Day 3 - New Orleans

After a pretty late wakeup from everyone, we rushed over to the St. Bernard Community Center to serve the Ninth Ward community for a little bit. The Ninth Ward was one of the hardest hit, if not the hardest hit, area in New Orleans from Hurricane Katrina. Driving out there from the hotel, we passed a house after broken down house, empty, boarded up KFC’s and convenience stores, and quick cash-n-loan stores, all speaking of the tragedies of the past few years, telling us stories of a place forgotten by its own government, a place where the opportunities are simply not equal for them, yet a place where hope and love still thrive.








This seems to be one of the key themes I am learning about our country – that is, our capacity for our personal altruism and hope. Whether this altruism is real or false is irrelevant, because, you can really only look at a person’s actions and not into their minds or hearts. That is why I say perceived personal altruism – simply working a 9 to 5 to keep your head above water and food on the table for friends and family is more than enough; for others, it’s traveling to Thailand to stop human trafficking. These choices are much more an evidence of our class background and not dedication to humanity, a distinction that is beginning to give me clearer eyes as I navigate my path and look at other people.
I feel very fortunate to have met a new friend, Thomas, at the St. Bernard Community Center in the Ninth Ward. After handing me a Vitamin Water after a couple hours of work, he mumbled a mere, “Cheers, mate,” with a thick Scottish accent under that breath. I immediately wondered about the path he took to wind up at a makeshift building that calls itself a community center in one of the poorest areas of the country. “Love. Pure love,” he answered when I asked him what was one of the most uniting things about America. “I’m not religious or anything, but I tell you what, I sure know what love is. And I know that I love my own life more than nearly all of my friends.” This passion for wandering was cultivated at a young age as he spent his first sixteen years in a Scottish orphanage, the last 5 of those studying philosophy with local university professors. Since then, he has spent years traveling across Europe and the Americas. He is a full time chef at some local New Orleans restaurants and loves to talk about the adventures he has taken part in. After letting us know he appreciated our help and got exceptionally good vibes from our volunteer group, it was time to head to lunch at a local place he recommended in the French Quarter.
Once we made our way to the place, we found it was only 21+ and obviously did not fit the demographics of our group. We ran over to Café Du Monde for some beignets, then to a local joint for Po Boys and such (interesting for a guy who just went vegetarian a week ago). I’ve had some good company in this endeavor, my friend and fellow researcher, Rashina (a lifelong veggie)… We’re the only two on the trip and throughout our travels so far, we pretty much have had to cut out 95% of the menu from every restaurant we go to. Not difficult really, though. The company helps. And I feel great.

Drove over to Tulane University to shower in the student center (with permission of course)… I’m pretty sure that was the first shower any of us had since Friday evening… that’s a solid three days of sweat, grease, and body odor. Yum. Afterwards, we ventured back over the French Quarter and wandered for a bit, cancelled a Haunted History tour because we were all so beat. Came back and crashed early.
One of the most interesting things about the day was that it was similar to Memphis in that a mere three blocks from Bourbon Street were vacant lots and boarded up homes, complete with X’s marked on them leftover from Katrina. How many of these places exist in the world? I heard about a beach in Costa Rica, surrounded by miles of 8-foot-high fencing. At this beach, cruise ships drop off tourists for a day of fun, with gates on the fences locked up. As the cruise ships pull out from the bay each evening, the gates are unlocked and the locals comb the beach to eat the scraps of what the tourists leave over. How often do we miss all of the larger stories in the areas we visit? The possible consequences of how we travel? The people and spaces that exist outside of what the Chamber of Commerce wants us to see? There is where we find a hint of what it means to live in that area, embrace relationships with local people, and deepen our connection to that the place, its citizens, and eventually… ourselves.