New Orleans is filled with beautiful ruins. Long before the storm, the "City that Care Forgot" was home to countless buildings that stand in some state of disrepair. It's part of what gives the place its unique charm. One really gets the sense that there is history here, partly because you can see remnants of it everywhere you go.This is especially true of Bywater, the neighborhood where we live. Much like the French Quarter, Bywater exudes authentic "New Orleans." The buildings here are old, weathered, and colorful, with layers of age on every facade. Across from our house, there is a decrepit metal building that we call 'the red barn.' Small trees and vines have grown up to surround its structure, giving new meaning to the term green roof. Bright green leaves hang like flapping drapes from the chain link fence which makes for a lovely wall. In some places, the building and landscape have totally intertwined, making it impossible to preserve the barn without preserving the plant. In Cambodia, there is a term for this phenomenon: ancient ruins enmeshed in overgrowth are called "given back to the jungle." However sad, there is something irresistable about ruins like these.
Yet having lived in New Orleans for the past year, I've also come to realize that not all ruins evoke this kind of dreamy romance. As Charles Merewether writes in his essay Traces of Loss, "ruins contain the traces of former worlds and therefore provoke a certain nostalgia, but living with ruins can also be a reminder of disaster." Somehow, the recent ruination of someone's home just isn't as easy to romanticize. In places like Lakeview and Gentilly, we simply see sadness.
But what I love about New Orleans is that despite everything, people here have fun. There's a sense of creativity and humor ingrained in everything. Take this wall for instance (another Bywater find.) Where else but in New Orleans would someone employ cacti as security system? At the same time its crazy, it also makes perfect sense.
