The Big Easy means (bookishly) Confederacy of Dunces, Faulkner (some Absalom Absalom?), even A Streetcar Named Desire, right?! (We’ll let the play slip in there.) It’s beignets and Spanish colonialism, French-ness and Jean Lafitte before that pirate got to Galveston. It feels like Cartagena in some places, and a heck of a lot like Galveston in a lot of places. And yesterday, it included a historical walking tour, Cafe Du Monde (maybe a little too much sugar with hot chocolate + powdery sugary airy heavenly pillows of floury dough), and The Historic New Orleans Collection, with its art showcases and a stirring collection of ‘70s photography of Acadiana.
NOLA is foreign even while it’s completely American. And the art it inspires often seems to reflect this otherness-with-not-other. Anyway, who can help but love a place full of pirates, ghosts, voodoo, and dissipated literary history?