New Orleans continues to dazzle us with its simplicity and intensity. In all things, it seems, New Orleans strikes an impossible balance of relaxed and serious. Everywhere there is this incongruousness, this natural coexisting of opposites. I’d say tension, but it’s really the opposite of that. It’s an entwined vine woven through a wrought iron fence. It’s burying the dead above the ground. It’s beautiful decay on antebellum mansions. It’s decadent sustenance of homemade red beans and rice served in a styrofoam bowl. It’s flecked, vibrant paint on the shutters of a shotgun house. It’s ancient oak roots heaving sidewalks and roads. It’s brass jazz from a second line temporarily drowned out by a low fighter jet on training over the Mississippi. It is a deep, passionate commitment to art, food, music and culture presented in such humble, honest, down-to-earth, good natured, relaxed vessels of genius. That’s all good.

Here is why New Orleans is no good.

I want to eat all the things and drink all the things and hear all the things. It is a city so rich in tradition and well-placed pride. A simple Google search on, say, BEIGNET, will send you down a rabbit hole, with some paths dusted with powdered sugar, and other paths temptingly winding you down savory, seafoody, inventive nooks. Just casting about in our neighborhood I am tempted by places like Vintage. It’s an 8 minute walk from here, and I can tell by the menus that it is no good for us. But, lord! It is all so good. There again is that coexisting of opposites.

We are staying in the Irish Channel neighborhood. Deep in the neighborhood. Like, adjacent to train lines and port traffic, warehouses, storage buildings, and long-deserted cotton processing plants. We are also walkable to Barracuda Taco and Margarita Garden, Tracy’s, Parasol’s, Tipiana’s, and so many, many more places where they take food, cocktails, music, and conversation very seriously. This coming weekend is St Patrick’s Day, and rumor has it that there will be celebrations all throughout the neighborhood, complete with parades, costumes, and tossing of cabbages and potatoes. Lots of sinners celebrating the saint. More cherished conflict.

Painting in very broad strokes, the people of New Orleans are as open and friendly and kind as any I’ve ever come across. They are not nosy or fake. Laughs are infectious. They are quick to smile. They are not rushed or harassed at your approach. And I think it’s fair to say they aren’t particularly tied to a clock. At least, they have an intuition of when a sense of urgency might be required, and most of the time it’s simply not necessary. They meet you where you are at while confidently — but not arrogantly — knowing where they stand. The culture infuses all aspects and makes even the not so shiny parts integral to the beautiful fabric of the city. There is a lot going on here, more than one can absorb in a month. And that really is no good. I will need to return again and again.

Meanwhile, here are a few images taken the past week. Feel free to open for better detail.