hi-5 and free shit

You probably think that now that I’m in New Orleans my life has been one long Southern Comfort fueled adventure because, you know, GO CUP!  Or that I’ve picked up smoking again because you can smoke in bars here. Or that I sleep in until three in the afternoon and nurse hangovers until six in the evening only to end the throbbing skull pain with the hair of the dogs that bit me.
 

And while I have consumed much Southern Comfort (and PBR with lime—a habit that seems to disgust my new friend Pablo) and I have had a few drags of cigarettes (and regretted it--coughing) I have surprisingly been in bed before midnight most nights, and waking up around eight or nine.

This is to say-- if I had bought into the many stereotypes about New Orleans I’d feel really stupid right now. 

Thankfully I didn’t and now I feel really right about being here. The town is friendly. On Sunday Jon and I went out for lunch. When I told our waiter that I’d just move here he smiled broadly and high fived me. For the most part everyone who has learned that I’m new has been really excited for me. The lady at the pizza place, everyone at the Mardi Gras party I attended, Cher and Pablo’s friends, Cher’s boss and coworkers, and general strangers who have found out. 

Of course my newbie-ness, I think, also tries the patience of my new friends. I have a habit of wanting to leave the house at five to meet a parade that won’t be near our intersection of the city for another hour and half. The light, “Oh Nomi, you’re so green.” Attitude is to be expected from those who live here. It would be like someone from the east coming to New Mexico and pronouncing “chile” as “chili.” I’d pull rank and authority on those people just as much as my new friends are educating me.
 

I’m glad we left early for the parade just the same. There was an armoire sitting around the corner. A few drawers to be repaired, but then my clothes will have a place to live (instead of in space bags). I took the free furniture as a sign—a welcoming high five from the city itself.   

Now if only the city could welcome me with a free bicycle and a great job! 

Thankfully I am prepared for the walking around town. Though I do need some drinking and walking conditioning—Mardi Gras stroll from the Garden District to Frenchman street while drinking PBR and High Life (without lime L ) and Southern Comfort, under the weight of 5 pounds of beads…. That was a little rough. Not the normal circumstances for strolling about. I live near Magazine Street, which is essentially a foodie slash fashionistas wet dream. Shops and cafes galore. The synagogue I will be joining is just a short stroll down St. Charles. A grocery store, Walgreens, Ace Hardware are all a hop skip and a jump away.

With a bicycle all things are possible in this town. There are bikes everywhere… EVERYWHERE! I can’t wait until I can abbreviate my traveling with a quick and breezy bike ride. I’ve actually threatened to get a job as a pedi-cab driver. I have a feeling I would making bangin’ bucks in tips if people have to stare at my flexing buttocks in bike shorts. 

Joking aside, finding a job here will be significantly easier than in Las Cruces. Mainly because there are jobs to be had of every shape, size and shift. A new friend says he might be able to help me get a job in a Daiquiri shop in the Quarter. Not exactly the type of community oriented position I’ve been hoping for—but for now something like that can help me earn a lot of money in a very short amount of time. I have an apartment to save up for, and about a dozen restaurants down Magazine that I’m itching to try. Not to mention many many many adorable shops full of very very adorable red shoes and dresses with roosters on them.

….

We all know that I moved here for so many reasons. Inspired reasons. Heartbreaking reasons. Reasons that have been really good reasons for a really long time. And reasons that are brand new and twice as convincing. 

When you make a move like this… expectation can build. It can be really easy to regret your decision to abandon all you know, to run away from problems that couldn’t have be solved anyway, to take on something so bewilderingly new and risk the chance at it being a huge mistake that will only further burn and bother bridges that were about to come down.

This city will not disappoint my expectations. In these first few shaking days I’ve come to discover that New Orleans is happy to have me. And I’m happy to be here. Happy to explore. Happy to feel welcomed. Happy for opportunities that should have been mine a long time ago. 

And yes, happy for go cups too.