Things I Didn’t Know Until I Left New Orleans
Small surprises from a NOLA expat
It’s been a long time since I left New Orleans. I always thought I’d move away for a few years, sow my wild oats, and move back home. Then, life happened - job, career, DC, husband, kids, family, Katrina - and all of a sudden it’s been over 20 years. However, I still call myself a New Orleanian and it will always be home.
I go back to visit family and partake of various festivities and family functions - weddings, funerals, Saints games, Jazz Fest, Mardi Gras - several times a year. And each time I’m there, I’m struck by how uniquely New Orleans New Orleans is. Growing up, I had no real appreciation for this - alas, I had nothing to serve as comparison or context. I don’t mean to sound like a country bumpkin, but --
over the years, certain non-New Orleans customs and behaviors have taken me by surprise - some good, some not-so-good, but mostly just bewildering.
- Bars Close.
It is true that in most of the country bars close at a standard time. When I first arrived in San Antonio for college, I wasn’t fully clear on the concept of “Last Call.” Nor was the bouncer amused when I tried to leave the bar with a beer in my hand and asked him for a “Go Cup” if I couldn’t take it with me. - Leaves actually DO change colors in the Fall.
As a kid, I thought this only happened in storybooks. Seriously. Leaves in New Orleans go from green to kind of a dull brown. This was one of the happy surprises of living somewhere with actual seasons. - People in the North (or Nawth, dawlin’) do not chat with you in the grocery store.
They do not make eye contact on the subway. They do not ask about your Mom and them at the checkout. Occasionally, your New Orleans roots will mysteriously show and old people will randomly talk to you about vegetables in the produce aisle, but otherwise strangers are polite but it is odd and unnerving for them to be friendly. - Parades everywhere else pretty much SUCK.
With the possible exceptions of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade and the Tournament of Roses parade, non-Mardi Gras parades are a tremendous letdown. Dogs, civic officials, and firemen ride by on flatbeds and firetrucks; people may throw candy, but that’s it. This made me very sad. - EVERYONE has a story about Bourbon Street.
And I mean, EVERYONE. And finding out you’re from New Orleans they will share it with you. Usually, it involves copious amounts of alcohol and vomiting. Occasionally, it will be a secondhand story about someone they know having been mugged. Rarely, but gratifyingly, it will involve a fabulous restaurant or favorite hole in the wall spot. - Almost everyone thinks all New Orleanians hang out 24-7 in the French Quarter.
While I can forgive them for thinking we’re a debauched and sotted lot, most people don’t seem to realize that the people making “Girls Gone Wild” videos and embarrassing themselves for beads are TOURISTS.
My other favorite are the people who are shocked - shocked, I tell you - that I would take my children to Mardi Gras. No, I explain patiently, I do not take the kids to Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras, but there is plenty of family fun in the neighborhoods watching the parades. - What a Median Is.
In New Orleans, we call it the “neutral ground.” We say other weird things, like “ice box” for refrigerator and “banquette” for sidewalk - or maybe that’s just the old people, but yeah, we talk funny. And not just the accent. - How Rare a Good Cup of Gumbo Is.
I’ve been lucky to live in big cities with plenty of great dining options - San Antonio and Washington, DC. But, I did not appreciate how unique New Orleans is in its food culture. It’s not just the great chefs and famous restaurants. It’s the neighborhood dives - where you can get an incredible po-boy for $3 or a perfect cup of gumbo just going out “to grab a bite to eat.” - RETRACTED
I was going to say, “People have absolutely NO CLUE about Katrina” but then realized I was going to keep this light and apolitical. So, I will leave that right there. - What It Means to Miss New Orleans
