Through the looking glass
I am not in New Orleans now. I am 2273.2 miles away in San Francisco, visiting the boyfriend–which is a fairly common activity here, to judge from the number of boys walking hand-in-hand, two-abreast on city sidewalks.
It is very dangerous to be here. San Francisco is enticing and alluring. And seductive. It is seductive to be in an environment where:
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80 degrees is considered hot.
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Primary and secondary school systems appear not only to function, but to fuction well.
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People regard traffic signals as though they were words of widsom from elder relatives, not always obeying them, but usually.
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People live without the stress of hurricanes, preparing as best they can for the earthquake that will one day cleave the city from the California mainland and just hoping it doesn’t hit while they’re on the subway.
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The abundance of cute boys is distracting.
But of course, the city is not without its flaws–namely:
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Its sense of humor, which is tainted by lingering, pungent whiffs of political correctness.
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Its draconian drinking laws and the fact that no one seems to have heard of Pernod.
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The tendency for residents to overuse needy, whiny, ready-to-die-at-any-moment camelias in their landscaping endeavors.
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The aforementioned cute boys don’t talk to strangers.
Not to worry (as if you would): I’m not abandoning New Orleans like certain others we could name. I’ll be back on Sunday for good. After nearly a year in the trenches, though, it’s unusual and refreshing to be in a city where things work as intended. We could learn something from these people–people who rebuilt a uniquely American city in the wake of a major natural disaster, relying on stubborn willpower, community involvement, and a healthy dose of patience.
Related posts:
I’m not quite sure, but I think there might have been a slight jab at yours truly in this post.
Despite all it’s problems, I’d rather be here in Louisiana than somewhere were people are p.c. and everything’s overpriced!
Paul: no, that comment wasn’t intended for you because you haven’t left. Moving to the other side of the lake doesn’t count as leaving; moving to Dallatlantouston does. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still a comrade in arms, a super-secret informant amongst the curiosities of suburbia.
And Judy: I couldn’t agree more. $8 for well-brand is highway robbery.
Richard hits on a very interesting aspect of San Fran — it overcame the earthquake/fire of 1906 and rebuilt despite all the big, ole modern construction equipment we have today. The 1906 earthquake so closely mirrors Katrina in NOLA….political corruption led to the city being burned, citizens moved away in droves, the city had to con them into moving back…it’s amazine. The History Channel did a great story back at the earthquake anniversay earlier this year. I was amazed at the similarities between the earthquake and the hurricane and their effects on both cities. We really can learn a lot from history, if only we were willing.
Liz
I live in SF- I love your writeup, by the way. One thing about earthquake rebuilding: they conscripted people to clear rubble at the point of a gun. I’m not lying! I read about it in several exhibits at the museums here. Also, some of the buildings that survived got retrofitted according to 1906, and I used to work in one. The retrofit consisted of a thick lead pipe going up five floors through the middle. Yeah, I don’t think it’d do much, though it did help the building last through the 1989 Loma Prieta.
Good luck you guys. I love NO. I can’t say the name right, but I love it.
You live in SF for a few years, and you’ll miss the New Orleans weather more than anything. Try a year without heat and thunderstorms. It’s depressing.
I’m reminded of Paula Poundstone’s recollections of moving to San Franciso (and I paraphrase:)
“The first night I moved here the weather was cold and foggy, but I thought, it’s kind of romantic, really - I’ll bust up an old chair for firewood and have a glass of wine by the fire. Six months later, I’m a hopeless alcoholic with no furniture.”
I’m headed to SF in a week, for a few days stay. This is a great advert, and, moreover, a compelling reason to return from which I came. I like it when cute boys talk to, um, er, strangers.