Odyssey -- Part V

Alabama wasn't a total loss. We stayed the night in Mobile, and though initially my queries of the front desk were met with some confusion ("So, where is the cool part of town where stuff is happening?") we did manage to score a lead on a nice little seafood spot overlooking the Gulf. From there we continued our westward cruise on I-10, detouring onto 90 near Biloxi. We got caught in a very isolated tropical storm. As soon as we crossed into Gulfport, the rains stopped. I tried to keep my eyes peeled for Trent Lott's house, but couldn't find it. There were a lot of posh new condos and homes, next to foundation blocks with addresses painted on them--all amidst trees with branches torn off. Some of the piers out into the Gulf are still pretty damaged, but that federal money sure is being spent. You can tell.

After a while, Mississippi gave way to New Orleans. We stayed with our friend Marcia right in the heart of the French Quarter, which, of course, was spared by the storm and, more important, by the flooding waters from the Lake. But things are different there nonetheless; a muted energy. Pockets and I did our best to inject some funds into the local economy; we took a haunted history tour, the same one I took right before the storm--with twenty other tourists. But this time around Pockets and I were the only ones who showed up. Pretty much the same result when we went out to the bayou in Slidell to look at gators: just me, Pockets, and some lady from Seattle. This is just anecdotal evidence, but the state of tourism in New Orleans and surrounding parts seems pretty grim.

We struggled with the idea of being poverty/catastrophe tourists, but in the end the curiosity was too much. We took a drive through the Lower 9th, with a couple of friends who moved back to the city after the storm. Most of the clutter's been removed, and a furious nature has taken its course--weeds and shrubbery have spread across an expanse of land that used to have homes. Empty blocks in the middle of the city, with the levee walls looming in the back. Hand-painted street signs remain, as do the rescue markings on the fronts of houses. Seeing it on TV is one thing, but it really hits home when you look at the water marks on the old houses that are still standing.

As a total outsider, there's little I can say about the pace of redevelopment in the city, and while you can tell there's something lost in New Orleans, the people--from what I remember--remain the same.