It is now 5 am. We arrived home a few hours ago, but unpacking and foolish TV watching kept us up until now. The last stop on our trans-American trip was New Orleans. It was where I first moved to once out of college and was home for 7 years. The tales of Katrina’s devastation had me primed for something. And yet the visit didin’t have me feeling truly aware of the scope of things. We didn’t get to go around the city much, leaving the hardest hit areas unseen. On Magazine St. stores of all sort were open, and the trendy kids were out and about. Everything gave the feeling of recovery and strength. But it wasn’t the same city I left and I could’t resolve what I was seeing and what I knew was the truth of the city.
It was leaving the city and heading East that the scope of Katrina’s damage was more ev9odnt. The east was heavily hit. The ghost town apartment complexes and blocks of desolate homes were proof. Main, multi-lane streets were lightly traveled and business signs remains blank, broken and unlit.
While the roads were rough in New Orleans, it was a pothole on the I-10 that was fatal to a front tire. Which meant changing a tire while being blasted by traffic, an unexpected stop in Sliddel, La and 3 hour delay in getting back on the road while waiting for a new tire. The only benefit was an unexpectedly good Lebanese meal at a place whose's name escapes me.
There are many pictures to post and a few more stories to tell. Later… in future posts,