Pictures of New Orleans

So I'm finally publishing some pics from the New Orleans trip.


Here is the jazz funeral that took place my first night there. I received my 1st three strands of beads from this one.


This is part of the memorial to Katrina victims that is in the lower 9th ward. There were 1600 victims. 300 of those died when they fled to a local elementary school, thinking they'd be safe. Instead, they all drowned.


This is also part of the memorial. Thomas, my professor, is sitting in the chair to the right. Clockwise, Paul, then Jackie, then Shane, and then Kelly are around him.


Here is another view of the memorial (sans people). It is an incredibly accurate depiction of what a wrecked home may look like, except as you'll see in later pictures, the concrete steps, porch, and stilts are the only things remaining of most of the destroyed homes. Perhaps this is supposed to be a home in the process of being rebuilt.


Here is a gas station that never re-opened after the hurricane. The price of regular unleaded gas in the lower 9th ward on August 28, 2005, was $2.55 a gallon.


This house was originally attached to the porch steps you see on the right side of the picture.


The steps of 1630 Reynes Street. The tilted house may have belonged to this lot, but there were two sets of steps and only one house left.

A closeup of the house that possibly belongs to 1630 Reynes.

This brick house was across the street from 1630 Reynes. Brick houses held up pretty well to the flood, mainly sustaining roof and window damage. However the house itself held up, the cross next to the window on the right indicates that someone died in that house during Katrina.

A pile of debris at the side of the road. It contains a child's toy frog, a video tape, some broken vinyl records. A photograph. It is unlikely (though not impossible) that this pile has been there since the water was pumped out, but it is very likely that the people who owned what is now in this debris pile still haven't returned home, likely don't have a home to which to return.

The man on the right owns this home. His friend is helping him begin to clean it up. They have only recently been allowed to return to the property, and have received no money or help from the government to fix his home. Even though they weren't allowed back, the man on the left (I regret not having caught their names) said, "We keep the flower beds up because we trying to let people know we coming home." Again, notice this is a brick house. I am ironically reminded of the three little pigs.

The wolf knocked on the door and said, "Little pig, little pig, let me come in." "No, no," said the pig. "Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin, I will not let you come in." "Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in," said the wolf. So he huffed and he puffed and he huffed and he puffed. But the house of bricks did not fall down.

You can see that the center of this building has collapsed. What you cannot see because it is no longer there is that the foreground of this picture is the spot where they found a barge in the aftermath of Katrina. That barge ran into the levee, causing it to break and initiating the great flood that caused all this damage.

This is the inside wall of the levee that broke. You can see the canal to the left. The canal swelled up against the levee, allowing the barge to make its way all the way over and smash the levee down.

Someone painted on the outside of the levee in Spanish, "New Orleans gave me patience and passion."

Here is the levee wall as it appears to those in the neighborhood. Ching Mae and Chris are walking along next to it.

Thomas and John are standing atop the levee with the bridge behind them. Over the bridge is the upper 9th ward. The flood waters rushed into the lower 9th ward and then when they had no place left to go, backtracked and came into the upper 9th. The upper 9th did not see the flood waters get nearly as high as in the lower 9th.

The only organization doing any work in the lower 9th ward is Common Ground Relief, a grassroots organization started up by hurricane survivors and sustained by donations from individuals. No government or larger nonprofit agency has helped at all.

This home is nearly rebuilt, thanks to Common Ground. A 99-year-old woman lived here before the hurricane. She will be 100 later this summer, and thanks to Common Ground, she may celebrate that birthday back in her home.

In front of the home is a sunflower garden, part of the Meg Perry Healthy Soil Project. Meg Perry was one of the first Common Ground volunteers and she died in a car accident in New Orleans in December 2005. Sunflowers draw lead out of the ground, and there are several sunflower gardens throughout the Common Ground work area that are part of this project. It must look spectacular in July when they are all in bloom. Also above the garden notice the solar panel on the wall. This provides the only source for electricity.

This is Malik, founder of Common Ground Relief. The sign in the background says, "I am coming back! I will rebuild! I am New Orleans!" These signs are on homes throughout the lower 9th ward.

A closeup of the mural on the side of the house. It was painted in September of 2006 to mark the one year anniversary of Common Ground Relief. Besides the tremendous rebuilding effort the organization is undertaking, its buildings are rich with artwork.
There is no electricity and no running water in most of the lower 9th ward almost 2 years after the hurricane. As you recall, solar panels help with the electricity bit; Common Ground has set up these barrels to process rain water.

This solar panel heats water so that relief workers may take a hot shower.

No running water means no sewage either. This is a composting toilet. The front of the outhouse contains a barrel of soil, which you add to the bucket once you've done your business.

Here is another concrete porch with steps. The house that belongs to it is in the background. At the top of the picture is the bridge where the levee is located.

This is the front of Common Ground's headquarters. Posted is a list of supplies that are needed.

Next to the headquarters is another soil project.

There is a fine line between being a gawking tourist and someone who wants to truly understand and appreciate the horror and tragedy that occurred in the lower 9th ward. Those who live there believe many things. They believe that the barge was cut loose on purpose to flood the 9th ward and save the rest of the city from the worst of the damage. (This may sound very conspiracy theory to you, but their belief is founded in fact: In 1947, as a major storm approached, members of the upper class living in the French Quarter spent days wiring the levees at the 9th ward before blowing them up and flooding this poor area to save their own home.)

They believe that the city is actively fighting any rebuilding efforts to preserve the damage as a tourist attraction. Tour buses drive through these streets several times a day. Still, it seems to me that all these people want is for their story to be heard, to feel like someone cares about their plight. Once we approached Malik and the two residents on Reynes Street and told them we were volunteers helping to rebuild, they were more than happy to tell us their stories. The men on Reynes talked to us about the best places to visit in the city and wanted to know when we would come back. They don't hate tourists. They hate being an exhibit. Talk to them. Tell them about yourself and ask them questions. You will have a richer experience and they will have a completely different attitude about you being there.

About the only thing FEMA provides is canned water. There was a lot of FEMA water in the upper 9th, but in the lower 9th all I saw was this canned water donated by Anheuser-Busch.

This is where Common Ground decontaminates work equipment every day.

Another piece of Common Ground artwork.

Contact Common Ground Relief's website to see how you can help.

The X on the side of this house is on all houses in the 9th ward. When clearing houses, this was the mark made so that the same house was not cleared again. When someone entered the house, they made the first slash. When they left, they made the second. The top quadrant contains the date of clearance. The left contains the initials of the group or National Guard unit that did the clearing. The bottom contains the number of bodies found. Thankfully, most have a 0 in this quadrant. Many buildings are marked by the SPCA or the Humane Society, indicating dogs or cats found, or bodies of dogs or cats found.

A fire hydrant now at a 45 degree angle.

This is the other side of the building from an earlier picture with the middle collapsed. You can see from this side that it was a church. Locals have returned the steeple and stood it up next to the building.

The night after we went to the lower 9th ward, we took the free ferry across the Mississippi. The building that is second from the left is the World Trade Center, where the Baptists use three floors as the Volunteer Village. We women had the 5th floor for our dormitory.

Later that same evening, there was a parade down Canal Street. Louis Armstrong was apparently the Grand Marshall. Here I got several more strands of beads.

Still later that night, I had a glass of Absinte, a weaker version of Absinthe (which is illegal in the U.S.). Preparing it is quite a production. You pour the Absinte over the sugar cube then light the cube on fire. Finally, you pour a bit of water over the cube to finish dissolving it.

This is the patio I built during my last two days of work in the upper 9th ward. See the two levels? I had to find a concrete slab that would fit into each section and then make sure each slab was level by itself and then level with all the slabs surrounding it. It could take 15 to 30 minutes just to lay one slab.

Okay, so maybe I didn't build the patio all by myself. There were lots of people helping to move the slabs and dig dirt, but it takes a special skill and patience to be able to lay the slabs. Only John (pictured here with the tape measure) and I were the master craftsmen up to this job.

And now I am back home.

With Andy the cat.

And Chloe the cat.

And of course Goober the dog.

May 14, 2007: 10:20 PM

So I've been home for two days now. I just finally downloaded some pictures from my phone so I can post them here, but I'll do them all in one post after I finish writing about the trip.

So when we last left off, I was about to complete my last day of work on the homes we had been working on. Friday at the homes, we continued to work on the patios. The site manager decided they needed to be raised about 6 inches to ensure that water drains properly, so we weren't able to finish them on my last day. I made everyone promise to write my initials in the cement border when they poured it on Saturday.

While we were there Friday, the ice cream man came. Ching Mae and I were walking down to the running water (a hose attached to the side of a house at the end of the block) so I could wash off my hand and examine the finger I had slammed between two concrete slabs. (It was ok, just banged up.) Down the road comes that familiar white truck, blasting the ice cream man music. I was just thrilled at this because: a. It was really hot and humid; b. Just the night before, I had been discussing the merits of screwballs with Paul. (Screwballs for ice cream truck illiterates are plastic cones filled with a creamy Italian Ice that contain a gumball at the bottom.); c. It meant something cold to put on my throbbing finger.

So we all bought ice cream and had a break. I got a red screwball (the best flavor) with a green gumball (the second-to-least favorite flavor). As we were eating, Ching Mae asked me how I knew that truck had ice cream for sale. Apparently, they don't have white trucks driving down the street blasting music and/or ringing a bell in Taiwan, or at least if they do, ice cream doesn't come out of them. Chris and I then got off on a discussion of how in the summertime when we were kids, our moms would send us outside all day long to play in the neighborhood and if the ice cream man came, you had to run back to the house to get money as fast as you could, because the ice cream man wouldn't stop for kids unless you were waving money at him or had an adult with you. So you got to know how loud the bell/song was when it was a block away, so you could book it back to your house as fast as possible and try to weasel a buck out of your mom. Ah, those were the days.

At lunchtime, a truck of Episcopals came and gave us free lunches, which were much better than the lunches provided by the Baptists. The Baptist lunches, while served on monk bread, contained one very thin slice of turkey or ham, and one slice of velveeta-like orange cheese that melted in the hot sun all morning. The Episcopalians sprang for a few slices of meat per sandwich, and they were thick slices, even. The cheese was still the same, however. Oh, well. At least it didn't melt in the sun all morning. Also we got lemonade, the kind you make with powder and cold water. It was yet another thing that reminded me of summer camp, a glass of overly sweet lemonade full of powdery slush at the bottom. Don't get me wrong, it was a good thing. I forgot how much I loved that overly sweet powdery slush.

That night, most of us rented rooms at a hotel so we could stay out past curfew, since it was my last night in New Orleans. Three of us started out walking Bourbon Street sipping on beers, then met up with some others at a daiquiri bar. From there we headed over to a bar with a mechanical bull and pool tables. We shot some pool and bought tickets to ride the bull. Only Shane actually rode, though. We got bored of that place and moved on to the Cat's Meow, a karaoke bar. After hanging out there for a few hours, we made our way back to the hotel, which had a courtyard with a pool. Some of us went swimming in the pool before bed.

Next morning, I went to the airport, got on the plane, and slept all the way to Hartford.

The end.

P.S. Stay tuned tomorrow for the pics!

May 10. 2007: 11:00 PM

Today we were working on the yard of our houses. We cleaned up the builders' trash and regraded the yard so it was nice and even. Some people made stakes and placed them to mark where the fence will go later on. I also participated in putting together a patio for the future homeowners. I learned that I am an excellent stone setter. I can actually eye a level surface. I rock.

Also, I used a jackhammer. I really rock.

We saw a wall raising, wherein they raise the fourth wall of a home. It's a big old ceremony and the builders sign the walls and the company that donated money for the home has someone make a speech.

After we were done for the day, we toured the lower 9th ward. The upper 9th, where we are building, is one of the most devastated, only beaten in devastation by the lower 9th. The lower 9th is so devastated that no organizations will touch rebuilding, and many parts do not have electricity or plumbing, nearly two years later.

Having gone through that area, I now really wish I had a camera that hooked up to this computer. It was just breathtaking, the amount of damage that still exists. Houses had collapsed on their stilts and were leaning at 45 degree angles. There was a home that had the middle of it just washed away. Someone had picked up the steeple from a church that had been destroyed and placed it next to the remains. The worst was a neighborhood a street away from where the levee broke. There were foundations with concrete steps and porches with no homes. About a block away were a series of collapsed houses that had originally belonged to the isolated steps.

We spoke to a homeowner who was out trying to clear his house and yard. He told us that where he lives, the flood waters came up to the transformers on the tops of the telephone poles. He talked about the monstrous obstacles that people from the lower ninth ward must overcome to even be allowed to reclaim their homes. The government won't give them money to rebuild there because it was afraid that they would misuse it. You have to get permission from the city to reenter your home and be able to start cleanup. If your home looks abandoned, they may demolish it on you. This guy said, "We keep the flower beds up because we trying to let people know we coming home."

We went and saw the levee that broke and flooded the area. Someone had spray-painted in Spanish, "New Orleans has taught me patience and passion." Then we accidentally stumbled on the only organization that was rebuilding the lower ninth. They aren't sanctioned or sponsored by anyone because everyone thinks they shouldn't and couldn't rebuild the area.

Thomas, my professor, commented, "They say they can't rebuild the lower ninth ward, but they can send a space ship to Mars?"

The organization was Common Ground, and we happened to come upon the founder. He gave us a tour. He was currently working on the home of a 99 year old woman who lived a block away from the levee. That very site was where the barge landed. For those who don't know, a barge banged into the levee above the lower ninth and caused it to breach. There are conspiracy theories that the barge was let go on purpose so that the poor area would flood and would save the rest of the city. While I don't have reason to believe this theory, I understand where it comes from. In the 1940's, a hurricane came and threatened to flood the rich section of the city. They got together and spent days wiring the levee that was protecting the poor section so that they then blew it up and saved themselves at the expense of the lower class. So there is history in this rumor.

Malik was the name of the founder. They had planted sunflowers because they draw lead out of the ground. They installed a solar panel to create some electricity. They had a solar-heated pool of water for a hot shower. (It was run through garden hoses.) They had a composting outhouse, wherein you go into a metal trash can and then cover it with a scoop of soil. (The metal trash can is built into a bench with a regular toilet seat, and the outhouse had solar-powered lights so you could go during the dark. They had a series of metal drum barrels that processed water and made it fit for drinking. They had (obviously) a compost pile. They brewed what they called Toxic Tea. I don't know what exactly was in it, but it was all-natural and they then dispersed it into the soil so that it would destroy the toxins leftover from the flood.

I'm just not managing to do this group justice. Basically, they were figuring out for themselves how to live in a city where they had no access to electricity, phone, or even plumbing. Where there is probably still toxic matter in the soil and in the groundwater. They need help. Go to Common Ground to learn more.

I cannot wait to post my photos after I get home.
'
And on to another subject . . .

We got home for the day, took showers, ate superb jambalaya, and then took the free ferry across the Mississippi. Best money I never spent. There was a nice cool breeze, we could see Jackson Square from across the river, it was just perfect. Then we walked down to a bar in the French Quarter called the Pirate something or other. I can't remember and can't ask Thomas because he's talking to one of the Church People. Anyway, it was cool. I had Absinte, which is actually a watered-down version of Absinthe, which is illegal. It tasted like licorice. We made it back before 10 PM so no car sleeping tonight. Woohoo!

The end.

May 9, 2007: 8:00 PM

I'm staying in tonight. And here's why...

Yesterday we had our first day on the job site. We are working on two houses side by side in the upper ninth ward, which is fairly devastated, but not as badly as the lower ninth. We were installing insulation in the houses, and then halfway through the day, a donation of drywall showed up. That is great. But donations do not come with deliverymen to unload the drywall, so we all unloaded it, which caused sore muscles on top of the itchiness associated with working with fiberglass all day long. Still, we managed to complete the insulation in both houses, so it was nice to see a task through start to finish.

After showering, we had dinner in our prison, I mean dormitory, last night. The food here is actually quite good, at least the breakfasts and dinners. We had blackened chicken with dirty rice and cornbread. Lunch is two slices of monk bread (it is made by monks, which is why I call it monk bread) with one thin slice of turkey or ham and one thick slice of velveeta-like cheese. It sits in our toolboxes and gets warm all morning so the cheese is melty, adding an extra layer of ickiness to it. Still, it's free so I can't complain too much. And, as I said, the rest of the food is awesome.

We went out for a walk after dinner and made our way up the riverfront to the French Quarter, where we commenced to imbibe a bit. First was a daquiri I took to Jackson Square. We sat on the fountain and stared up at the church (where Pope John Paul II once worshipped, the plaque says). It is so beautiful you think you are looking at an artist's imagination, rather than a real building. Then we made our way over to Bourbon Street and decided to hang out on the sidewalk in front of a bar called Naepolean's Itch. It was a gay bar. There were unisex bathrooms with a fishbowl full of condoms next to them. But it made awesome drinks for not too high a price so we stayed for a bit. A man with a real live miniature pony showed up. I think he only had the pony so he could carry the riding crop he had in his back pocket. Then a man who made balloon animals came along and made me a pregnant poodle. He made everyone else stuff too, we gave him money, and he went away.

Then we continued on down Bourbon Street to the Cat's Meow to sing karaoke. No, I did not sing, but I did see a blind Navy veteran get his groove on to "Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog." It was a load of fun and the crowd was wild for him. As we continued down Bourbon on our way home for the night, a classmate who shall remain nameless (RYAN) veered off course and into another daquiri bar. I chased after him so he wouldn't be left alone, and next thing I knew there were four of us sitting at the daquiri bar. I had had enough to drink; I was just there to keep things headed in the right direction--home. Unfortunately, that did not happen in as direct a fashion as I would have liked; first, we had to stop off for cigaretts, then more beer, then water. By the time we walked to the World Trade Center, it was 10:07 PM and as promised by Bible Thumping Nick, we were locked out for the night. I ended up spending the rest of the night (okay, the rest of the night after another walk on the waterfront followed by a detour to Harrah's casino, where I lost fifteen bucks on the slots) attempting to sleep in a stifling car.

Today, we were back at the same worksite. I had gotten a whole hour's sleep in my real bed before we had to leave for the site. We were working outside today. One group was digging ditches and smashing up old concrete with a jackhammer. I was NOT part of that group. My group was building two boxes that were meant to house a bundle of electrical wires that were hanging outside the house. However, again, we got a shipment that we had to unload. This time it was doors and trim. We moved over a dozen ladders and bundles of leftover fiberglass out of the storage trailer so that we could move the trim and then move the ladders and fiberglass back in. I am learning based on this experience that construction work is a whole lot of moving things to one place so that in a little while you can move them to another.

There was a circular saw and a jigsaw involved in our box-building. Do not fear. I refused to use them because I know how clumsy I am and did not want to go to the hospital to get a finger reattached. As it was, I nearly lost a finger spotting wood for someone else who was sawing. The outdoor work means that tonight I am sunburned, sore, and tired. A bunch of people went back out tonight, but not me. I'm going to maybe stroll down to the riverfront for a beignet and cafe au lait. Maybe.

May 7, 2007: 10:30 PM

Well. To start, I have lost my digital camera. Don't worry--it's at home, just not with me. So I will have to post my pictures from the trip later.

The flight down was good--everything was on time and there wasn't any turbulence. After Ryan and Karen picked me up at the airport and I dropped my stuff off at the volunteer village, we went for a walk up to the French Quarter. There was a jazz funeral and we got (fake) Mardi Gras beads thrown at us, so that was cool.

Then we had to return to the volunteer village and have Orientation. The village is set up in the World Trade Center, which was basically wrecked during Katrina. They are letting us use 3 floors of the building, and the rest of it contains businesses, foreign consolates, and tv stations. There is a Boys Floor and a Girls Floor. The third floor allows comingling of the sexes, but we are required to "dress modestly." This is a very religious place, the volunteer village. The other major group here is a Canadian Baptist church. They go out in the evening to "spread their message." I daresay they don't meet with much success, as the WTC is right next to the French Quarter. There are Bibles everywhere around the dormitory.

But I digress...


The Orientation. We got the Rules. There are to be no boys on the 5th floor, and no girls on the 4th floor. We must not have any food or beverages on the dormitory floors either. Except water. If the water is in a sealed container that has a label indicating it's water, so that they can tell it's nothing else in the bottle, "like Coke," he said. But he really meant like liquor. We are not allowed to speak in the dormitories after 11 pm. We must be back to the building by 10 PM on the dot, or else we will be locked out for the night. We must wear our volunteer ID badges at all times while in the building. We are not to drink while we are out of the building. Well, actually, our fearless orienter, Nick With The Cross Visible Around His Neck, told us that while he cannot tell us not to drink while we are out in the evenings, he can tell us that we will be kicked out of the building (he said this last part slightly gleefully). He repeated the fact that he could kick us out at a moment's notice several times.

They don't like us much here. They can tell that we are Northeastern Liberal Heathens. I wonder what they would do if they found out that one of our group members is gay. Also we brought a black guy with us. He's the only one in the whole building. And a Taiwanese girl.

So we proceeded to walk on over to the French Quarter and have several drinks. And dinner. I had a creole shrimp and crawfish (insert french word here that means brown slightly spicy sauce). And a martini. And a Bloody Mary. I don't normally drink Bloody Mary's (Maries?), but down here they are yummy! Like a gazbacho soup, really, just with vodka in. We had many laughs making jokes about the many ways we could get ourselves kicked out of the building, and then we planned how many nights we were willing to pay hotel prices for so we could stay out past 10.

At one point as we were walking, Karen asked me if I'd like to go out to some blues club one night. I looked up, pointed, and said, "You mean like the House of Blues?" (which we happened to be right in front of).

So now I am back, locked in for the night. I really should get to bed since we are getting up at 6 tomorrow morning. Sorry about the no pictures thing. I'll have that fixed by the UK trip.

May 7, 2007: 2 AM

This is my dog, Goober. My friend Rose will be watching her while I'm in New Orleans. I've finished packing--except for socks, which I must buy on the way to the airport later. I graduated from graduate school on Saturday, so it's been a very busy weekend for me. My occasional insomnia has been bugging me for the last couple of weeks, and tonight is no exception. So I figured I would post my first entry on my New Orleans trip. I'll be leaving at noon tomorrow to spend five days helping to build houses. Stay tuned to see what happens next.