Weekend in NOLO (sometime in twenty thirteen)
He signed up for one of those time-shares
presentation deals at the mall without my knowledge.
Under a big sign that said “Free Weekend in (insert any
city name here). Includes three-day stay at such-and-such
hotel, just fulfill attendance presentation requirement.
Of course, they tell you that afterwards. It was cool riding
down a freeway I’d never seen before, developing a new
affinity for the number “ten”. We were within walking
distance of the French Quarter with its multitude of
bric-a-brac stands and shops. Open air bars
beckoning us in and disposing massively
inebriated tourists back onto the street at 12:30 in
the afternoon. My only regret at the time was that
I considered it too early to drink. From there we
went to the seafood place recommended by a
local at the meeting where there was a bit
of a wait but the food was fantastic.
During which I got to see a bonafide, second
line parade. The happy couple strutting
behind the brass band, followed by the
attendees. Sound filled the street outside.
It was normal and slow motion both at
once.
Afterwards, we walked along the streets
whose shores kissed the edge of the
Mississippi. Picked up a card from a
coin-operated fortune teller. Can’t remember
what the fortune said, but it was good
(I believe they always are) and I kept it for
many years. And the time flew. Before I knew
it, the weekend was over. As we hit the road
toward home, I made a promise to myself to
one day, return to New Orleans. When I had
just a little more time in my pocket.
My Return to NOLO, Part Two (January 6-8th, 2023)
I made it back to NOLO, several years after my initial visit.
Hotel room absolutely lovely; with its kitchenette and extra
bed that I didn’t need. Maybe I was so excited to go, I forgot
to order a single bedroom. View was of other windows, but if
I looked to the right, I could see the Jackson Avenue traffic
bustling under a sky tinged in amber sunsets. My, how those
streets called themselves to me as I walked the nearest ones.
getting a latte and chocolate croissant a block away, staring
at both the streetcars and palm trees in absolute wonder.
When I found Canal Street, my prior recollections came to life.
Returning back to me fully in real time, I remembered. Even
though I was still heady from both the travel high and densely
erotic dreams in the early morning hours as my eyes witnessed
both a sea of stars and fleur-de-lis.
The possibilities are endless for I am “home” in a place
I wasn’t born in, but my people were. Albeit two and a half
hours away. And somehow, the city knows it as I feel its
embrace around me.
This trip a complete contrast to the one before. Yet,
it doesn’t phase me at all. Because there’s something
different here about the Sun and sky; the vibe so
distinct. Maybe it calls to me because it’s the land
of my mother’s people, the land of my Great –
Grandparents. Maybe it just wants me, period.
I don’t know why it feels like this – I’m just glad
that it does.
Back to the palm trees – yes, the palm trees. Being from
Chicago, I find them fascinating. I stare at them
helplessly upon my outings, in awe of the varying
heights and the unrelenting casualness they
embody.
Return to NOLO, Part Three
Travelling completes the soul. That’s the only way
I can explain it. I once had a co-worker that had
several tattoos. Every time I’d see her, she’d show
me her newest tat while excitedly talking about the
next one she’d get. I’ve realized how she felt about
tattoos, I feel about travel. As I sit here in the
airport terminal, all I can think about is where my
next trip will take me. The thought leaving me
excited, breathless and grateful as this last trip
was years in the making and sorely needed.
As it was winter, I didn’t smell magnolia in the
breezes, but I felt the ragtime rumble itself
through me in an off street by the French Market. I
traipsed on cobblestone streets among buildings
brocaded in metal flowers and secrets.
Canal Street crept quietly into my memories,
with its broad width and sun setting horizon.
The ancient souvenir shop I frequented
the first time still standing on the corner.
The large white sign with black letters, an
antique in the digital age. Now flooded by
several CBD shops that, of course, weren’t
there in years past.
I forgot to return to Duke’s for the seafood,
but I did go to Cafe Du Monde and
The Court of the Two Sisters Buffet.
Flavors staying with me long after
delicacies were consumed. As the titles
ingrained themselves in my memory –
Red Beans, Shrimp Etouffee, Gumbo,
Jambalaya. And I’m left with two
certainties: New Orleans calls me like
no other city ever has and I will definitely
return.
Chicagoan Shontay Luna is a poet, blogger and fanfiction author. Her work first appeared in Anthology and Capper’s and her most recent appearances include The Crucible, Press II Press and Blue Lake Review. Her newest book is ‘The Goddess Journal – a tool for unlocking the Goddess within every Woman.’
THE CITY KEY 