New Orleans, with Native American, Cajun, French & Spanish colonial, African, and many other immigrant influences, is a vibrant city known for jazz, jambalaya, and jerk. It’s also the city my sister now calls home, so Andrés & I decided to spend Thanksgiving week there. We flew down to NOLA with my sister, who recovered surprisingly quickly from her 50 miler. We ubered (almost an official verb in the English language, though not yet officially found in the Merriam Webster dictionary) to the DC airport with a nice gentleman name Mohammed, and then ubered from the New Orleans airport with another Mohammed. Hopefully they can continue with business as usual, despite Trumps threats and ignorant rants.
Our first afternoon, we walked the dogs around my sister’s neighborhood,
and within 20 minutes had already gotten to know at least 6 of her cool Uptown neighbors, which included Linda, her awesome hairdresser and confidant and Edgar, an artist passionate about geneology.
Edgar invited us in for some drinks, sharing with us some tidbits from his fascinating family history. He’s cousins with Paul Manship, whose sculpture of Prometheus you might recognize in Rockefeller Center. He also told us about his great, great, great (not sure how many greats…) grandpa, José Guerra, who was a Spanish general. Guerra (appropriately named), helped Isabella & Ferdinand in their quest to rid Spain of the Moors, and in exchange, he was gifted a chunk of land in the Yucatán peninsula… Edgar showed us a picture of his mother’s childhood home in Mérida, one of the towns we plan to visit in Mexico.
For now, it’s time to come back to the present, and keep exploring the food and culture that NOLA has to offer!