It's been a while.

I miss my home. It's warmer there.

The Layering of Characters

It’s hot again. The heat sits on my shoulders like massive weights pushing me deeper into the soles of my shoes. Oddly enough, it seems to be cooler outside in the heat than inside my house. Due to financial reasons, we have cut the air conditioning during the day and limited its usage to the evening, restricting airflow to fans, pushing the heavy heat nowhere. The air outside is stagnate, but the occasional breeze is like a “well-done”, for having survived the moment of oppression once more in the enduring heat. I tire quickly of waiting for the next breeze and decide a bike ride is in order. This allows for a constant rush of air, making me believe I am somehow cooler.

As I maneuver through the streets of Bywater, I am distracted from the heat for a moment by the rows and rows of shotgun houses. I start to notice the finer details of debris and blight that I am confronted with on a daily basis, something a constant and blatant as the heat. The layers of paint peel away from the siding of the shotgun, revealing the true state of the worn barge wood beneath. The state of the structure offers its history shamelessly and it allows itself to be read like an open book without discrimination or regret. The stoop sags in the middle, speaking to its overuse of constant pedestrian traffic over the years. I indulge my daydreams about the past of this house, which reveals itself so freely. I wonder what its walls have seen, how it has survived triumph and tragedy, gain and loss; each layer having its own complete story to go along with it, its own experiences. I look around at the similar homes, arranged tightly along the street. The street reveals itself, as the houses do and the landscape of the scene is unapologetic. The siding, the stoops, the homes and the street are saying, without words, “I am here, I exist as I do, I need no justification.” Why are the characteristics of what may seem abandoned, so absolutely beautiful to me? The more I think about this, the more I understand the beauty is not only physical, it comes from something deeper. The beauty comes in how these houses have been the canvas for the story, the method of relaying the stories. It’s the people that have been the authors of these stories, leaving pieces behind, adding layers to the narrative that is this house.

Just as the houses relay the story of the people, the people relay the story of New Orleans through their interactions with their community. The sense of community is strong, be it physical or psychological. Is it the architecture; the housing situated on the street, the density of the houses, or the common denominator of the shotgun that creates this communal sense? Or is it something more, an unabashed ability to be whoever you are, without having to justify yourself; an ability to be accepted by your community regardless of your scars, blemishes or peeling paint?

Throughout my four months of residency in New Orleans, I was able to ponder these questions of the utter unique quality that is this city. My experiences have led me to believe that one can never truly understand this quality, but only to be completely emerged in it, you know you are a part of it. Much like the community, one understands they are a part of it without having to be told they are. “A community is a place where people live and associate on the basis of certain shared myths or assumptions about the world.” A community like Bywater forms when the common bond of unique characters come together. The physical characteristics of the houses are a hint of the physical characteristics of the people. The worn and peeling paint, the sagging stoops and the lazy, but intense heat are, visually and physically, ways I could begin to describe the people of my neighborhood. There are specific characters you begin to recognize with frequent visits to Frady’s or the coffee shop. There's the main that sits outside the Bywater Community Church on the corner of Pauline everyday. His story always intrigues me, for he can always be found on the corner, smiling brightly, looking a bit weathered as if he’d been there for years. There’s the woman at the coffee shop with dark-rimmed glasses and a ragged cardigan sweater. She is always cheerful as I ask for my usual large coffee; she miles and hands me my change and I notice the dirt under her fingernails. The people are able to be who they are because it is ok to be yourself in this city. With specific characters like these filling my days in the Bywater, I am happy to feel a part of something special, where no matter what I do, it’s cool to be myself. One particular experience in which I knew I could make this place a home for myself happened one night at the local bar, Vaughn’s, located only a few blocks from my home. It was a typical Thursday night in the Bywater, hot and muggy, the air smelling of salt water. Kermit Ruffins was playing his usual night and we decided to go check it out. We squeezed into the tiny bar, the atmosphere full of laughter and talking while Kermit was amazing on the trumpet. We danced all night and enjoyed free red beans and rice at the break. I felt so happy to be able to share an awesome night with my friends and neighbors. I knew this was a place where people knew what good music and good food was and what it meant to be a part of a community; all I need to keep me satisfied.

My story begins as a new import into the city of New Orleans, as an architecture student ready for new opportunities and experiences within the city and within my field of study. I never quite knew of what I was really getting myself into, but I knew it would be an experience I would never forget. My initial thoughts of New Orleans were small bits of information strewn together from what I had seen on television and in movies. It was a combination of the scene of Mardi Gras and Bourbon Street and a series of events concerning the flood and the damage left behind. I was in no way prepared for the surge of information I was about to receive.

Most of my experience of the city happens on my bicycle. I am able to feel more a part of the city when completely immersed in it. Removing myself from the confined interior of a vehicle, I am able to be a part of my surroundings. Riding my bike is a daily ritual in which I can experience the city on a completely new scale than what I was used to before New Orleans. My usual route involves my ride from my home to studio and surrounding areas within the Bywater. There is something particularly intriguing to me about this neighborhood. Its mystique comes from the rows of shotgun houses and friendly faces that line the street. Bywater is the kind of neighborhood you might find hard to locate in any other context than New Orleans. The ambience of the neighborhood is a part of the context of the city. It is a response to the history, the climate and the people of the city.

According to the Bywater Neighborhood Association, the neighborhood began in the early nineteenth century as a Creole, downriver, suburb of the original city of New Orleans. It is approximately 120 blocks, located to the east of the French Quarter. My ride takes me along Royal Street, where uneven and patched pavement takes my eye from the shotgun-line street for a moment. The shotgun is the typical Bywater house; it is about 67% of the housing stock here. Built as an accommodation for the small lot size, the shotgun has a narrow, linear set-up. Most shotguns are single, but can be found as double shotguns, like the one I live in, or even camelback shotguns. The density of the houses is evident in the façade of the street. The houses are packed tightly, leaving only a small, narrow alleyway between. The houses come in a variety of state. Some are worn with sun-damage and age, paint faded and peeling, while others are vibrant, colorful and newly refurbished. It seems to mimic the people of the Bywater, where no one demographic seems to represent itself over another. This neighborhood is so diverse, both physically in the buildings, but also in the specific characters that live here. People are out on their stoops, talking and relaxing. The houses’ position directly on the street allows for the interaction of the residents with the street itself. The houses are physically a part of the street, almost forcing the resident to participate in the community around them. It presents the perfect opportunity for the community to come together in a social setting.

The ritual of riding my bike everyday seems to make me a part of this community. As I pass another rider, I’ll wave and nod, like a secret handshake because we are a part of a smaller community in itself. It’s like I am a part of an unspoken society where my membership is known, but not official. I find so intriguing the people of this city and their ability to allow people so different from themselves into their community. I think the difference among people is what actually makes them the same. New Orleans’ characteristic of comfort and its ability to receive everyone makes it so culturally interesting. It makes me want to look deeper into the people of New Orleans to try to understand what it really is about them and their city that makes each so unique.

On a humid, sunny day in particular, I was able to talk with a local of the Bywater area. She was a local, not a native of New Orleans, but she still had the essence of New Orleans about her. She was able to be the culture and the attitude of this city just by simply being here. With this meeting, I was able to get some insight into the people of New Orleans with thought about this connection between the city and its people; its influence on the attitude of the people.

Chartres runs along the Southern perimeter of Bywater, hugging the river. I often find myself along this main stretch of road, riding slowly to absorb my surroundings. Bywater is a very dynamic neighborhood, home to people of many economic, ethnic, and cultural backgrounds. Chartres is home to an interesting art scene, dotted with artist’s studios and the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts. This provided me with an opportunity to immerse myself into this aspect of New Orleans for a moment. I stopped into Dr. Bob’s Studio, an enormous plot of land dedicated to the art and sculpture of Bob Shaffer. A local since 1958, Dr. Bob has been producing artwork evocative of the spirit of New Orleans, his famous “Be Nice or Leave” plaques can be found all over the city. I was able to visit his studio and take in his vast collection of work and speak with a co-worker about her life as a New Orleanian in a very specific community, like Bywater.

I came upon Lisa at her workspace, touching up small wall hangings of typical New Orleans architecture, with loud, vibrant colors of yellow, green and fuchsia. Lisa was laid-back, friendly and willing to share with me her story. Lisa came to New Orleans from New York City in 1988 and settled in New Orleans. She and Bob had been friends before her move and she was able to begin working with him after she tired of working as a bartender. I asked her about the differences she noticed here from those in New York. “People are wrapped up in what they are doing, but not so much that they aren’t involved in the community. There’s a spontaneity about the people and their ability to live life.” It’s easy to remove yourself from a community in the individual world we live in. Much of how we live is involved in the independence we have, removed from the people around us. New Orleans is different; something makes it hard to be isolated in this city, for the houses tend to merge directly into the streets. Be it the architecture, the people, or the combination, a community exists and thrives.

I asked Lisa about the architecture in the city, specifically, Bywater, she said that “absolutely the scale of the housing and walkability of the neighborhood allow for the social community to thrive.” Preserving that is important to her. The homes are dense and they rest on the street, making it impossible to be isolated from the goings-on around you. Lisa was able to tell me a little about the attitude after Katrina and the way it has changed, but still remained. I asked if it was easy to come back from a tragedy like the storm. She told me that for Bob, in particular, it was easier because he had so many people rallying around him. People were interested in the spirit of New Orleans, something he represents very clearly in his work, and he was able to draw on the attitude of New Orleans to regain strength. I think that without this attitude, New Orleans might not have been able to recover.

This innate sense of community is apparent whenever I walk down the street, take out the garbage or enjoy a sit on my stoop. Lisa was able to confirm my perceptions of the community evident in New Orleans. She was able to relay to me her story openly and honestly, without feeling she had to justify herself. Her story exposed her life as an artist of Bywater, the layers peeled away to reveal her story about life as a person of New Orleans. Lisa’s ability to speak so openly with me was refreshing.

Speaking with Lisa helped me to start to think about the way these communities are formed. How is it that so many different people can come together and form such a tight-knit social bond? I began to look into the history of the Bywater area to understand this unique mix of people living so closely together.

At the time of the Louisiana Purchase, the population of New Orleans consisted of French Creole, Black and Anglo-American in that order. Much of the French and free Black population came through immigration from the French West Indies via Cuba.
The city's French Creoles, members of the old ruling elite and the newly arrived Anglo-Americans, disliked and distrusted each other. The newly arriving Americans settled in the areas upriver from the original settlement, while the French Creoles and the free Black population continued to reside in the Vieux Carre, Faubourg Marigny and the newly subdivided areas downriver. Also many Irish and German immigrants also settled in this downriver area. Originally, Bywater was sugar plantation land, which was subdivided and settled by Germans, Irishmen and Slavs. Many of their descendants still live in Bywater today. The onslaught of the cotton trade helped the neighborhood develop along the river to accommodate for the large cotton presses.
By 1860, about 20% of the population of New Orleans was German immigrants. Their residence was concentrated below Faubourg Marigny to such an extent that some neighborhoods were referred to as "Faubourg des Allemands." Several churches serving Germans were established in the area between 1840 and 1860.

In 1896, the Board of Commissioners for the Port of New Orleans (Dock Board) was established by law. They rebuilt and expanded the city's port facilities through 1910. Then they sponsored construction of the Inner Harbor Navigation Canal on the grounds of the Ursulines Convent. This canal would link the Mississippi river with Lake Pontchartrain and eliminate the need to navigate to the mouth of the river. The canal, which was completed in 1921, was also intended to stimulate industrial development along its banks. In 1923 the canal was connected to the river by locks. The canal isolated the downriver neighborhoods and formed a physical boundary for Bywater.

During the Great Depression, Bywater became a slum, but as the French Quarter and Marigny made improvements, the lower rents and cheaper cost of living of Bywater made it attractive to artists being pushed out of the higher-priced regions of the city. World War II stimulated some growth in the city's economy, including the Naval Facility adjacent to the Canal commonly called the "Port of Embarkation." This facility still serves as a Navy Base and is home to the Panama Canal Commission.
In 1947, a group of businessmen promoted the area using the name Bywater. The name has remained ever since. Due to its influx of immigrants and working class, the people of the Bywater vary greatly. There is no one race, ethnicity, mean income or standard, only a multiplicity of people. It’s interesting to find so many different people in one small region of the city living together, and to be such a close community on top of that.

As I continue my journey by bicycle, I am still fully immersed in the city. The heat radiates off the concrete, making me feel sticky and hot, but somehow, I feel refreshed, for I feel that I understand something not everyone has the opportunity to feel. I am a part of an amazing city where people are able to be who they want to be regardless of who they are. I am in a city where rows and rows of tightly packed shotgun houses reveal something about the people. The density relates to the relationship the people have with each other and the visual characteristics somehow mimic the physical characteristics of the people. By speaking with local New Orleanian’s and learning about the history and culture of this city and in particular regions, I am able to understand why the city is how it is. Though my journey comes to a close, I will forever be fascinated by New Orleans and hopefully, I will be able to keep this journey with me, finding new and spectacular ways that New Orleans has allowed me to be a part of its community and to understand it’s unique quality.

WWOZ

Continuing on my quest to identify the attitude that defines a New Orleanian, I was led to speak with Judy Wood, a show host for a local radio station in New Orleans. WWOZ is known as the New Orleans Jazz and heritage station and is broadcast al over the world. Its popularity comes from its purity and loyalty to playing local musicians and genres of music of New Orleans. Their strong pride for the city and its music led to look at what it is that makes New Orleans so special according to the station themselves.

Judy specializes in contemporary jazz and is highly involved in the local music scene in New Orleans. She has been in New Orleans since 1973 and after her children moved away, she decided to stay in New Orleans. I asked what it was that really kept her here, and she said it was the music. I think that says a lot about the importance of music to the life of a New Orleanian. Music has a power here that holds the people together. She started going to Jazz concerts when she first arrived and was captivated by the music. She became very involved in the community through city government and through music. She describes the music as a part of the New Orleans culture. “People here grow up with the music; they hear it in the womb.” She says there is a specific beat of New Orleans that you can’t find anywhere and that translates to the people. The energy of New Orleans is unlike anywhere else. She told me a story of an experience in the French Quarter she had the other day in which a man was extravagantly dressed marching up and down the street, entertaining everyone around him. Her response was, “only in New Orleans.” I think this says a lot about what is acceptable here might not be in other parts of the country. Things happen here that might not be able to elsewhere. People seem to be more sure of themselves and who they are and are able to show themselves in ways they might not be able to somewhere else. Judy says New Orleans literally “sweats culture” thanks, in part, to the heat, but also thanks to inhibition and freedom New Orleans allows. This ability to have this freedom helps support a strong community and bond among the people.

I wanted to narrow my focus for this final paper to be able to really learn about New Orleans on a more specific level. I am intrigued by the idea of community present with the people of New Orleans. There is an unspoken sense of community present in the events and rituals of New Orleans. I want to know about those rituals and identify what it is about these strong ties people have to their city and to each other that support this idea of the social and cultural aspects of New Orleans and its people. Hopefully through more investigation and identification of these rituals on different scales and both formal and informal, I will be able to have a better understanding of what that mystery of New Orleans really is.

A Person of New Orleans

The peeling paint reveals the truth, just as the people are willing to reveal their story. I was able to continue my look deep into the people of New Orleans this week with thought about this connection between the city and its people; its influence on the attitude of the people. I received some insight into this attitude or lifestyle through an interview with a local New Orleanian. I got just a little closer to this persistent question of mine: What is it about New Orleans?

It’s hard for me to come to New Orleans only after two months of residency and really try to dissect the meaning behind the psychology of the local. I can immediately notice clear aspects of a local: a comfortable, friendly demeanor, the sense of a strong community, the acceptance of difference, and the immediate connection with any stranger. But, my quest is for how and why the people are they way they are, more so here than any other city I have found.

I was able to talk with a local of the Bywater area. Chartres runs along the Southern perimeter of Bywater, hugging the river. I often find myself along this main stretch of road, riding slowly to absorb my surroundings. Bywater is a very dynamic neighborhood, home to people of many economic, ethnic, and cultural backgrounds. Chartres is home to an interesting art scene, dotted with artist’s studios and the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts. This provided me with an opportunity to immerse myself into this aspect of New Orleans for a moment. I stopped into Dr. Bob’s Studio, an enormous plot of land dedicated to the art and sculpture of Bob Shaffer. A local since 1958, Dr. Bob has been producing artwork evocative of the spirit of New Orleans, his famous “Be Nice or Leave” plaques can be found all over the city. I was able to visit his studio and take in his vast collection of work and speak with a co-worker about her life as a New Orleanian in a very specific community.

I came upon Lisa at her workspace, touching up small wall hangings of typical New Orleans architecture, with loud, vibrant colors of yellow, green and fuchsia. Lisa was laid-back, friendly and willing to share with me her story. Lisa came to New Orleans from New York City in 1988 and settled in New Orleans. She and Bob had been friends before her move and she was able to begin working with him after she tired of working as a bartender. I asked her about the differences she noticed here from those in New York. “People are wrapped up in what they are doing, but not so much that they aren’t involved in the community. There’s a spontaneity about the people and their ability to live life.” It’s easy to remove yourself from a community in the individual world we live in. Much of how we live is involved in the independence we have, removed from the people around us. New Orleans is different; something makes it hard to be isolated in this city. Be it the architecture, the people, or the combination, a community exists and thrives.

I asked Lisa about the architecture in the city, specifically, Bywater, she said that “absolutely the scale of the housing and walkability of the neighborhood allow for the social community to thrive.” Preserving that is important to her. The homes are dense and they rest on the street, making it impossible to be isolated from the goings-on around you. Lisa was able to tell me a little about the attitude after Katrina and the way it has changed, but still remained. I asked if it was easy to come back from a tragedy like the storm. She told me that for Bob, in particular, it was easier because he had so many people rallying around him. People were interested in the spirit of New Orleans, something he represents very clearly in his work, and he was able to draw on the attitude of New Orleans to regain strength. I think that without this attitude, New Orleans might not have been able to recover.

This innate sense of community is apparent whenever I walk down the street, take out the garbage or enjoy a sit on my stoop. I can’t help but feel immersed in the attitude of New Orleans. Lisa was able to confirm my perceptions of the community evident in New Orleans. She was able to relay to me her story openly and honestly, without feeling she had to justify herself. Her story exposed her life as an artist of Bywater, the layers of paint peeled away to reveal her story about life as a person of New Orleans.

Peeling Paint

It’s hot again. The heat sits on my shoulders like massive weights pushing me deeper into the soles of my shoes. Oddly enough, it seems to be cooler outside in the heat than inside my house. I’m assuming it’s the fact that we have, due to financial reasons, cut the a/c during the day and limited its usage to the evening, restricting airflow to fans, which seem to push the heavy heat nowhere. The air outside is stagnate, but the occasional breeze is like a small, erratic prize for enduring the heat. A “well-done”, for you have survived the moment of oppression once more. I tire quickly of waiting for the next breeze and decide a bike ride is in order. This allows for a constant rush of air, making me believe I am somehow cooler.

As I maneuver through the streets of Bywater, I am distracted from the heat for a moment. My thoughts of igloos and glacial ice caps are interrupted as I pass the rows and rows of shotgun houses. I start to notice the finer details of debris and blight that I am confronted with on a daily basis. The layers of paint peel away from the siding of the shotgun, revealing the true state of the barge wood beneath. The state of the structure offers its history shamelessly. It allows itself to be read like an open book without discrimination or regret. The stoop sags in the middle, speaking to its overuse. I indulge my daydreams about the past of this house, which reveals itself so freely. I wonder what its walls have seen, how it has survived triumph and tragedy, gain and loss; each layer having its own complete story to go along with it, its own experiences. I look around at the similar homes, arranged tightly along the street, others, more recently refurbished, are not so willing to reveal themselves at first glance. The street itself reveals its scars and blemishes freely, without shame. It’s as if the scene of the siding, the stoops, the homes and the street are saying, without words, “I am here, I exist as I do, I need no justification.”

This brings up so many questions about the state of these houses. Why is it that the houses look they way they do? Why are there so many layers to this scene? Why are the characteristics of what may seem abandoned, so absolutely beautiful to me? The more I think about this, the more I understand the beauty is not only physical, it comes from something deeper. The beauty comes in how these houses have been the canvas for the story, the method of relaying the story. It’s the people that have been the authors of these stories, leaving pieces behind, adding layers to the narrative that is this home.

Just as the houses relay the story of the people, the people relay the story of New Orleans. The sense of community is strong, be it physical or psychological. Is it the architecture; the housing situated on the street, the density of the houses, or the common denominator of the shotgun that creates this communal sense? Or is it something more, an unabashed ability to be whoever you are, without having to justify yourself; an ability to be accepted by your community regardless of your scars, blemishes or peeling paint?

Three Distinct Neighborhoods in Forty-Five Minutes

While living in New Orleans has certainly given me a change of perception about the city, I have started to notice finer details about the definitions between areas within the city. Whether these definitions, or boundaries, are intentional or not, they present themselves rather clearly to me. The boundaries within New Orleans are not physical in the sense that there are fences and walls separating neighborhoods, but they exist in the symbolism of each. According to Greenbie in his article, Village Space: Fences and Neighborhoods, “There is a reason to believe that fences are just as important to neighbors, even though ‘fences’ are often conceptual or symbolic boundaries rather than physical walls or visible edges.” It’s the boundaries of symbols that separate the Bywater from the French Quarter, the French Quarter from Uptown, and Uptown from Bywater. These boundaries are important because they provide a sense of community, of security of place. While my mode of transportation remains bicycle, I am able to really get a sense of boundary while on my way to my friend, Gulu’s house. My ride usually takes about forty-five minutes from the Bywater, where I live, through the French Quarter, and on to Uptown, where Gulu lives. Throughout this journey, symbols present themselves blatantly in most cases, but other instances they are more subtle, making the journey about the layers of the symbols to create these boundaries.

My journey begins in Bywater, on the corner of Pauline and Royal. It’s a typical, humid afternoon, but evening is fast approaching, soon the humidity dissipate and a cool breeze will take over, making this ride much more enjoyable. Bywater is the kind of neighborhood you might find hard to locate in any other context than New Orleans. The ambience of the neighborhood is a part of the context of the city. It is a response to the history, the climate and the people of the city. According to the Bywater Neighborhood Association, the neighborhood began in the early nineteenth century as a Creole, downriver, suburb of the original city of New Orleans. It is approximately120 blocks, located to the east of the French Quarter. My ride takes me along Royal Street, where uneven and patched pavement takes my eye from the shotgun-line street for a moment. The shotgun is the typical Bywater house; it is about 67% of the housing stock here. Built as an accommodation for the small lot size, the shotgun has a narrow, linear set-up. Most shotguns are single, but can be found as double shotguns, like the one I live in, or even camelback shotguns. The density of the houses is evident in the façade of the street. The houses are packed tightly, leaving only a small, narrow alleyway between. The houses come in a variety of state. Some are worn with sun-damage and age, paint faded and peeling, while others are vibrant, colorful and newly refurbished. It seems to mimic the people of the Bywater, where no one demographic seems to represent itself over another. This neighborhood is so diverse, both physically in the buildings, but also in the people that live here. People are out on their stoops, talking and relaxing. The houses position right on the street allows for the interaction of the residents with the street itself. I give my usual smile and nod to the people I see as I cross over Esplanade Avenue.

The tree-lined Esplanade Avenue begins to reveal a different environment than Bywater. As I physically leave the 9th ward and enter the 7th ward, I noticed more than just a nominal change. This marks the beginning of the French Quarter. The pavement begins to even out and my ride becomes smoother. My perception is heightened as I maneuver between cars on the narrow street, feeling a tighter, more enclosed sense of the buildings as they stretch above me. The architecture is on a larger scale, Spanish in style, with ornate, wrought iron balconies. Royal Street, in particular, is home to many art galleries located on the first level and residential on the upper levels. People walk slowly on the sidewalks, looking intrigued, cameras in hand. I immediately assume they are tourists. Above the street level, people are on the balconies, watering plants and observing the people below. While the French Quarter is home to the tourists who visit each week, it is also home to the people whose families have been here for generations. The streets of the French Quarter are slightly more gray than those of Bywater, from heavy traffic and grim of the late night parties. I can hear music coming from one of the bars a block away, on Bourbon. Bourbon Street is the quintessential New Orleans experience for most tourists and even locals, who come looking for a good time. While I try to smile and nod, like I do my neighbors in Bywater, I tend to be ignored for the most part. I accept this because my perception of the role of people in the French Quarter is the one of tourist. That close, neighborly attitude is not present, but replaced with a distant, alien feeling of the unknown. I continue to move through the narrow streets, and I come to a stop at Canal Street.

Canal Street’s wide boulevard takes some time to cross, as I must move across several lanes of traffic where Royal now becomes St. Charles Avenue. I ride through Lee Circle and under the interstate and enter another new environment, Uptown. The street is wider and less enclosed than in the French Quarter and even in Bywater, for it accommodates a neutral ground and streetcar track. It is much busier, as cars ride past me at a constant rate. It’s hard to take my focus away from dodging small holes in the pavement and staying clear of the traffic. There are people also riding bikes along St. Charles in much with the same demeanor as myself. Trees are lining the street, giving me a feeling of an older, more established area. There are businesses along the street. They are spread far from each other, each with their own lot of space, unlike the dense, packed buildings of the French Quarter and Bywater. Soon, the series of buildings change from businesses to homes. They large, Southern mansions are elevated above and set back from the street, provided with their own lot and yard and large front porch. As the sun begins to set, I start to notice the gas lanterns on a number of porches between the big, white columns supporting the porch overhang. I don’t notice people like I did in the French Quarter or in Bywater. Despite the people in cars or on bikes, I don’t notice many people within the lots of the homes. It feels less about a community of people and more about an individual sense of privacy and ownership. My ride comes to a close as I turn off of St. Charles to Robert and then to Perrier. Away from St. Charles, the street is smaller and houses feel closer, creating a sense of neighborhood. Most people are out on their porches, conversing with one another, and I am reminded of Bywater and the relationships people have with one another. As I dismount my bike, I can’t help but feel like I have just traveled through so many different places, all on one stretch of road.

While these boundaries of street, building, and even people, may not be physical boundaries, they are present as symbols within each neighborhood. Through the experience of these symbols along my journey, I was able to notice them in layers, building my perception of each neighborhood and influencing it as I went. I think it was the subtle changes in the environment that may have had the most impact as criteria for the definition of a boundary. The symbols are present and known, but are unique to the areas they are found, creating the boundaries between each of the neighborhoods. The boundaries are important because they offer a sense of community and belonging whether you are a tourist or fifth-generation. Though Bywater, the French Quarter and Uptown are all located along a six-mile stretch, they are so different because of the symbolic elements within each area, making for a richer, more manifold city of New Orleans.

Preconception is Deceptive

My initial feelings for new Orleans as a resident of four weeks comes from my feelings and newfound devotion for my neighborhood in Bywater. I think of this city on a smaller scale than I did when I first arrived; in terms of people, coffee shops, bars and stores, instead of the French Quarter, Mardi Gras, and the flood. Occasionally, the sticky heat affects my feelings, but rarely now that I live here, do I associate New Orleans with water anymore. Why, when I am surrounded almost entirely by water, do I think about my position only when I am removed from the city context? Why did coming to live here push the association between water and New Orleans so easily out of my mind?

I think my answer lies in the fact that the attitude present here about water is so defensive. Levees, pumps and other defense systems are present, barricading New Orleans from the water it was made from.

I spent my summer this year in Rotterdam, Netherlands. Rotterdam, much like New Orleans, is below sea level, a major port, and surrounded by water. The Dutch are very aware of the water that surrounds them, but seem to have a completely different view of the water that threatens them. I think a lot of this awareness has to do with the development of their waterfront and it’s accessibility throughout the city. They have the similar defense systems in place, and take flooding very seriously, but they are able to work with the water instead of against it. They build with the water, using it to their advantage, rather than treating it as a disadvantage.

I think New Orleans can learn so many lessons from the Dutch, not only in defense technology, but in the interaction with the water. By changing attitudes about water from a negative standpoint to one that is positive, we can start to use water in a way that will be advantageous to the community of New Orleans. We can learn to incorporate water in the daily life of a new Orleanian rather than ignore it.

It’s funny how perceptions change so much with exposure. I had so many preconceived ideas about New Orleans and what New Orleans meant, like the flood and it’s obvious impact on the people here. My idea of what water means to people is obvious now that I live here and see first hand the attitude, both spoken and unspoken. But my question still remains as to how New Orleans can start to look at the water they so depend on and, with caution, embrace it.

Maybe as I spend more time here, I will gain a new perception of New Orleans that includes a different view of water. But for now, I understand water in the context of the city. I understand that even though water is present in the everyday life of a new Orleanian, you just may not be so aware of it. My challenge becomes how I make water more apparent to myself in my daily life in New Orleans.