The bars never close and the music never stops. You can drink on the sidewalks (ask for a cup to go) or in your car (pop into a drivethru daiquiri stand). The freewheeling attitude, the jazz and the yearly two-week Mardi Gras celebration have bolstered the city’s hard-drinking image and made Bourbon Street the most vomited-on street in America, and maybe even the world. Tourists swarm the heartbreakingly beautiful French Quarter. Many come to drink and behave badly; sporting silly hats, Mardi Gras beads and heat rashes, they stagger down Bourbon Street shouting “Show us your tits!” and clutching gigantic sugary cocktails (like the infamous Hurricane – a bright pink rum concoction that will take you from drunk to hung-over in a single glass).
Most of the year, the heat is oppressive, as if somebody shoved a blowdryer into your mouth. But the weather seems to be a reason for people to move here, too. While natives grouse about the heat and set their air conditioners at arctic levels, many ex-northerners
embrace it. This is definitely the tropics, and it’s even more evident when you cross Esplanade Avenue into the funkier part of town. The sidewalks, less well maintained here, are buckled by roots pushing up through the pavement. Assuming you don’t get lost – not a sure thing given the city’s eccentric layout – you’ll soon be in Faubourg Marigny, a well-established drinking destination for the young and hip. The main drag, Frenchmen Street, is lined with bars, clubs, eateries and tattoo parlors. But keeping walking across Elysian Fields (where Marlon Brando screamed “Stella” in A Streetcar Named Desire), and soon you’ll find yourself in the 9th Ward.
Quaint, colorful Creole cottages hug the ground, sharing the streets with warehouse spaces in an old working class neighborhood. The 9th Ward owes much of its charm to its seclusion. It often feels like it’s stuck in a time warp. You find yourself wondering if you’d know what was going on in the world if you lived here.
The preferred mode of transport is the bicycle, and the cars you do see are more likely to be El Caminos or Barracudas than Toyotas or Hondas. Until recently, this was a largely residential area, with little in the way of nightlife and shopping. That’s changing as warehouses are converted into art studios and galleries. Ramshackle houses are becoming funky bars and vintage stores are mushrooming up. It’s definitely not a shopping or nightlife district – many of the best stores and hang-outs are tucked away, with discreet
signs and poorly lit entries, almost as if they don’t want to be found out.
The 9th Ward is still largely a poor black neighborhood. New Orleans is one of the poorest cities in the US, with one of the country’s highest murder rates. The difference between the haves and the have-nots is miles wide and often falls along race lines. Sixty-nine percent of New Orleans’ population is African-American, many living in grim, rundown neighborhoods resembling third world shantytowns.
