Ruminations on moving.
My husband and I invariably get "the look" from people when we explain that we're moving to New Orleans. Yeah, "the look." Then we get a polite "oh" or "wow" or nothing at all but a nod and smile.
Looking around at our current environs, the big open west, people can't understand why we'd be leaving the beauty of the canyons. True, Utah is one of the most beautiful places in the lower 48. It's wild, it's remote, and it's shockingly gorgeous. And I have enjoyed our six-plus years here as much as I could, small town nonsense notwithstanding. The hiking and camping is second to none, and the air and water are clean. There is little crime, and we have left town for a few days with the keys in the car, forgetting. Because where there isn't crime, you just sort of stop fearing those scenarios of bad teens or crack-heads stealing your car.
Moving to New Orleans is alright with me for the time being. I love the town, the people are really great, and my in-laws that live there are really great people that, before, I may not have had a chance to meet and get to know. The fact of the matter is we both need a change. We need a break from small town bullshit that is worse than the worst high school clique crap you could imagine--then compound that with an insular religious majority that could care less if you dropped off the face of the earth and you get the picture. We need a break from living somewhere that is SO remote that the closest REAL grocery store or Home Depot is 2 1/2 hours' driving, one way, from our front door. We need a break from the outdoor industry, which we have been involved in since 1995 for him, 1996 for me. And I am bored with it. There is no intellectual stimulation in it for me and I feel, at this point, that I am going through the motions. And that is a bad sign. It's time to move on, professionally and geographically.
As troubled as New Orleans is, and as concerned (or perplexed) as some are about the city as a transition way point for us, I can honestly say that the place is a great match for us. It is challenging to live there in several ways but we are up to it, particularly since we have no complete working kitchen-we're a cooktop away from one though. We're camping people, used to hard conditions, so that wasn't really a problem for us. Plus, we could always run downstairs and borrow our cousin's kitchen in a pinch (she's wonderful like that). We stayed in the unit we were working in with no furniture except two camping chairs and a folding table. We slept on the floor on an inflatable mattress. No sweat.
It's a new place to "learn" about--from streets, highways and bypasses, to people, food, and cultural customs. It's a whole new part of the United States for us...a new eco-system, new scenery, and new politics. Consumption of alcohol isn't regulated there or looked down on. The food is mostly incredible, as are the local ingredients that make it so. We can go to the supermarket in minutes and find liquor (whoa!) as well as decent produce. A veterinarian is only minutes away as well. And the dentist? Well, I'm sure that the same holds true. No more insidious commutes for us this winter...and no snow.
We may have "fish-out-of-water" syndrome in New Orleans. You know the old story, about how country folk moving to the big city wind their way around in a charmed manner. That may only be half-true this time as we have been there twice since Katrina: for a month last December, and for month this past July. Last time, we were getting used to locking the car, used to hearing traffic 24 hours a day, used to occasional gun fire, and used to various and sundry police sirens and ambulance wails. I still look around in awe when we go on walks through the Garden District, but you better believe I'm watching my back.
I had only been to New Orleans once before in my life...many many years ago in the early 90s. I can't remember much about it except that, as a youngster in my 20s, I drank too much. When I finally returned again last December I was concerned about the amount of trash around the building where we were working, so I started picking it up, as if everyone in New Orleans would do that. Ha! When I was back this July, the trash was back and so were thousands more people. I declined to pick anything up for fear of disease. Maybe that "fish-out-of-water" thing may not be so pronounced...except for my clothing choices which are from the mountain-girl-thrift-store-disaster school with some fleece thrown in. That will probably give me away as a non-local. That and my decidedly midwestern accent, being a Kansas City native.
At the least, my husband and I have to build a kitchen, do some painting, build a wall, move a door, and re-grout some tile. At the most we'll be looking for other jobs in and around the city. As a former small business owner this will be the most fun, I think. Because I know what I'm worth, what I will put up with and what I won't, what I would do for free just to learn and what I'd have to paid A LOT to do. I can't wait to see how my new life unfolds. I am an adventurer, and moving to New Orleans is about the most intense urban adventure that one could have in the 21st century in America. And I'll be writing.
Keep reading.
Looking around at our current environs, the big open west, people can't understand why we'd be leaving the beauty of the canyons. True, Utah is one of the most beautiful places in the lower 48. It's wild, it's remote, and it's shockingly gorgeous. And I have enjoyed our six-plus years here as much as I could, small town nonsense notwithstanding. The hiking and camping is second to none, and the air and water are clean. There is little crime, and we have left town for a few days with the keys in the car, forgetting. Because where there isn't crime, you just sort of stop fearing those scenarios of bad teens or crack-heads stealing your car.
Moving to New Orleans is alright with me for the time being. I love the town, the people are really great, and my in-laws that live there are really great people that, before, I may not have had a chance to meet and get to know. The fact of the matter is we both need a change. We need a break from small town bullshit that is worse than the worst high school clique crap you could imagine--then compound that with an insular religious majority that could care less if you dropped off the face of the earth and you get the picture. We need a break from living somewhere that is SO remote that the closest REAL grocery store or Home Depot is 2 1/2 hours' driving, one way, from our front door. We need a break from the outdoor industry, which we have been involved in since 1995 for him, 1996 for me. And I am bored with it. There is no intellectual stimulation in it for me and I feel, at this point, that I am going through the motions. And that is a bad sign. It's time to move on, professionally and geographically.
As troubled as New Orleans is, and as concerned (or perplexed) as some are about the city as a transition way point for us, I can honestly say that the place is a great match for us. It is challenging to live there in several ways but we are up to it, particularly since we have no complete working kitchen-we're a cooktop away from one though. We're camping people, used to hard conditions, so that wasn't really a problem for us. Plus, we could always run downstairs and borrow our cousin's kitchen in a pinch (she's wonderful like that). We stayed in the unit we were working in with no furniture except two camping chairs and a folding table. We slept on the floor on an inflatable mattress. No sweat.
It's a new place to "learn" about--from streets, highways and bypasses, to people, food, and cultural customs. It's a whole new part of the United States for us...a new eco-system, new scenery, and new politics. Consumption of alcohol isn't regulated there or looked down on. The food is mostly incredible, as are the local ingredients that make it so. We can go to the supermarket in minutes and find liquor (whoa!) as well as decent produce. A veterinarian is only minutes away as well. And the dentist? Well, I'm sure that the same holds true. No more insidious commutes for us this winter...and no snow.
We may have "fish-out-of-water" syndrome in New Orleans. You know the old story, about how country folk moving to the big city wind their way around in a charmed manner. That may only be half-true this time as we have been there twice since Katrina: for a month last December, and for month this past July. Last time, we were getting used to locking the car, used to hearing traffic 24 hours a day, used to occasional gun fire, and used to various and sundry police sirens and ambulance wails. I still look around in awe when we go on walks through the Garden District, but you better believe I'm watching my back.
I had only been to New Orleans once before in my life...many many years ago in the early 90s. I can't remember much about it except that, as a youngster in my 20s, I drank too much. When I finally returned again last December I was concerned about the amount of trash around the building where we were working, so I started picking it up, as if everyone in New Orleans would do that. Ha! When I was back this July, the trash was back and so were thousands more people. I declined to pick anything up for fear of disease. Maybe that "fish-out-of-water" thing may not be so pronounced...except for my clothing choices which are from the mountain-girl-thrift-store-disaster school with some fleece thrown in. That will probably give me away as a non-local. That and my decidedly midwestern accent, being a Kansas City native.
At the least, my husband and I have to build a kitchen, do some painting, build a wall, move a door, and re-grout some tile. At the most we'll be looking for other jobs in and around the city. As a former small business owner this will be the most fun, I think. Because I know what I'm worth, what I will put up with and what I won't, what I would do for free just to learn and what I'd have to paid A LOT to do. I can't wait to see how my new life unfolds. I am an adventurer, and moving to New Orleans is about the most intense urban adventure that one could have in the 21st century in America. And I'll be writing.
Keep reading.
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