New Orleans 2008 - "New Year's Eve Part 1 - Gator for Lunch, Snails for Dinner"

The plan for day two was to start out with beignets for breakfast down at Cafe Du Monde, and then see what tours and activities we could do to entertain ourselves until things got rolling later that night. Unfortunately, everyone else in town wanted beignets too, and the line stretched much longer down the block than we were comfortable with.

Our alternative was a restaurant off of Jackson Square called "The Alpine." Our Katrina group ate their the last night we were in town, and it was just enough off of the beaten path such that we were able to walk in and get a table without a wait. This is what a gator po boy sandwich looks like:

A little on the spicy side, but very very good. Nothing beats New Orleans French bread.

Now well fed, we were up for a trek out to Chalmette to see what had happened to the houses I worked on after Hurricane Katrina. We grabbed our maps and the rental car and hit the road.

I had originally estimated that the entire trek out there would take about 2 hours. Forty five minutes out there, and 45 back, with a few minutes for pictures at each place. The group I had worked with was eager to see photos and learn all that had happened since we were there. Kristin and I quickly realized that this was going to be a more daunting task, as none of the street signs blown over or around in the storm had been replaced. There were a few more people on the roads, and a few more businesses open, but overall very little had changed since we were there almost 2 years ago.

I figured that one of two things would have happened in the time since we were there. Either the houses would have been demolished entirely, or they would be rehabbed and have happy people living in them. What surprised me most was that little to no progress had been made at all.

Our first stop was at Rowley Elementary School, where Hilltop rescue had established their base camp. At the time, the school's first level had been washed out, and there was nothing but raw studs and limited light. Chain link fence surrounded the school to protect it from looters. A FEMA camp next door housed approximately 100 trailers, with armed guards posted at the entrances to prevent the infiltration of gangs and drug dealers.

Today, the school is back to normal. The barbed wire is gone, and lower windows are no longer boarded up. However there are not enough children in the area to support it as an elementary school. It's currently being used as an alternative school, with the hopes that at some point it will be needed for it's original intent in the future. You will note that more than 2 years later, the FEMA park still stands.

This house, which faced the school really moved me. While many people spray painted their cell#'s on their houses as a means for contact, these folks clearly were not going to be coming back. There is a sign written on the wall in the car port that says, "Don't worry- Mom is OK."

Today, it is the only one on the street that was demolished. A handful of residents have moved back.

From there it was on to Mr. Duffy's house, which was difficult to recognize since there were only about 5 houses in the entire neighborhood still standing. Almost everything in the area is now a concrete slab, but the Duffy house and the house across the street are still standing.

This was how it was when we first got there in 2006 and worked:

Today, the grass has been cut, and the tools outside of the garage give the impression that someone is working on it, but it clearly is not inhabitable:

I was pleased to see that my personal favorite house across the street had been rehabilitated and had residents living in it. This was the house where we took our breaks at ate lunch on the steps:

This was it in 2006:

And this is it in 2008. I definitely like the former color. :)

We saw the same thing at the LaMarque House a few blocks away. Unlike the Duffy neighborhood, where most of the houses had been demolished, the shells of houses still stood with a few more residents.

This was the LaMarque House in 2006:

Here's what it looks like today. The windows have been replaced, and the interior has been covered in plastic, but the search insignia is still painted on the wall next to the garage.

That was all we had time for that day. I made one more trek out to Chalmette before we left, and was able to find the street where the shrimp boat landed in the middle of the neighborhood. This tract of houses backed to the levy, and had the most damage. The boat below landed here, 15 miles from its mooring, or any other body of water that could support it.

How would you like to see this coming at your front yard? The boat burned down about a year sgo, so I didn't take photos of that area. Very little on the street has changed. Time prevented me from getting out to the last house, but overall I felt the trek was successful.

While I was happy to see that none of our work was demolished the moment we left town, I was somewhat disappointed to see so little progress in that time. All the more reason to go back soon.

But there was little time to dwell on it, it was time to get ready for new year's eve. Talk to you soon,

K

New Orleans 2008 - Day One: "Hurricanes and Horse Drool"

So almost 2 years after the Katrina trip, I was able to join Kristin and PJ for some New Year's fun in New Orleans.

The traveling process itself was uneventful. My parents generously donated some expiring miles to allow me to ride in first class, which I'm coming to believe is simply the section for rich alcoholics. Yes, I know the booze is free, but that doesn't mean you have to double-fist it the moment yout roller bag is stowed in the overhead compartment. In my limited first class experience, I have yet to have a flight where at least one person sitting around me doesn't get completely plastered before we reach our cruising altitude.

This trip was no exception. I was originally seated next to a 12 year old, who switched seats so that he could sit near his mom. My new seatmate, an executive in her 50's, explained she was happy the kid moved to another row because "She didn't feel comfortable drinking in front of children." I nodded sagely and went back to my book. She summoned the flight attendant and asked for the first of what would be about 4 vodka and Sprites for the day. She would then spend the next 2 hours telling me about a family tragedy she had suffered over the holidays in graphic detail, ignoring my politely dismissive nods, and my nose firmly planted in a book. Did I mention it was 7:30 in the morning?

We had a plane full of football fans, as I believe everyone from the state of Hawaii left the islands to see their home team play in the Superdome. We took off from John Wayne early Sunday morning, and arrived in New Orleans at about 4 in the afternoon. We got the rental car, and were on our way to a weekend of what we hoped would be a symphony of food, drink, football and general merriment.

Our hotel, the Homewood Suites, was a very nice hotel a block or two from the Superbowl. Since it was the holiday and two big football games were coming, security measures were stepped up in the hotel. All guests needed to wear a green wristband and have a room key to even get into the lobby of the hotel. If you didn't have both, you were out of luck. We were also given red wristbands to any guests we would want to bring in. We were given three each, and in an homage to Seinfeld, had to determine whether or not individuals were " Wrist-band worthy."

The desk clerk at the hotel was friendly, as almost everyone in New Orleans is, and gave us the rundown on what we should and shouldn't do in the city. We were told that it was perfectly safe in the city because (and I quote) "we have the National Guard here and everything." Yeah, I had seen enough news stories and episodes of "Cops - Mardi Gras" to know that keeping an eye out for trouble at all times was a good idea.

We caught up with PJ a short time later, and made dinner plans. K and I were both starving, but the big group couldn't meet until a bit later. We decided to grab a quick bite at McDonalds to tide us over until we could eat the big meal with everyone.

Going to McDonalds on Canal Street was something of an experience. It was packed with people, and employed by six of the least motivated individuals I have ever seen. Having lived a couple of years in the south, I realized that things moved a lot slower here than they did back home, but this took it to the extreme.

Strawberri (the actual name on her badge), the only one working the cash register, greeted customers with the same level of interest I have for cleaning the cat box. She spoke in a mumble, and having to repeat herself seemed like a terribly arduous chore. We waited about 15 minutes for her to take the orders of three customers. In that time we listened to two older gentlemen harrassing the rest of the workers in a somewhat friendly manner, and were approached by a man looking for a dollar. None of us could get out of there fast enough.

On the walk back to the hotel, we found this little hole-in-the wall bar, "Marie Laveau's Voodoo Bar" manned by a 20-something bartender named Sabrina. She was extremely friendly and sat and chatted with us about the city for quite some time. She also made a deadly lemon drop, with which we toasted the start of a fantastic trip.

PJ had three people working for him, two of which came to dinner with us. When everyone was together, we took a cab down to the Garden District for Hurricanes and hamburgers at a bar that was the first to open after Katrina. One bite of the burger and it was easy to see why the place was packed. Just fantastic food, and wonderful drinks. The hurricanes came in 32 ounce glasses and while they were almost entirely alcohol, they tasted dangerously like Hawaiian Punch. Then it was a slow walk back to the hotel through the French Quarter, taking in the sights and working our way through the crowds.

The thing I love most about the French Quarter is its cacophony of sound. Stop in any part of the Quarter, and you can hear at least 4 different live bands playing at the same time....and all of them are outstanding. Jazz, zydeco, blues, rock, it all blends together and draws you in. I could walk along and listen there for hours.

The majority of Burbon Street was packed with people, getting drunker with every passing hour. Boosters from Hawaii, Georgia and LSU rented balconies, and packed them with bead tossing fans. Naturally people were gathering below to cheer, talk smack and try and catch beads. This blocks off the street, and makes it very difficult to get past. Threading your way through the crowds can be a challenge, but not terrible.

We did have one incident where we unwittingly walked into the middle of a fist-fight that had started in a bar and made its way onto the street. Two guys wrestled each other to the ground right in front of us...and PJ, who never misses an opportunity to stir the pot, makes a comment suggesting that they belonged in the gay bar at the opposite end of Bourbon streets. .....and then continues walking.

What he didn't see (but Kristin and I did) was the fact that one of the drunken rednecks took exception to the fact that PJ questioned his heterosexuality, and started to go after him. A couple of his buddies stopped him before a punch was thrown, but it was a tense moment.

It was at that point when we decided to call it a night. We started working our way through the crowds back to the hotel, and a felt something brush against the top of my head. Kristin pulled me out of the way of one of the NOPD mounted police horses, who was kind enough to get horse drool on the back of my head. Though horse drool is probably better than some other bodily fluid, it wasn't the souvenior I was hoping to take home with me that night.

Came home a little after midnight, looking forward to a fun New Year's Eve. Will share more with photos tomorrow. ;)

K

New Orleans - Days Four and Five

The last working day in New Orleans, and by far the toughest one of the bunch. We all discussed the fact that had this been the first house we worked on, it might have been our last. :)

It took us a while to find this house. None of the houses were easy to find, but this was a little tougher than most because it was off the main roads. There are no street lights, very few street signs, and those that are there are frequently blown or washed a different direction so that you have no idea which of the directions is the correct one. Each morning we would get a packet of information about the homeowner and a map to the house. More often than not we relied on Mapquest's distance meters (go 0.6 miles) rather than signs because there was no guarantee you were going the right way.

The home belonged to an elderly woman named Rose, who we did not get to meet because she was too sick to come to the house. A lot of the elderly owners we worked with could not come into their homes because simply coming to visit may have made them sicker than they already were. In her place were her two children, a son and daughter in their 40's, who greeted us and pointed us towards the front door. As we passed through, it became instantly clear why her kids wanted nothing to do with the place.

We all have friends and family members who are, "collectors." They save every scrap of paper, bit of clothing and memento they have ever received. This woman was one of those people. She had more than 100 purses, and about as many pairs of shoes. Closets were packed with endless amounts of clothes. She was a craft person, so boxes and crates of supplies filled and entire room of her home. Every room was packed at least halfway to the ceiling and all of it was covered in a thick layer of water and mud. Like most people who were evacuated, she locked her doors and windows before leaving. The water came in quickly, but not much got out. Most was soaked into her belongings, and after 9 months and 90+ degree temperatures, the results were pretty horrendous. I would guess that there was about 6 inches of mud throughout the house, and another 4 inches of fetid stagnant water on top of that. The mold cultures on the walls were unreal.

Unlike the last two houses, where the people were charming, gracious and helped where they could, this woman's kids were uninterested in lending a hand. Several of us got a "hired help" kind of vibe from them. They didn't come in much beyond the front door while we slogged through the muck, lifting out waterlogged couches, and easy chairs and closets full of clothing. The son stayed in the front yard and talked on his cell phone all day, while her daughter worried about getting her white tennis shoes dirty. They bought us pizza for lunch, but did not eat it with us because one of our team members warned them that we all smelled pretty bad.

We shoveled and carted wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of muck into a pile in the front yard. Roaches the size of your thumb, maggots everywhere with a heat index somewhere in the upper 90's. Smells I can't begin to describe, but still taste in the back of my throat today. At one point Kathy Perkins and I pulled out two giant (3f t high, 3 ft long, 2 ft wide) Rubbermaid tubs full of clothing out of a closet. Both were filled with clothes, black water, and the vilest yellow gelatinous slime you have ever seen. The tubs were too heavy to lift, so we had to first empty as much as we could to allow Sheri Wright to cart them out with a wheelbarrow. We would take out one handful of clothing, then walk away for a few seconds to catch our breath and convince ourselves that we weren't going to vomit. We'd then go back, grab another piece of clothing and repeat the process again.

A van would bring us to the work site each day, and we were followed by a truck and small trailer that carried all of our gear. About 6 wheelbarrows, shovels, rakes, sledgehammers and crowbars. There were buckets of personal safety equipment in there too. Everyone had to wear masks some sort of eye protection and hardhats, as the weakened ceilings could drop items that had been stashed in the attic.

As nasty as this house was, it had the one thing that made us happier than any of the previous visits.. Two doors down was a real flushing toilet that the owner allowed us to use.. Yep. None of the houses we went to had any sort of useable plumbing, so we were told that the "facilities" were anywhere behind the house where we couldn't be seen. If a FEMA trailer was placed anywhere nearby where a resident was living, there would be an associated port-a-potty, so two of our team members would scope their locations as we drove in, noting how far away they were from the work-site. I thankfully did not need to take advantage of said facilities, but honestly, I'm not sure if peeing behind a house is any less appealing than a port-a-potty in Louisiana in 95+ degree weather.

At lunchtime, we went next door and sat under a tree to eat. There were very few people in any of the neighborhoods at all, let alone residents who would care that a group of smelly strangers had camped out on what was left of their lawns. Most of the areas we worked were complete ghost towns.

If I have learned one thing about this experience it is that none of us need 90% of the stuff we have. I urge everyone to think about their house, and think about a stranger having to go through and clean out all of your stuff. The closets, the garages, the back bedrooms that are repositories for all of the things we keep, but aren't sure where to put. Now soak all of it in swamp water and let it cook for 9 months. The result is far from pretty. Spring cleanings are very very important.

People have asked me if I saw evidence that blamed FEMA, the President, the Army Corps of Engineers. I think just about all of them can take a small piece, but I think that there was just no way to predict or prepare for a storm of that magnitude. All you can really do is be as prepared as you can, and always have an escape route of your own.

What I can credit are the volunteer groups who come from all over the country to work incredibly hard for people they don't even know. Most of the workers are college students, who have an enthusiasm and energy that is impressive. When I got off the plan in Louisiana on Sunday, I would guess that 30% of the passengers waiting for luggage were relief workers. I was talking to another girl who had taken a semester off of school to stay at the base camp and continue working. She is not unique, as many students I talked to had similar stories and no plans to leave. If the people want to come back to New Orleans, they will have a place waiting for them, and when they do they should thank those young people.

A short video (with sound) shows you an example of what they are working in, though I'm guessing this house was already half done when filming began. The debris pile out front of the house that they show you is what has been pulled out of the house by this team. This is from the Hilltop web site:

http://www.hilltoprescue.org/videos/muck/


Hilltop Rescue is an amazing organization, and while I don't necessarily agree with all of their religious ideologies, they are doing wonderful work there. One of their organizers explained that when fully staffed, they complete 35 houses each day. There are tens of thousands of houses in Louisiana alone that have not been touched. But there are lots of charities doing similar good work. Yes, they need financial donations, but physical labor is needed just as badly. If you ever thought about wanting to make a difference, I would strongly urge you to consider volunteering.

We didn't finish Rose's house, but were able to clear everything out of the house before we left. The only thing left to do was knock out the drywall and insulation, which another team from our group would return to do later in the week. When we started, we didn't think there was any way we were going to get as far as we did, so we left our last job with a real feeling of accomplishment.

After washing up and getting a quick nap, we went out and had one last evening downtown that I can only describe as magical. We drove down to the French Quarter, and walked around Jackson Square to an outdoor courtyard cafe, complete with candle-light and a fountain.

We sat under the stars on a warm summer night, eating gumbo and jambalaya, while a musician played "La vie en rose" on a saxophone. I looked around at everyone talking and laughing after such a long hard week and realized what an amazing experience this was. We had all worked so hard, and knew that we had made a difference for people who didn't have a lot of other options, and that feeling alone was satisfying.

From dinner we walked down to Cafe Du Monde for coffee and some bengiets, then a stroll along the Mississippi to look at the riverboats and take one last look at the city at night. I could not have planned a more perfect evening.

I am *so* glad I did this. Would I do it again? Definitely, but I think my house mucking days are over. I would go down and help with the charities cooking and cleaning and logistics in a heart beat, and still may do that at some point later this year. It's going to take me a while to forget the muck, and I think I will leave that to more able-bodied individuals.

Thanks for reading, I now need a nap. :)

New Orleans - Day Three

You know it has been a hard working day when you come home and discover pieces of drywall in your underpants

Today was harder in a lot of respects from yesterday, in that this house had furniture and carpet almost entirely through the house....under several inches of muck. But ultimately we all agreed that today was a lot more satisfying.

Today's house was the home of Patrick and Antoinette Duffy, and their house backed up to the levy leaving the house under 20 feet of water. Patrick is 85 years old, a retired New Orleans Policeman, and a veteran of World War II. When we got to the house, we asked if there was anything specific he wanted to salvage or look for as we worked. He said that there wasn't much he cared to salvage, but he wanted to find the rifle he carried when he stormed Omaha Beach.

He had tried to come in and search himself, but this house was so full of junk and sludge, there was no way he was going to find much of anything. At 85, he was in great shape, but still somewhat frail. Regardless, he sat out in the 90+ weather, watching us gut his house, and helping wherever and whenever he could.

Now, like most other policemen, he had other guns somewhere in the muck, and ammunition to go with them. All of the guns were loaded, so we had to be exceedingly careful as we worked, but we did not want to leave until we found his rifle.

I found his service revolver early in the morning, and it was so covered in mud that it looked like something salvaged off the Titanic, one of our marines (an artillery guy, go fig) cleaned it off as best he could, and returned it to him.

We didn't find his rifle until about an hour before our job was done. Our artillery guy looked up in the rafters and found it just above his head. Mr. Duffy was amazed and thrilled at the find, and couldn't thank him enough. It suffered some water damage, but not nearly as much as the other weapons. He participates in a lot of veterans ceremonies locally, and he said that there was a support group that would take it and clean it thoroughly for him. It probably wouldn't be serviceable, but would still be saved for display for him.

Before we left, we got a photo with him and our entire team, and one of him and the servicemen (3 marines and one soldier) on our team. I can't wait to send those along.

That aside, his house was an immense chore. The resulting debris pile was probably 10 yards long, 3 yards wide and 6 feet tall. With the exception of some bumps and bruises here and there, everyone seemed to do pretty well. This is an amazing group of people to work with, and not once have we heard a single complaint or whimper out of anyone....in spite of the fact that every single one of us has plenty of reason to. When we finished, he thanked us profusely, and wanted each of our addresses so that he could send us individual thank-yous. We got the address of where he is living, and promised to send him a list.

We headed back to base camp, and there the chow line was ready for us with the best jambalaya I have ever eaten. This charity group is exceedingly well organized, and the food is extremely satisfying for hungry workers at the beginning and end of each day. There are lots of families camped here, younger kids just out of school for the summer have been brought here by their parents, and lots of college kids from all over the country.

At dinner we spoke with one of the organizers of the group and asked a lot of questions about how the process worked. He said that their group intended to stay camped and working until the job was done.....possibly another 2-3 years. Residents sign up with the charity to have their home worked on, and priority is given to those 65+, and financially in need.

The residents have to meet us at the house at the start of the work session for two reasons. First of all, it is exceedingly hard for the workers to stand this muck without knowing who they are working for. It's a real motivating factor. Secondly, having the residents there means that we will not find them inside the house. They pulled another body out yesterday, and more will undoubtedly come as there are countless houses that have not yet been touched. The group has found many dogs and cats, and occasionally we run across something alive. Today our guys lifted a mattress to the intense displeasure of a giant rat living underneath it, and a water moccasin was found by another team yesterday. We keep our eyes open at all times, as we never know what's going to be found around the corner.

Well, it's waaaay past my bedtime, and there's another home to look forward to tomorrow.

New Orleans - Day Two

My intent was to chronicle the events of the day each evening before going to bed. But after our first day of working, we are all too tired to move, let alone think clear enough to be lucid, so things will be brief tonight.

We worked on a single house, digging out the inches of mud and sludge in the floor, tearing down sheet rock and insulation. Freezers, fridges have not been touched in 9 months, and washing machines, bathtubs and sinks were filled with a gellatanous sludge, the smell of which I cannot even come close to describing. We are working great as a group, and everyone is giving it their all. We were matched with some students from the Unversity of Redlands, and we missed the entire Redlands football team by a month. Small small world.

The home was owned by Emile and Kathy LeMarque. Emile was close to retiring when Katrina hit, and Kathy is battling cancer. As hard as the labor was, we all agreed that having to sit and watch your worldly belongings be covered in sludge, and dumped into a giant pile in the front yard is probably a lot harder

By the time the 15 of us were done, the house was gutted down to the studs and the floor was clean. There was a definite feeling of accomplishment.

Tomorrow's a new house, and hopefully I will have enough time and energy to fill in the details about the group we're with, and the conditions they are living under. As exhausted as we are, there are some who have been here since January, doing this job 6 days per week. Their stamina is dumbfounding.

New Orleans - Day One

I apologize in advance for not having photos with this, but I didn't manage to rustle my digital camera out of my bag until this evening. Hopefully I will have a chance to take some tomorrow.

Arrived in New Orleans this afternoon, and was scheduled to meet up with the relief team just before 7pm. Weather was 90 degrees and muggy (of course) but it wasn't nearly as bad as I feared it would be. Granted, I haven't done a lick of work yet, so my opinion might be different tomorrow night, but that's where it stands at the moment.

The area around the airport seemed to be mostly in tact. The only indication I could see that Katrina had even been there were numerous billboards from a variety of different companies saying "We're back."

As we got on I-10 to go downtown, however, the scene was very different. I was at Ground Zero 3 months after September 11th, and it didn't look as bad as downtown New Orleans does almost a year later. The Superdome has a big sign that says the Saints will be coming back in the 2007 season, but the roof is still torn up, and chain link fencing surrounds most of it and everything else in the area.

We passed the infamous university hospital, and the hotels were people were sequestered...all still boarded up, and all very very eerie.

Our hotel is just around the corner from there. It's one of the few businesses open in the area, and I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that it's possible that our group of 10 are the only folks staying here. It's a beautiful high-rise hotel, built in 1932 and was originally the Sears Roebuck building. We have been told that maid service will not be available every day, and possibly no more than once during the week that we are here. I personally don't mind, as I sit here with free internet in air conditioned comfort, as opposed to a cot in the elementary school where the majority of the relief workers are based.

Everyone walked down to the French Quarter for dinner, and had the quintessential (but alcohol free because we had students with us) New Orleans experience. We had dinner at a hotel on the corner of Bourbon street, on a 2nd floor balcony, with the music of several different jazz clubs playing. It was a hot muggy evening, but the music was great, the food was yummy, and capped a perfect day. :)

We're meeting in the morning to go out to St. Bernard Parish....into what has been termed as the hardest hit, and most impoverished areas. Our task (as I understand it at the moment) is to help folks move stuff out of their houses and salvage what we can, and re-build what we can. The relief group we're working with is providing meals and all the water we can drink during the day so that we stay safe. I have more tools and gear than I know what to do with, so I am very confident that I'll be covered in that regard.

Well, 5am central time is going to come very early, so I had better cut things off here. I'll keep you posted on everything else that's going on.