INTRODUCTION The name New Orleans invariably conjures up the succulent aroma of sweet olive, the syncopation of jazz and ceiling fans, and the vision of black-haired, magnolia-fleshed damsels fanning themselves as they sit in white wicker chairs on lacy wrought-iron verandas. La Nouvelle Orleans was the original Dixie, named in the mid-19th century by the hell-raising Kentucky flatboatmen who traded their merchandise in the city for the dix or $10 paper tender minted in New Orleans. Though geographically Southern, it is not a garden-variety Southern city in the sense of Richmond, Memphis, Savannah, or Montgomery. It is more of a Caribbean port city, anchored in the continental United States by what often seems a mere socio-geographical accident. An hour before dawn, the French Quarter becomes mantled in timelessness. The shimmer of streetlights is reflected on cobbled sidewalks dampened by gentle mist. The cries of a trumpet commingle with a few bluesy chords from Luther Kent's finale in the dying hours. On the swollen Mississippi, giant tankers quietly slip down the river towards the open mouth of the Gulf. For a few moments the dull roar of their engines is drowned out by the clanging bell of the riverfront streetcar, which beckons a handful of the night shift from a late-night restaurant. They have stopped to savor conversation, thick chicory-laced coffee, and beignets (New Orleans' famous doughnuts) en route to their beds Uptown. A few blocks downriver, at the 200-year-old French Market, the produce vendors lean against the dull green fender of a Ford pick-up as they sing along with Fats Domino on the radio. New Orleans is an archipelago of ethnicity. Tuning in to WWOZ, the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Foundation jazz station; sucking the spicy juice from the head of a crawfish at an open-air seafood joint; taking a ride on the Algiers ferry at dawn: these are a few of the things that locals and visitors savor as they enjoy this twinkle in the eye of the old Protestant American South. The sensuous and exotic street names of Elysian Fields, Bourbon, Erato, and Desire bespeak a society that is not unsympathetic to the weaknesses of the flesh. William Faulkner once said of the city that it is "a place created for and by voluptuousness, the abashness and unabashed senses." Culture in New Orleans spews from the ground up and is carried away to intoxicate the rest of the world. The city's sultry environs have served as the fertile foundation for the backstreet movers and shakers whose thunder is heard in the worlds of music and food. It is the hometown of a potpourri of celebrities whose talents were fostered in any number of the city's ethno-cultural enclaves: from the queen of gospel Mahalia Jackson, to the darling of New York cafe society, Harry Connick, Jr.; from international opera star Marguerite Piazza to diet guru Richard Simmons; from r&b legend Fats Domino to Emmy Award-winning actor John Larroquette; from renowned musician Wynton Marsalis to writer Anne Rice. New Orleanians prefer to see themselves as part of a festival of cultures. There are more facets to the city's multi-culturalism than there are varieties of hot sauce in a local grocery store. New Orleans is a place where people from all walks of life smile or nod when they pass strangers on the street. People encountering each other on a public bus or streetcar more than three times may feel like they're close enough friends to share a grandmother's recipe for bread pudding. The ambiance and magic of New Orleans is impossible to appreciate at a fast clip. It is a city that gladly relinquishes its secrets to those who take the time to wander. For those who have only a short time between meetings, parades, concerts, or meals, the best thing to do would be to see one area thoroughly, preferably on foot. New Orleans is a loosely connected amalgam of neighborhoods, many of which still have their own curbside vegetable wagons, at least three snowball stands, 10 or so corner bars, a half-dozen combination po-boy sandwich/grocery stores, and a smattering of folks who pass the day stoop-sitting and visitin' with all those who pass and savor the aroma that drifts out of their kitchens. It's possible to spend an entire week in the French Quarter, another wandering through the Garden District and browsing through the antique and junk shops along Magazine Street, and a third enjoying the Uptown area, Audubon Park, and the zoo. The problem is that stepping into any of these areas is much like falling into visual quicksand for the aficionado of architecture and local culture. New Orleans is a city that never quite gives up all of her mysteries. Each trip to a certain street provides just one more layer in a multifaceted and often contradictory paradise of funk and splendor. New Orleans is fueled by diversity. Its neighborhoods are a Crayola box of bright, intense, ethnic influences. On any Friday, old-line businessmen gather at noon at Galatoire's to dip their crusty French bread in the butter sauce just as their grandfathers once did. The people who live in the mansions on St. Charles Avenue are just as likely as those in half of a shotgun-style house in Gert Town to tune in to WWOZ as they drive to work, or to take their kids to watch the bonfires on the levee Christmas Eve. On Monday nights, historically wash day, most families from the Garden District to Chalmette will sit down to a supper of red beans and rice, just as their ancestors did. All households want to own their own shopping cart for household chores. A little girl might make her First Communion at the same church and in the same dress as her great grandmother. It's tradition, and until something a lot better comes along, it will continue to be passed from generation to generation. Excerpted from New Orleans by Bethany E. Bultman All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
