou yoga which everyone seemed impressed by).

As I drove just over an hour to Nicholls State University for the meeting, I noticed all sorts of things that I'm really enjoying about the springtime drive. Magnolia trees have finally blossomed, and I smell jasmine nearly constantly. I have come to love the winding roads along the bayou, and the sun was shining and the clouds were so fluffy against the bright blue sky. I laughed as I saw a car drive by without a front bumper-- a common sight in and around New Orleans, where people are terrible drivers. It made me think, what things do I see every time I leave Zimpel Manor?

In New Orleans
1. cars without bumpers
2. live oaks lining the streets
3. busted up streets and sidewalks due to said live oaks, among other things
4. people sitting on porches
5. fleur de lis bumper stickers (often on windows because of said lack of bumpers)
6. shotgun two family homes
7. streetcars
8. people standing near intersections, asking for money
9. people exercising on the neutral grounds
10. beads in trees

In South Louisiana, including but not limited to New Orleans
1. bayous
2. sugarcane farms
3. drive through daquiri shops
4. Catholic Church
5. Baptist Church
6. A different Catholic Church
7. Another different Catholic Church (bonus: St. John the Baptist Catholic Church, which confuses me every time)
8. GIGANTIC live oak trees off in the middle of old plantation land, totally unencumbered by power lines or houses, covered in Spanish moss
9. roadkill armadillo
10. people fishing in ditches and bayous along the side of the road

ok, ok, ok, more about South Louisiana because that was a lot of Catholic churches:
11. person playing or blasting music that includes some combination of accordians, fiddles, and/or French language (ok, today I was that person)
12. farms stands full of things that don't grow in New Jersey till July or August
13. old plantations
14. burning piles of tree trimmings or crop residue (sometimes it's just old junk, too)
15. unintelligible signs that I have no shot of pronouncing correctly (French? French pronounced in English? French spellings of German names? NO ONE KNOWS. Well, someone knows, but it isn't me.)

Truth is, I see and hear and smell and enjoy many more things than this every day. I'm constantly looking around, seeing and learning and experiencing new things. All kidding about roadkill armadillo  and missing bumpers aside, Louisiana is lovely.

been busy

For weeks now, I've had all sorts of beautiful blog posts in my head about the many wonderful things I've been able to see and enjoy. I guess I got too busy seeing and enjoying to keep up with writing about it.

For Mardi Gras, I enjoyed Endymion with my host family and took my first walk through the amazing City Park; I went to a parade in Houma just to see and got pelted with beads; I took a bike ride at 6AM on Fat Tuesday itself all over New Orleans, at first in search for Mardi Gras Indians but ultimately just to enjoy families out in their yards, wishing us a Happy Mardi Gras as we rode by...

My dear little sister friend Abi visited on Ash Wednesday through the end of the week. We explored the French Quarter, the Lower Ninth Ward and Lakeview. We planted trees in a big freshwater diversion. We enjoyed awesome jazz at Preservation Hall. Perhaps the least expected part was how we spent International Women's Day: celebrating my friend Kalpana at a traditional Indian baby shower, where the women sang and offered blessings and we feasted on seven different kinds of rice. It was so, so beautiful.

I attended a workshop at UNO called Building Resilience the following week, and met a lot of great scientists, public workers, community organizers, and coastal residents. We discussed physical and human resiliency along Louisiana's coast, which is good and all, but the real point was driven home by Cherri Foytlin, a journalist from South Louisiana, who said, "I don't want to be resilient, I want to thrive!"

I visited Isle de Jean Charles for the first time. What a stunning place, and the people there have been totally written off by the government, who won't acknowledge their nation and build a flood protection system that excludes them.


I don't usually dress up for field work. We went straight after church.

I went to VA and DC for Ecumenical Advocacy Days and, well, let's be honest, to visit some people I adore. Reagan Airport is definitely in my top five, for being easy to navigate, Metro accessible, and a very sweet welcoming committee:


(That's Arlo, watching my plane land. I LOVE HIM. And his parents!)

It was a whirlwind, as my visits to DC/VA usually are. I got to enjoy visits with camp friends, college friends, and one of my cousins. The conference was great, offering advocacy training as well as a chance to connect with others working on issues of eco-justice. I spent a day on Capitol Hill visiting my senators' offices. I even got to enjoy a pretty snowfall. I had a wonderful, wonderful visit.

And now I'm back in Louisiana. I've been focused on this policy brief thing that I'm contributing to, to be presented to the EPA in a week and a half. I was supposed to plant trees in Isle de Jean Charles today with a group of high school students from DC, but instead we had flash flooding and intense thunder and lighting. Slowly catching up as I get ready for a lot more traveling this spring...

If you go to New Orleans, you ought to go see the Mardi Gras (and the wetlands)

On Saturday, I went to Baton Rouge for a meeting of Together Louisiana, a group of churches and civic organizations taking on all sorts of political issues including Louisiana's absurdly high rate of incarceration, the utter madness of the poorly regulated payday loan industry, health care, higher education, and... wetlands and environmental problems. SO many good conversations to be had about the state of the state of Louisiana. Two of the big ones for me-- a breakout session I attended on the environmental issues (you know, kind of the reason I attended the meeting) and an address from a retired Army general.

General Russel Honoré spoke boldly about leadership and fostering a culture of preparedness, as well as our tolerance of the nonsense going on in our government. Ultimately, he is concerned with all of the shady business of poor leadership allowing for Louisiana's natural resources not to be stolen, but to be given away, leaving the state vulnerable to a host of disasters. The point he made that rang clearest to me: Louisiana is a top oil producing state. Why isn't it a top state for education? or healthcare? Why is it among the lowest ranked states in most every social and economic indicator?

Encouraging: you should have heard the "AMEN"s and "PREACH!"es from the crowd. Discouraging: why is Louisiana so far behind in all of these ways when it's been so far ahead in domestic oil and gas extraction for the past 75+ years?

I'm still pondering this gross disconnect.

The breakout session I attended also impacted me, but additionally had a more fun effect on my weekend. My original plan was to drive to Bayou Blue and stay with my bosses so I wouldn't have to wake up so early on Sunday. However, the Wetlands and the Environment session I attended was lead by John Barry, an author, who in addition to his heavy involvement with the policies and politics of coastal restoration, was also the King of Krewe du Vieux in that evening's Mardi Gras parade in the French Quarter. I knew my housemates were all going. Meeting Mr. Barry motivated me to drive back to New Orleans and go to my first Mardi Gras parade.

His talk was really good for me to hear, because he focused on the more political side of coastal conservation that I have not spent as much time focusing on. Did you know that it is actually written into the oil companies' canal permits that they are required to fill those canals back in after their pipes are laid? There are a ton of studies from reputable sources like the US Geological Survey, the Louisiana Department of Natural Resources, and higher ups who have worked for the oil companies that those canals are the leading cause of coastal erosion. Yet, for all sorts of horrifyingly corrupt reasons, those companies have managed to not follow through with back filling or even plugging the ends of the canals. An area the size of the state of Delaware has been lost in the past 75 years, with more disappearing every hour of every day. Instead of the companies, who have been proven to be directly responsible for this and are even legally required to fix this, the taxpayers get to cover the millions upon millions of dollars being dumped into levee construction and other coastal protections that won't matter if the wetlands are gone.

Trees are beautiful and all, but my job can get pretty depressing.

I spoke with Mr. Barry privately about conservation issues after his talk, and also managed to sneak in a question about how one manages to get the attention of a Mardi Gras King to get him to throw stuff (beads and other trinkets are traditionally thrown from floats in these parades). He suggested I stand close to the street, because he is still recovering from a rotator cuff injury.

So I went back to New Orleans, not because I love crowds and crazy parades, but because I am excited about the carnival season and taking in as much of the tradition and culture as I can while I'm here. My housemates and I caught a bus down to the French Quarter (the street cars weren't running as often) and managed to find a fairly uncrowded section of curb on Royal Street. The Krewe du Vieux is one of the few that runs through the Vieux Carré (another name for the French Quarter, meaning "old square"), and is known for being not family friendly.

The crowd was loud but I hung in there to see the King. Krewes often choose kings or queens who are famous for something, so it was pretty cool to me to see someone recognized for their contributions to the coast. The krewe's website talks about how Mr. Barry has worked hard to raise awareness and take action against the government for allowing such a mess to happen to Louisiana's coast. It also points out how Governor Jindal excused John Barry from his seat on the Flood Protection Authority board.


Overall, I'm glad I went to the parade. It was lewd but fun, with amazing brass bands and a lot of clever political statements snuck in, like this float featuring birds covered in oil with words like "incompetence" and "justice" floating around--



I loved the music and even managed to score some beads and trinkets (fully clothed, thank you, I'm pretty sure the flashing thing is mostly myth). It was a really cool turnaround to see someone celebrated for standing up for the coast, both at a formal meeting of activists and in a rowdy setting in which the message was probably lost on most people, but not me. When the King rode by, I was too busy yelling stuff about the wetlands to take a picture or catch a trinket-- he was tossing cups. So here is a picture from the Times-Picayune instead!

the frozen tundra of South Louisiana

I hope wherever you are reading this from, you are keeping warm.


(from here)

This weather feels like January to me. I don't mind wearing a sweater and a scarf. That being said, I realize South Louisiana is absolutely not built for this.

We have been running our faucets as per our landlord's instructions for 30+ hours as of my writing this (the temperature never broke freezing here today). It's not even the sound of the running water that gets to me... you can imagine how this conservationist feels about it, especially in a region where salt water intrusion is such a threat to the water supply! But these homes were built with exposed pipes and very little insulation, and there have been reports of burst pipes all over New Orleans today.

The bayou is in the midst of citrus season, but likely lost the vast majority of their grapefruits, oranges and lemons in these two days of deep freeze. Folks were encouraged to pick fruit on Sunday, but you can only eat and share so much fruit at a time, and not everyone is able to pick too much themselves. This month's YAV service project was to glean in Bayou Blue on the 18th, to share with the community and local food  banks. Instead, it's looking like we'll be picking rotten fruit to keep the trees in production for next year.


As I drove across town to give a presentation last night, I saw a few people on some of the neutral grounds (the grassy median in the middle of most major streets), curled up under modest blankets. I heard there were several emergency cold weather shelters around the city, but clearly some of them didn't get the message. I hope they found out before too long and were able to get there.

I know South Louisiana doesn't have it that bad with lows in the upper 20s. I have my sweet winter coat and a Saints hat that I got for Mike when he was here for Thanksgiving (he didn't think he'd need it in the desert!). But thinking about the local context, the upper 20s are just as bad here as the single digits are at home in New Jersey and the sub-zero temperatures are elsewhere.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow's predicted high of 48 and finally turning off the water in this house!

What even is my job?!

I arrived back in New Orleans yesterday. Even though I'm still trying to figure out which of the four time zones I've visited in the past week I left my brain in, I was back to work today. I met my supervisor at her house to take a ride down to Pointe-aux-Chenes for an evening meeting with a representative from the Intertribal Agricultural Council and the Mobile Farmers Market.

While she was getting ready to go, she asked about my time home and my travels. Somehow we got to talking about how I would go about answering relatives when they ask what I am doing in South Louisiana.

FUMBLE! (Sorry, watching the Saints game. I am back in South Louisiana.) (But also, that describes how I generally feel when trying to explain to people what my job is.)

Really, it's difficult to describe my work. The day to day is always different. Giving presentations, coordinating conservation efforts, planning and taking part in planting projects, connecting different organizations... some days I'm working from home in my pajamas, some days I'm dressed up and sitting in meetings (and some days I'm dressed down, I love working in natural resources conservation), some days I'm covered in mud. I'll let you guess which days are my favorites.

This meeting tonight was really good. There were about twenty people from the Pointe-aux-Chenes (Point-au-Chenes? Pointe-aux-Chien? I've seen it several different ways. Who knows.) to talk about first people's agricultural products. The Mobile Farmers Market gathers products from around the country-- there was blue corn flour and dried cholla blossoms from the southwest, cranberry syrup and organic corn from Minnesota and Wisconsin, silver and beaded jewlery, wild rice (real wild rice, which is very different from what they call wild rice in the grocery stores), salmon from the Pacific Northwest.

The goals of the program are not just reconnecting tribal trade routes and selling goods, but telling stories. The program has revived food traditions for many tribes, regardless of their federal or state recognition or lack thereof. The IAC works to help tribes gain better access to USDA programs, and seeks market outlets for their goods. Some very cool work going on.

I enjoyed sharing a meal and talking with more members of the community, especially since I've been partnering with the First People's Conservation Council. Tonight I met a man who invited me to work as a deck hand on his shrimping trawler this May. YES PLEASE! I have been able to have the most unique experiences here in South Louisiana. Even as a vegetarian, that sounds awesome. First day back, and I'd say I'm off to a good start!

sweet sixteen in Zimpel Manor

Today begins the sixteenth week of our household's complete existence, and my last week in New Orleans before the holidays. We're still getting the same questions about our household being a bad reality TV show or if we've all synched up yet, but we've come a long way.

Our first time all together, at orientation:


Our first meal all together, at Zimpel Manor:


And now? We received our first compliment in response to announcing we all live together, when we went out for wine and cheese a few weeks ago at St. James Cheese Company (where I clearly had a beer with my soft cheeses, thank you). The awesome woman behind the counter celebrated how joyful we were and how awesome our household must be.

She's not entirely wrong. We certainly have our fair share of bumps in the road (this is, after all, New Orleans, and if you've never driven here... I don't necessarily recommend it*). They are new every morning, with additional layers and nuances as time goes on and we discover more permutations of our quirks. However, for a household of eight people, we function reasonably well. I don't believe any of us are starving and we have yet to go over on our grocery budget. We rarely if ever need to wait for a shower or toilet. Even the thermostat wars are really more like peace rallies. We all pretty much point to the same night when we clicked as a domestic unit of sorts: the night Alyssa tried to be my wedding planner.

Since then, we've reached new levels of householdery. For one, we have received mail addressed to Zimpel Manor. Granted, it was from our boss, but who cares. Furthermore, we can now all pretty much identify whose clothes are sitting in the dryer. And speaking of clothes, this happened last week, on the same day, completely unplanned:



(photos courtesy Kalyn)

I mean, it was only a matter of time till Hot Dog Johnny's happened, but even Anna Leigh and Alyssa's shoes looked similar. We may not be totally in synch in the way that most people mean when they ask that question, but we're clearly on some shared wavelengths around here.

Happy Sweet Sixteen, Zimpel Manor, and many more!



*Fun fact: The roads in South Louisiana, especially New Orleans, are terrible. I've heard stories about this being related to the Federal government holding infrastructure money hostage until states raised the drinking age to 21, but whether that's true or not, subsidence, poor drainage and Live Oak roots sure do wreak havoc on the roads here.

Audubon Aquarium of the Americas

I've been having one of those weeks when I don't have much to show for my work. On top of that, my new friend from the Episcopal service corps, Lindsey, had taken today off to come plant trees with me, which was cancelled on account of that neato cold front that swept across the continent today.



So even though I felt like a bum and didn't want to get dressed or leave the house, when Lindsey suggested we go to the aquarium, I agreed. For one, she's cool and generally has good ideas. Second, she found a great deal on Living Social: half price admission! And I knew I'd enjoy it once I got there.

I was right. That place is SWEET.


penguins!


parakeets!


sting rays!


nettles!

And lots of cool fish and an enormous albino gator and some cute otters and some other cool fish and sharks and stuff! I found this display rather curious--



I guess those oil companies can pat themselves on the back for funding a nice tank that shows how oil rigs can form interesting habitats for all sorts of creatures. They left out the part where the oil leaks kill wildlife or how the construction of said rigs destroys wildlife habitat in the first place, etc. etc.

I find it interesting how many oil companies are getting away with murder in the Gulf. Conservation groups and local residents are having trouble holding them accountable for the damages they have caused along the coast. The government doesn't want to hold them responsible, because oil brings so much money into the state... BUT at what cost, exactly?


But, stepping off my Wetlands Advocate soapbox, the aquarium was pretty cool. I can't remember the last time I went to one. Good change of pace in an otherwise pretty quiet week in my little world down here in South Louisiana.

House.

My mom left this morning after a wonderful, whirlwind three day visit. We wandered around the French Quarter, took a trip out to New Orleans East to see Bayou Sauvage, tried on wedding dresses, ate lots of southern Louisiana food (including vegetarian jambalaya (!!!) for me and a lot of different seafood for her), and volunteered at Program of Hope.

We also thoroughly enjoyed the music and legacy of Professor Longhair. (!!!!!) I discovered his music in college-- better late than never. A friend put "Big Chief" on a mix for my birthday one year, and I have walked this earth nearly every day since with that piano riff stuck in my head.



Mom discovered his music on Thursday night when I took her to Fess Fest at Tipitina's, featuring Hugh Laurie and Joe Jackson and many other very, very talented individuals (including a group of high school students with some serious chops). Better later than neverer!


"There are at least 100 people in this room and 10,000 in this city who can do this better than me. Well, *!@# 'em. I got here first." -Hugh Laurie

Seriously, amazing concert. Every musician, every song was just awesome. It's a little disorienting at first to hear Hugh Laurie speak with his native English accent rather than his very well faked-for-TV New Jersey one, but he is a fantastic host and a talented musician. It was very clear to the room that for him, playing Fess's music at Tipitina's was a boyhood dream realized. I love seeing musicians who are just elated to be playing.

Something else cool about the concert: proceeds went to the Tipitina's Foundation, which supports the preservation of Louisiana's incredible music culture. They run a lot of education programs for youth, but they're also partnered with Project Homecoming, where three of my housemates work, to restore the house that Fess lived in, where his daughter and grandson were living until Katrina wrecked it. By this spring, they'll be back in the house, with some renovated space to live in, some renovated space to rent out and some renovated space to serve as a Fess museum. I'm really excited about that this will all be completed while I'm still in New Orleans to see it.

In the meantime, Mom and I decided to go see it as it is now, especially because my housemate Anna Leigh is one of the people working on the house, and could stop and give us a tour. It's coming along great, and they were able to save and refurbish some of the original pieces, including a few windows and the brickwork of the fireplaces. Touring everyone else's job placements the first day I was in New Orleans, I saw a big mantle and his front door sitting in storage over at the Project Homecoming headquarters, waiting to be fixed up and put back where they belong. Kind of cool.





It's exciting to see things being rebuilt. It's also really exciting to take part in it in some small way (so selfless, buying that ticket to hear Hugh Laurie play Professor Longhair's song. What a sacrifice.). (I'm hoping to go in with Anna Leigh sometime soon and lend a hand on one of my days off, too.) It's very cool to see the full circle of things.

This isn't from Tipitina's this week, but it'll do:

Zimpel Manor

Before the eight of us were all in New Orleans together, Alex, Kalyn, Jess, Alyssa, Hannah, Anna Leigh, Sydney and I got all sorts of ridiculous comments about being prime fodder for reality TV. Scratch that, we've lived together for two and a half months and we still get snarky questions and comments constantly-- "Are you all on the same cycle yet?" "Where are the video cameras?" "That must be awful!" etc. etc.

It hasn't been without challenges. Dirty dishes (and clean dishes that need putting away), laundry room traffic, trying to balance work with ridiculous You Tube videos when hanging out in the living room, miscellaneous tiffs over miscellaneous things... we are eight human beings with infinite quirks living in one house, after all.

It hasn't been awful though, honestly. We're slowly moving from strangers somewhat peacefully coexisting into an actual community. We'll still have our disagreements and frustrations as that develops, but overall, I think we're defying everyone's expectations of being an over-dramatic nuthouse.

Last night was a rare weekend evening that we were all home. Actually, it was my first Saturday night home after a month of weekend travels for conferences and retreats. Earlier in the evening, a few of us were sitting around as I begrudgingly scheduled an appointment to go wedding dress shopping with my mom while she visits later this week (the shopping is begrudging, visiting with my mom will be great!). Alyssa and Kalyn kindly offered to help me find the perfect dress, which really turned into a hunt for the worst dress ever:


We liked the see-through bodice and choker. (source)



More see-through corset action, with side train! (source)


The veil appears to have more fabric than the entire dress. This one was appropriately found on a website called UglyDress.com! (source)

The silliness continued to later in the evening. Because I had to wake up early to get to Bayou Blue, I attempted to say goodnight early. The whole house was hanging out in the living room, laughing about... everything.



I had actually gone out to say goodnight in effort to get them to quiet down a little, but I joined in the fun instead. Cuddle attacks and continued joking about awful wedding gowns and bachelorette party plans (at which point I threatened to secretly move out and hide down the bayou for the rest of the year) kept the laughter going.




I ended up forcing myself to go to bed, because despite the extra hour of sleep from the end of daylight saving, I knew I'd be exhausted today if I didn't. But I didn't mind the continued laughter. It was just fun in a quiet sort of way (as in calm and unassuming, most definitely not as in volume) to all be together and laugh about nothing in particular. No matter what reality show drama type expectations people have when they hear about our household, I drifted off to sleep with my ear plugs in, smiling about the strange but happy little community we're creating here in New Orleans.

in loving memory

You can take a cemetery tour in New Orleans. No, you can take cemetery tours here. Seriously, Google that. The stone mausoleums create an interesting landscape as one drives around and through New Orleans, and really all of southern Louisiana. The ground is too low, too wet to bury anything. And while there are countless stories and second line parades to take in, I hadn't stepped foot inside of the beautiful wrought iron gates of a single one, until today.

In the midst of other errands today, I drove past the New Orleans Katrina Memorial on Canal Street. I'm not sure what compelled me to stop and go in, but I did. It was a small, quiet place that could easily blend in with the several other cemeteries surrounding it, the street car line that drives right past it, and the busy intersection just beyond it. There was plenty of parking right in front of the entrance. I was the only person there.

Today marked seven weeks since I arrived in Louisiana, and I have quickly learned that Katrina and every other hurricane in the last decade are immediate on people's minds. I remember meeting with Dave The State Climatologist shortly after Sandy to discuss the progress of my Geography of New Jersey course. He was to teach it the following semester, and we lamented how a lot of the course topics would become wrapped up in the storm. But it's true-- that kind of weather permeates every aspect of your world. I've said it many times, that Sandy was a very different storm than Katrina, but I think I have some appreciation of how that's a wound that won't heal for the people who went through it.

So I walked around.

This understated memorial is the final resting place of countless people who could not be identified after Katrina. That might be the part I struggled with most. In 2005 and after, we were actually incapable of identifying all of the victims. Despite all of the technology in studying DNA and dental records or even just stringing clues together about missing people... and there were still people unclaimed. Lost. Forgotten.

But here they lie. The memorial site was developed out of the old Charity Hospital cemetery, where other unidentified remains and remains donated to medical research were laid to rest. (Charity Hospital closed after Katrina due to the damages from the flooding.) The development was made possible by at least two dozen local funeral homes.


As I walked around the simple sidewalk in the small park, it was amazing how quiet it felt despite being right on a busy road in the middle of a busy city. I could hear a few birds singing. I could hear my slow footsteps. I'm sure I could hear the traffic just a few feet behind me, but I was totally absorbed in the memorial. There were a few wreaths on stands. This one was my favorite, with a fake bass and a fake duck--



Each of the five or so wreaths I saw were old, falling apart, dried up in the sun. I wondered how long they've been there-- I'm hopeful just since the most recent anniversary of Katrina in August, but who knows. The whole place was an interesting juxtaposition between highly maintained landscaping and barely remembered individuals.

Laissez les bon temps rouler!

Something tells me that if Grandma Day sees this, she'll tell me I'm playing with my hair too much, but it was a beautiful breezy morning down by the Mississippi River!

Presenting...

today's adventure: my first presentation!

I got to spend my evening with people from Brigantine, NJ (woo hoo practically my people!) and Murrysville, PA who are currently staying and working in New Orleans with Project Homecoming. One of the houses they are currently working on, under the good supervision of one of my housemates, Anna Leigh, is the home of Professor Longhair. I think that is spectacular. (One of the goals of Project Homecoming is to rebuild communities, not just houses, and what better way to help the community but fix up one of their hometown heroes' homes? Also I think his daughter was still living there before it got beat up by Katrina.)


Now that you have some great background music...

I was worried about the presentation because 1. I am excited about and interested in just about everything, so it's hard to decide what's actually important and interesting for other people who live outside of my brain; 2. It is difficult to convey the dire environmental crisis happening in southern Louisiana's wetlands by walking through a relatively healthy marsh just outside of New Orleans. We talked about how these landforms are made, why they matter, and why they are falling apart. Those were the main points I wanted to cover, and I talked about them all, so I feel ok about it.

I received some good feedback though, so it went all right. I was even able to answer almost all of the questions! Except for this one: how big is the dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico (the area in which nothing can grow or live because of all of the pollution that accumulates at the bottom of the enormous Mississippi River watershed)? Which I am now reading up on... it's awful. It varies throughout the year, but averages between the size of the state of Connecticut and the state of New Jersey.

...

That's a terrible note to end on. But a few more people understand what's going on down here, and at the end of our walk at Bayou Sauvage, there were a few alligators hanging out in the canal, so everyone came away pretty excited. I was talking to people about birds by then, but I'll try to get pictures next time.

Tomorrow's adventure: traveling south with NRCS to plant trees! Along bayous! In the water?
 
This was the picture they sent me when I asked about appropriate attire for such field work, not realizing we would not be working on solid ground...

another morning, another walk

I love morning walks.

Goal for self: learn at least 15 local trees this year. So far:

1. Live oak
2. Sand live oak (yes, that's different)
3. Magnolia
4. Cypress
5. Crepe myrtle

and 6. banana

and I would walk five miles

After working from home for the past few days, I was getting a little bored of these walls. I was still waiting for several people to return my phonecalls, so I decided to go for a walk. I love walking!

Aaand over five miles later, I'm back and sitting down with a cup of tea. Pleasant way to spend the morning.

I really love live oaks. New Orleans is full of them. These ones are in Audubon Park. Charismatic megaflora? Google just confirmed: that's a real term. Yessss.

Frenchmen Street

Last night, the vast majority of our household went out to celebrate Alex's imminent birthday.

On Frenchmen Street. In the French Quarter. (After a quick parallel parking lesson-- Jess is now a pro.)

I was immediately and completely overstimulated, but in a really wonderful way.

There were the strings of little white lights strung over the little art market. The crazy neon glowing lights of the party bus that botched the turn onto Frenchmen and sat in the intersection. The flickering oil lamps on the old, French buildings. The dim lights in Maison and the bright lights on the stage where the band was playing.
 
The smell of my Abita. The smell of the birthday girl's cocktail. Heavily perfumed and cologned people. A man who was apparently homeless and hadn't showered in a while hanging out quietly in the doorway of a business that was closed for the day. The carefully crafted soaps at the market. 

The fun blues revue band playing in Maison when we finally arrived! The roar of the crowd there versus the murmur of people wandering along the street between venues. Other bands in other bars. A happy guy on the street rocking out on his ukulele. One band with a guy beat-boxing through his Sousaphone, which is a really impressive sound.


I didn't stay out very long, because my church, my job, is an hour away and starts at 8:30AM (when the congregation was asked if they wanted to change that, the responses were, "You can't wake up early to praise the Lord?" and, "7:30 would be preferable!"). I'll never be the one trying to stay out for very long, either. However, especially in the face of my persistent vegetarianism (yeah, I think that's going to stick), I am really excited about other aspects of this city's culture.

I am excited to go hear good, live music on other nights of the week.

French, s'il vous plait

On this lovely 90 degree, 90% humidity Labor Day, two of my housemates and I wandered about the French Quarter for a few hours. It was nice to see a little more of the city and enjoy our last day before we all start our jobs.

I've had an interesting time observing French from the moment I crossed the state line from Mississippi on I-59. I'm fairly confident in my complete inability to pronounce anything even vaguely French. I had my spelling corrected approximately 23957 times in the meeting last Friday (ok, just twice, after I wrote down my fifth iteration of the town "Thibodaux"-- Tibido, Tibideaux, Tibideau, Tibidaux, Tibi~~~ (squiggly lines ensued), and after I noticed a specific local forestry term written down on one of the papers being passed around the room). Thankfully, one of the good things that came out of the infamous Peace Corps debacle was plenty of free online French language lessons and resources. Also, I hear there are lessons at my local library. One of my goals for the year: learn enough French that I can at least write things down correctly, or closer to correctly. I'll know I have truly succeeded in this if I can also pronounce street names and business names without the preface, "I know I'm about to embarrass myself..."

I heard a lot more French being spoken in the French Quarter than I expected, oddly enough. People have reassured me over and over that I'll be fine without a background in French or Romance languages (nine years of German and a year of Mandarin? Surprisingly not useful!), but I'm pretty sure I've heard it every day so far. I definitely heard it more on my trips outside of the city, weaving its way into and out of conversations between people whose families have lived in the area for generations.

I guess I was vaguely aware that the French here are related to the French in eastern Canada and northern Maine. This weekend, while down in Bayou Blue, it was pointed out that "Cajun" is a sort of bastardization of "Acadian". It all kind of clicked and I started to think about all of the beautiful things I saw last summer when I drove across eastern Canada with Jamie, Amanda and Katie. The stop signs may not say Arête, but the language is still very present here.

Cajuns were exiled from eastern Canada for failure to pledge allegiance to Britain. They kind of wandered south until they were left alone, settling on the bayou and adapting their culture to the local environment. (This is as opposed to Creole, which are people of France French heritage and sometimes Spanish and Italian.) They invented all sorts of wonderful foods and Zydeco music.

So anyway, French Quarter. It's very touristy, so my lack of French skills was not actually a hindrance. Hannah, Jess and I wandered around the market, checking out local crafts and the myriad of masks, beads and voo doo dolls. We had lunch at Mothers, a legendary po'boy shop where even the cabbage had meat visible in it, so I ordered buttered grits and was plenty happy. Another goal for the year that I am not sure should actually be a goal but am considering anyway: building up to eating food that was cooked with meat in it, but probably not actually eating the meat. So the rice and beans that's cooked with a hunk of ham in it, potatoes and corn cooked in the same pot with the crawfish or shrimp... I'm still really not interested in eating meat, and I'm pretty sure my digestive system isn't either after nearly ten years of vegetarianism, but I really do want to experience the culture as best I can, and I really don't want to turn down the incredible hospitality offered to me here.

I drove, and was happy to do so, to start getting my bearings on the area. The whole Crescent City thing is confusing-- there are streets that go from one side of the city to the other, but they don't exactly run due east-west. Still, we had a pleasant drive, ultimately down Canal Street and Magazine Street back over to our neighborhood, Carrollton. It was a good day.

1551 miles later

• Left Stony Point at 5AM on Monday.
• Pro: I might arrive early to my cousin's and be able to visit a while before I sleep!
• Con: I didn't get to bed on Sunday night till 11PM.
• Dropped Katie off at Newark Airport.
• Pro: One last hour with my beloved Katie before she went to Chinook, MT!
• Con: I had to say goodbye to Katie.  
• Pro: I didn't have to feel bad when that Jack Johnson song I like played.
• Stopped at Wawa in Phillipsburg to enjoy both Wawa and having my gas pumped for me one last time.
• Pro: WAWA.
• Con: I was so discombobulated by the time of day and early onset exhaustion that I don't think I got to truly enjoy the experience.
• Stayed in Kentucky with my wonderful cousin Bekea and her awesome family.
• Pro: THEY ARE AWESOME.
• Pro: They know what it's like to do that drive so they prepared a light dinner which was delicious and perfect!
• Pro: Ainsley is wonderful, smart, helpful, sunny company.
• Pro: Eben is hilarious.
• Pro: Bronwen's smile. Oh my goodness. So contagious.
• Pro: Bekea and Dan are awesome people who I don't get to see much in person.
• Pro: Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Stout
• Con: I had to leave.
• Crossed into Central time in southern Kentucky.
• Pro: This is when it hit me, that all of this is really happening.
• Con: This is when it hit me, that all of this is really happening.
• Waffle House for lunch.
• Pro: hash browns, scattered
• Waffle House for dinner.
• Pro: grits
• Pro: I have no shame. Yes I did just have Waffle House two meals in a row. I don't care what you think.
• Con: I stopped in rural Mississippi for this one, and couldn't understand a word they were saying to me.
• Hit the Louisiana border on I-59 just before 10 PM Eastern time.
• Pro: SO CLOSE!
• Pro: SO EXCITING!
• Con: My heart started racing.
• Arrived to my new home about 9:30 Central time. 
• Pro: Done driving!
• Pro: I'M HERE!!
• Con: Aforementioned racing heart finally slows down and I crashed HARD.

Google Maps, which usually serves me very well, is a lying liar. I was promised two days of 11 hours of driving, but instead had 14 hours on Monday and almost 14 hours yesterday. I did not take three hours worth of stops! I didn't. It started to feel like this, which actually happened when I backed up my hard drive before leaving home:



It was mostly just frustrating to me because I love roadtrips and adventures, but I had no time to stop and smell the geography. It's difficult to really get to know a new place from the interstate. It was neat to see the overall landscape change, but frustrating that I really had to just. keep. going. 

Because I arrived well after dark, I have few impressions of my new place, but I can tell you that our house has an awesome front porch and seven other cool ladies, that I have no clue how to pronounce anything around here, that it smelled like low tide at home as I drove through the wetlands approaching Lake Pontchartrain, and that I'm pretty excited to settle in and get started down here.