Love Letter - The Hungry Nomad

My dear New Orleans,

I am sad to be writing this letter, sad to end a chapter, sad to have it all come to an end. But it is time for us to part ways. I want you to know that you have been so good to me. I am so lucky to have lived you, experienced you, breathed you. Why?

Where do I begin?

I loved waking up every single day to sunshine- that sweet and warm sunshine. Yes there was plenty of rain- but tropical warm rain still feels so good, especially for a Canuck like me. And with the rain came the amazing green lush streets. Those massive oak trees that speak to you if you listen long enough and tell you tales of New Orleans rich past. I have fallen in love with those oak trees many which wear colorful beads proudly and boast their attendance at Mardi Gras.

Yes, I have fallen in love with a tree. Anne Rice once said “I love New Orleans physically. I love the trees and the balmy air and the beautiful days”. I, like Ann Rice, have physically fallen in love with New Orleans.

But the beauty of a town is never complete without the people. I have fallen in love with the warm, friendly and happy people of New Orleans.

If there was ever a town to have a reason to be full of sorrow and pain, it is New Orleans. And although the damages of Katrina, poverty and crime are all around, it does not stop people from living to the fullest. Every day is a new day and more reason to celebrate.

I loved all the festivals. How can one town have so many festivals in one year? It started with the New Orleans Jazz Festival where I heard the best soulful music while eating some of that hearty food. Crawfish enchiladas while listening to Jazz. Could anything be better?

Jazz fest gives locals and tourists two full weeks of celebrations. Two weeks of celebrating the town’s rich musical history and artists. So many untapped talent in one town. So much beauty in each performance.

Even the local cats go to the bar in New Orleans!

I loved Frenchmen street. The energy, the music, the soul of the city comes out at night on Frenchmens. On any particular night, stepping into any bar I would hear some of the best music ever to hit my eardrums. I would dance among young and old. Locals and tourists. All enjoying life, swaying to the music and happily existing.

It didn’t end there. Next came the French Quarter festival, the Po-boy festival, Oak street festival, oyster festival and creole tomato festival. So many reasons to celebrate. Little reason to mourn the past.

But nothing, absolutely nothing could top Mardi Gras. Mardi Gras gives people a reason to live. When I first moved down to New Orleans I didn’t appreciate how Mardi Gras is ingrained in the genes of New Orleanians.

One month of celebrations.

One month of drinking, feasting and playing dress up.

One month of wonderful, creative and clever floats driving through Saint Charles street.

One month of fancy balls letting you take a step back in time and relive the town’s glorious past.

One month of king cakes.

That purple, yellow and green sugary piece of heaven with a surprise in the middle….

… 11 months of planning and counting down the days.

And the food!

What can I say about the food? I fear whatever I say won’t be enough. My first dining experience was at Commander’s Palace. Twenty-five cent martinis. Turtle Soup and Gumbo. Then came the Chargrilled oysters at Dragos, Barbecued shrimp at Mr. B’s, Po-boys at Parktown Tavern and an experience out of this world at Jacques-Imos.

Oh the food!

The seafood!

The oysters, oysters, oysters.

The spices. The richness and the sauces.

The fresh chargrilled oysters, the rich seafood gumbo, the spicy jambalaya, the creamy crawfish etouffes, the bread pudding and pralines and my favorite- barbecued shrimp from Mr. B’s.