Poems, Prayers & Promises: New Orleans

Say it 3 times fast

The title of today's entry is swiped from the title of John Denver's breakout album from 1971.  That's the only John Denver reference I'm going to use today because, frankly, I don't think Mr. Denver had much to do with New Orleans.  Over the course of my research, however, I did find this college football clip that interested me, if only because I'm from Connecticut (UCONN stand for University of Connecticut):



What would the Connecticut fans be singing if UCONN had won?  Connecticut's state song is 'Yankee Doodle,' a tune that gets a Nutmegger's blood boiling with pride whenever we hear it.  Try singing it at breakfast sometime.  I'll stand up and salute you.  It's a reflex.


Enough of this foolishness, though, eh?  You're here to read about what's going on in New Orleans right now.  Here's your answer: not much.

It's the slow season in our fair city.  It's hot.  It's humid.  People from out of town wilt within the first half hour outside of air conditioning.  You have to live here awhile to enjoy New Orleans in August, like a frog in a pan of water on the stove.

That said, several dozen restaurants in town are participating in Coolinary New Orleans, a city-wide lunch or dinner special that runs throughout the month and costs $39 or less per three-course meal.  Not bad.  There are plenty of good meals to sample.  It's all a part of the "Be a Tourist in Your Home Town" movement.  Of course, as innkeepers, we try to be tourists all the time---all the better to make recommendations to our guests.

This is the time of year when we go to the French Quarter.  It's much less crowded.  If you are coming during Mardi Gras, you don't have a choice.  You have to go to the Quarter at its most hedonistically congested.  We live here. We can wait until August to have dinner at Antoine's.  We do go during the year, but August is our favorite time of the year.

Our back yard

The oleander tree in our back yard is in bloom again.  A lot of the trees bloom several times a year.  If it weren't for the fluctuating heat, you'd never know there are seasons here.  The trees don't really lose their leaves the way they do in New England.  

Apropos of nothing, I'd like to change the subject.  

Did you know that the people who rent rooms on Airbnb are just simple folk, amateurs who are just renting a spare bedroom to help pay their mortgage?



I have to admit, I don't spend a lot of time thinking about Airbnb, nor do I enjoy the company of innkeepers who harp on how unfair it is that they have to comply with the law while plenty of people rent rooms illegally, convert whole buildings into small hotels, essentially, and rent them out on Airbnb.  This will all shake itself out eventually.  In my mind, you can't replace an honest professional innkeeper who is invested in doing things the right way, obeying the laws, respecting the neighbors and the neighborhood's integrity as a valued corporate citizen.  

It sounds nice when I put it that way, doesn't it.  That's because I'm from Connecticut, the Land of Steady Habits.  Frau Schmitt is from Germany, a country well known for citizens who obey the rules.

I was reading some online commentary about the Airbnb brouhaha (New Orleans is inundated with illegal short term rentals via Airbnb and VRBO (Vacation Rental by Owner)).  One comment said, "I moved to New Orleans because it's a pirate city!  It has a history of breaking the laws!"

A pirate city

I don't know where that joker lives but I'm sure his neighbors less-than adore him.  Unless, of course, all his neighbors are only here for the weekend because they got rooms through Airbnb.  Large swathes of the Marigny and the Bywater are nothing else.  No full time citizens; just people in town to experience the real New Orleans surrounded by other strangers.

Frau Schmitt and your humble narrator are not pirates.  We are dowdy sticks-in-the-mud who believe in being responsible members of our community, sharing our city with visitors, sure, but not hollowing out our neighborhood or creating a nuisance at our settled neighbors' expense.  In the middle of the night, when the tenants at the illegal rental on the corner are getting loud, it's me who goes outside and asks them to quiet down.  "People live here.  Do you sit on your front porch and swear loudly at 2:00AM where you live?"  A: "Sorry sir."  They usually go to bed after that.

We hope you'll consider staying with us when you come to New Orleans.  We aren't in the French Quarter.  We live in a real neighborhood, a neighborhood that is mostly made up of people who live here.  It's really quite pleasant.  We love where we live.  We hope you will, too.  

New Orleans is an alliterative poem, one verse building off the last, leading to the next.  New Orleans is a fervent prayer in the dark night of the soul that gets repeated every daybreak.  New Orleans is a kept promise.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.