Alexandria to Baton Rouge to New Orleans
New Orleans is seen as a great mixing bowl of different cultures, languages and people. Is it French? Spanish? Native American? African American? Acadians relocated from Nova Scotia? American?
It is all of the above and more.
That seems appropriate for today was also a mixing of different cultures, experiences and people.
We started the day at the capitol in Baton Rouge, billed as the most visited state Capitol. It was built by the force of Huey Long, a famous and controversial Louisiana politician, when he was governor during the great depression. He was assassinated five years later in this same building. There is still a debate if it was a doctor whose family he had taken political retribution on or if it was one of his own bodyguards.
You walk up the steps of the capitol with the names of each state etched in stone and the year it was admitted to the union. It is meant to signify the independence and also the interdependence of each state and to make sure all feel welcome.
This morning just before Easter Sunday, there is a Bible Marathon finishing up under a pop-up tent on the capitol steps. A coalition of local Christian churches are reading the Bible non-stop, as part of their lobbying week. They started on Wednesday and should finish by late Saturdays part of their annual lobbying day. We arrive as they are just finishing up Acts of the Apostles.
Just ten yards away a group is gathering as part of the national day of protest against the illegal and immoral actions of the Trump Administration. As we march to the federal building with them, we have long conversations with the locals. Most have lived here for generations and are proud of their state. They have come to be heard and seen even if they feel in the minority in Louisiana.
One woman talks about how much harder it has been to come to family gatherings. “I have just learned to be calm and not to fall into the hate. These are my neighbors too, and I care for them as well.*
There is one anti-protestor who follows the crowd on the other sidewalk. He carries a website and uses a bullhorn which marks him as self-proclaimed whites only nationalist. One event organizer keeps everyone calm by saying in a smooth southern drawl, “He ain’t nothing, just trying to harass us.”. They march proceeds peacefully.
We arrive in New Orleans on a sunny, slightly muggy afternoon. We walk the French Quarter and are impressed by the number of people from everywhere. A high school band is playing in historic Jackson Square, while several groups walk by dressed as pirates, others proclaim it is their birthday with sashes across their chest, some even have matching t-shirts. We continue to the end and there are more bars, so-called gentleman clubs, dance venues and live music everywhere – inside and on the streets. We happen upon the National Park which is in a refurbished home of the original architect of the French Quarter. We have just missed the free jazz concert.
We stop for a late lunch at the famous Napoleon House and begin our amazing food journey with an Italian Muffaleta – I call it a stuffed pizza, with some amazing olives, between a plate size homemade sesame seed bun. As we leave, they are setting up for a small wedding in their courtyard.
Back on the streets, we see at least one wedding couple, already married, joyously maneuvering down the streets between the tourists. Later, I am grabbed by a gentleman who recognizes me. He is the former City Manager from Newcastle, a colleague of mine from Seattle. We find out he is here for a friend’s funeral and they just completed the usual parade through town and finished at Jackson Square. We catch up and promise to stay in touch when we return.
As the evening comes to a close, I decide it would be nice to celebrate Easter by attending the Catholic Easter Vigil at the St. Louis Cathedral adjacent to Jackson Square. I am taken back to many of these rituals growing up at St. Louise Church in Bellevue. We light candles in the darkness, welcome new members, and sing traditional hymns. We emerge back in the bustling and loud streets two hours later.
We head back to our historic hotel which traces it’s lineage to French times. Of course we are in the French Quarter. We hear a band playing and look outside. It is a wedding party parade with a full band going by. The joy continues.
I go to sleep thinking about this day of contrasts and what binds us together. I look for that independence and interdependence that is so vital.
Siri and David Adventures 