I used to roam these streets. I ran down the un-even brick pavement, dissolving into the crowd, savoring the scents of sweet sweat, summer heat, alcohol, spices and foods. Kiosk stands and psychic readings were scattered all along the side of the road; people trying to make a dollar to feed themselves. Street performers with costumes and instruments would smile and continue their acts, hoping that some loose change would end up in their hat.
I used to roam these streets. I used to live here. I used to consider these streets home. New Orleans is different from any city I’ve ever been too. There’s a strange sort of aurora about it that makes it feel so sad and beautiful. The architecture is amazing; the buildings old and archaic, forever wonderful, standing tall.
I lived on the fourth floor on Royal street; a block away from Bourbon street. I spent my days going in and out of farmers markets and voodoo shops. I ran into cafes to hide from the rain. And at night, when the sun would go down, you would see the city’s nightlife emerge from the darkness every so subtly as the sun drifted more and more towards the horizon. The sunsets were utterly gorgeous. The most beautiful I’ve ever seen. Especially when you were on the ferry that ran from New Orleans to a small island across the Mississippi; the wind in your face, the smell of the fresh air. It’s was so exhilarating.
It sounds so corny and it may sound crazy, but I think everyone should visit once in their life. And not just for Mardi Gras. The city is so much more than just getting drunk and flashing others. It’s full of so much history and beauty. It takes my breath away and I hope to go back someday.
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