From a bike.

In New Orleans, the streets or canals that surround a community can describe its neighborhood boundary, but there are also indications of boundaries, which shape the communities. These indicative boundaries can be as simple as a fenced yard or the bikes outside of a coffee shop. To understand my neighborhood boundary I took a bike ride through two neighboring communities. I started at the edge of the French Quarter on Esplanade Avenue and rode through Marigny, Bywater (my community) and St. Claude neighborhood districts.
Esplanade Avenue is a major road with a neutral ground that physically divides Marigny from the French Quarter. Crossing Esplanade I noticed a distinct change in the pavement and sidewalks. The slate sidewalks and ground entry buildings of the French Quarter are refined to accommodate a tourist economy. In Marigny the separation of sidewalks from the entry or raised entries accommodate individual privacy for members of a community. Houses that are setback from the sidewalk to introduce a private concrete yard are also common. These were indications of an existing community through the nature of the built environment. There were also social indications. Passing by a causal conversation between two neighbors across the street from one another, I noticed a sense of satisfaction that each of the two had by standing in their own yard and communicating across the street. The intimate value of ownership is evident when entering the community of Marigny, but the question is where that community begins. The technical boundaries of Marigny form a trapezoid from the river, north to Claiborne Avenue. The commercial area of Marigny lies along Frenchmen street where the ground level entry and balconies are conditions that accommodate tourism. This linear stretch of bars and cafes really seems to have bled over from the Quarter; however the division created by Esplanade Avenue keeps the condition of the locality. The scale and economy of Frenchmen street does not attempt to compete with similar streets of the French Quarter, its value lies in the intimacy of the neighborhood. It is interesting to mention that those looking to toss beads at drunken bar patrons in overcrowded streets would be very close to their desired address but out of context on Frenchmen street. Passing Frenchmen street, the edge of Elysian Fields is approached in a similar way to Esplanade Avenue. The physical division by a major road is the case in both Esplanade and Elysian Fields; however the trees lining Esplanade create a “public canopy” that makes the traverse less obtrusive. The open-air neutral grounds of Elysian Fields create a expansive physical boundary between two parts of Marigny. When approaching Elysian Fields on bike your momentum increases and crossing the road becomes a focused task.
After crossing Elysian Fields the momentum slows and the sense of community is renewed. Residents emerge from their houses to grab the paper. Contractor’s circular saws buzz as renovations to houses are being completed, and coffee shops open their doors to the community.
Moving across my third boundary Franklin Avenue on Chartres the technical boundary for the Bywater begins. Franklin Avenue presents less magnitude as a physical boundary than both Esplanade Avenue and Elysian Fields. The shift of the city’s grid is evident but the locality has not altogether been transformed just as in Marigny, the shotgun house sits at the sidewalk’s edge with its entry raised and the first hand conversations between residents still persist. Continuing on Chartres St. the smell of pralines and coffee in the air is like a public asset that is the byproduct of PJ’s coffee processing, and Aunt Sally’s Praline factory. The light industry that sits at the river seems to pose minimal disadvantages to the integrity of the Bywater’s spirit. In fact in this edge of the Bywater there is a small green space that sits in Marigny on Decatur and Spain. The green square is surrounded by light industry on all four sides; however, I’ve passed people enjoying the space as a dog park on numerous occasions. Ahead of Aunt Sally’s on Chartres is Press Street the fourth boundary in route through the Bywater. This boundary is a railroad crossing that I have personally created a hostility toward. The rail line extends pass the Bywater’s northern boundary of St. Claude and frequently stops for extended periods of time blocking both pedestrians and vehicles. The inconsistency of the trains make traveling unpredictable but the temporary boundary that it creates often secludes the anxious traveler. This temporary boundary of the train sometimes tempts the traveler to find alternative ways around, of which I have yet to find. The advantage of the Press Street boundary is the two-way road that makes movement from the top part of the neighborhood to the bottom easier. Press street’s boundary seems to only accommodate the Bywater as an infrastructural component. Beginning on Montegut as I rode east the Bywater neighborhood became prominently embedded in its symbols of local significance. Over half of the residents live in a shotgun house that meets the street, most often without obstruction of fence or trees. Making way past houses on bike observing the one notices the gates that connect each house to the next. Some gates have barbwire, some beads, and some are a collage of materials to hold back intruders. These personal boundaries seem like the only boundaries that keep the community from being intimately open. This intimate closure is only a security issue. Passing Markey’s Bar at the intersection of Lousia street and Royal street I was presented with symbols of the neighborhood’s true open quality, the bicycle. If the SUV is a symbol of suburban lifestyle, the bicycle is the symbol of the Bywater lifestyle. The bicycle would be a priceless asset to a suburban lifestyle in an economy where fuel has become inefficient; but the typical suburb’s location in relation to personal destinations has a quality of being “Too far to walk. Too far to bike” giving the bicycle temporary value. Passing your neighbors in a vehicle compared passing them on a bicycle is similar to having a conversation on the phone versus having one in person. One experience is immediate the latter is separate. The immediacy of an encounter with another biker seems universal. There is an innate tendency to acknowledge the other biker even if it’s a wave or nod. This same notion in a vehicle has probably been lost due to a large amount of drivers.

Barrie Greenbie states “I will consider the formation of cultural groups as the human social expression of the universal tendency of things in nature to form clusters of like entities, which are thereby distinguishable from different entities.”

These symbols of the Bywater are also seen across New Orleans but the timeless nature of the Bywater neighborhood addresses an origin or authenticity to the symbols.
As I cross St. Claude into the St. Claude neighborhood the sidewalks began to break apart or disappear altogether. There was an obvious issue of security as barred windows and doors were regular on most houses. The streets were lined with cars but there were not as many people outside. Passing a man on Congress street I waved and he waved back in reply asking, “how ya been.” “Good,” I replied as I rode by. I didn’t understand the why he would ask how I’ve been when he had just met me, but it is becoming clear to me how vital that intimate level of communication really is to establishing a sense of community or homogeneity.

Where's the river?

Where is the river? Geographically, we can see that the river sits in New Orleans but I didn’t see it until about a week after I’d been here. It wasn’t hidden; it was two blocks from my home. Sitting behind levees and wharfs the river has been entertaining and transporting every second since I’ve been here. For me, going to the River-walk is hardly a serene moment in conjunction with nature. Seeing the riverbanks lined with barges, and foreign boats in line to port, only confuses my sense of geographic location. However, it is a disjunction in which I feel confronted to enjoy.
The river has an intrinsic quality that is difficult to pinpoint. Anyone who glances at the river from a distance is intrigued to find what lies at its edge. Here in New Orleans industry and infrastructure lies at the edge. Cargo ships, steamboats, and ferries constantly pacing the river. The ferry as a system of public transportation, expresses a dependency of a city on its river. In New Orleans this public service bridges the gap between New Orleans Parrish and the West Bank. Just last week my friend Jordan and I took our bikes across the river, on the ferry to Algiers Point. The town is a historic community neighboring New Orleans. Once off the Ferry we ventured into the community briefly, only to later find ourselves riding our bikes along the river’s edge, following its banks with curiosity. We were going deeper into areas where Wharfs, boat repair stations, a gas plant, marina, and levee walls were part of an endless industrial landscape. We were continuously disappointed, expecting to see something to break the mundane. Eventually riding until we reached the base of the Crescent City connection bridge, which leads traffic to the West Bank. It was here that I realized why we had biked for so long. The sound of the traffic, a hundred or so feet above you creates an experience in synchrony with the passing traffic on the river where you feel incredibly small.
So what brings me to the river’s edge here in New Orleans? When leaving the density of the French Quarter to come to the banks of the river opens my eye to the scale change that occurs along the river. The environment shifts from the overwhelming micro sensory experience of the French Quarter to the massive scale of the river. The cranes, boats, barges, structural supports of docks and the river itself demand a presence. When at the river your senses are enhanced and your scale physically felt.
In New Orleans the two conditions of the micro and macro experience only contribute to my appreciation of the city. The river introduces diversity, as a dense network of possibilities, that I’ve come to learn, isn’t exactly evident at first glance or on the surface.

So far so good.

So far I’ve been here in New Orleans for almost three weeks now, driving here from Kentucky was boring and nothing worth commenting about, however upon arrival in New Orleans the weather and people were noticeably different. Different in a good way? No. Different in a bad way? No. While the heat here is miserable at times the night and mornings are good. The people though, at least who I’ve encountered have been pretty interesting, for example, take this guy who hangs outside a small grocery called Frady’s. He is shirtless Monday through Saturday (I haven’t seen him on Sundays), drinking a Busch and chain smoking. So far I’ve overheard this guy talking about how he’s always being arrested and can’t get a job. Why is this guy different? Cause he doesn’t give a damn. Now he’s not obnoxious and has been very friendly, once offering to watch my bike while I went inside, and no, he didn’t steal it. The laid-back attitude and hospitality of these people has really become a luxury for me since living in Kentucky it wasn’t uncommon to experience this attitude. So what’s so different about Kentuckians and New Orleanians? A lot. Obvious things like accents, but there are certain things that can’t be described through physical characteristics. Arts and culture are practiced in New Orleans. Arts and culture are celebrated in Kentucky. In Kentucky our jobs determine our lifestyle pace. In New Orleans you decide your lifestyle pace. There is this informal lifestyle in New Orleans where it seems primary needs and personal happiness come foremost. This could be classified as a condition of “The South”, but even between Tennessee and New Orleans the gradient is extremely weighted. While a lot of country music stars in Nashville live in suburban mansions, a majority of the musicians from New Orleans reside in their hometowns. One of the most respected jazz musicians Fats Domino still lives in the lower 9th ward, in of the most hurricane devastated areas. It became obvious to me over these past weeks that people here have an honest love for their city. The people here are proud to say: “I’ve lived here all my life.” For me, I’m still trying to find what I love about New Orleans. Yeah, the food’s good, music’s good, and most people are good which is part of this city but without the average citizens, New Orleans would be like Disney World for adults. So what about New Orleans is so “New Orleans?” It’s people first but I think it also has something to do with these horribly maintained streets, buildings that are falling apart, held together with paint. (Markey’s Bar, Vaughn’s), and humidity that hits you like a wall. Yeah that’s in Tijuana too but here it’s profitable.
At a local scale my new home on Pauline St. in the Bywater (9th Ward) of New Orleans, is like living a paradox. The environment is old and stale in a way that is fresh and inviting. Service, quality and prices in the small stores are competitive with those in the upscale parts of town (French Quarter, Garden District etc.) and my neighbors are friendly, like Jeff who lives behind us lets us use his pool anytime. It’s like a smaller French Quarter that hasn’t been discovered by tourists. There is definitely a small community environment in the Bywater. In the short amount of time I’ve been here I still wonder how different my experience might be if I was living in another part of New Orleans. Going to another part of New Orleans for me has been like visiting another town and coming back to the 9th ward feels like returning home. I feel like experiencing another area of New Orleans really requires waking up there.