I had the opportunity to travel to my homeland of New Orleans, Louisiana this weekend. With too many plans and not enough time I found myself welcomed into my city by flooding rains and lots of traffic. Ahh, back where I belong. Growing up I never thought it "cool" that I was from New Orleans. Wasn't every other city like this except maybe with less trash on the ground? Didn't everyone hear ferry boat horns before going to bed, and use box fans to cool their rooms? Surely everyone did. Going to college in another city in Louisiana brought culture shock as I realized no other place in America, or maybe even the world was like this place I called home. Now, I find myself missing the different accents from people on the streets, talking to neighbors, and hearing jazz breeze by on the riverwalk. With a very valiant yet futile attempt to present myself as a local I hit the streets with a confident stride and a big camera around my neck. I think it was the camera that fooled people. I think people were actually disappointed when my answer to their "Where are you from ?" question just revealed Algiers. Oh, she is one of us -- well, tell ya mom 'n them we said hi. It wasn't until I was removed from this city that I actually missed it. It was the parks uptown, the neighbors practicing their sax for Mardi Gras parades on the front porch, and the man talking, in a local TJMax, about how he can make a gumbo with 11 different ingredients that would knock your socks off that brought back the love I have for this place. It is as if once you've lived here the place leaves this impression on you. It's in your blood and the city has somehow shaped who you are as a person. I realized that just maybe the reason why I'm a talker, sarcastic and a people person is because I'm from New Orleans. I may not always live there but it will always be a part of me.
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