What I Love About The South
I recently made a trip back to Louisiana for a visit and I realized that after a year in California, there were definitely some things that I miss about living in the South.
As I’ve written about before, I was born in the Caribbean but was raised until the age of 13 in New York. And from age 13 to my early 50s, I lived in Southern Louisiana and now in Southern California. Honestly, I’m not sure which change was the more of a culture shock. I went from living on an island of 300 people to one of the biggest cities in the world, followed by a state strongly entrenched in the Bible belt and now to one of the largest states in the country. Each one has their own culture and characteristics that make them wonderful.
I love my island of Utila for so many reasons. The biggest one is that my family is there; my heritage is there. It’s home in a way that my other homes can’t ever be. But since I moved to the US when I was 5, I lost a lot of that culture along the way. The islanders say that I’m a city girl and am unfamiliar with the island ways. When I moved to New York, I had a strong island accent that I eventually dropped as I got older and took on a more New York accent but if you get me in the midst of my island family, the accent returns in full force. I’ve had friends ask me if I’m still speaking English!
My subsequent move to New Orleans opened me up to this strange new world where the name Hebert is pronounced “Abear” and Tchoupitoulas is a head scratcher. And then there’s the “yall”. I remember hearing people say this word over and over and couldn’t for the life of me figure out who they were talking about. I kept asking, “Who are you talking to?” The reply was always frustrated as they pointed to me and the group of friends I was in, “YALL, YALL. All of you right here.” Seriously?? You mean, you all or when I let my Brooklyn side out, you guys? Ohhhh. That’s who you mean! I made a vow right then and there, I’d never EVER use the word YALL! Yup, that lasted a few short months.
Fast forward to my life here is California and I hear myself saying “yall” to people only to get that same strange stare I used to give to my Louisiana friends. So funny how things come around.
But back to my visit recently. We went back to our old neighborhood and we weren’t at our house but about 20 minutes when our neighbors came out to talk. One brought a cup of coffee with him as he chatted about the family and all that we had missed since the last visit. The other neighbor came out to say hello, get a hug and let us know how much they miss us. It was Mardi Gras season so every house, store and person was decorated in bright green, purple and gold. There was an excitement in the air and king cake at every event, which I ate way way too much of. Everyone I met, whether I knew them or not, called me mam. Friends would ask me where do I stay now, meaning where do I live. In California, even after a year, I’ve only met one or two neighbors. People tend to stay to themselves where Southern neighbors are a mix of friendly and nosy.
The South has a slower pace, to be sure. People still go out on their front porches and gather and talk. Not as much as years ago, but there’s still that feeling of community that’s like no other place I’ve lived. We lived there during Katrina, during our first Saints Super Bowl win and there was a sense of unity that I’ve never really experienced anywhere else. Recently when the New Orleans Saints was cheated of their chance to go to their second Super Bowl, I mourned from afar with my Southern brothers and sisters. It was heartbreaking. I went to bed with tears in my eyes and woke up the same way. But, what did the New Orleanians do? Yes, they screamed from the rooftops about the unfair treatment, took to social media and blasted all involved but in the end they joined together and as a city, took to the streets to do what they do best. They partied. They rallied together and found a way to honor our boys in black and gold and all they had accomplished during the football season. To say they are resilient is an understatement.
The Uptown area of New Orleans, especially, is my absolute favorite place. Locally owned shops selling everything from clothes to accessories and shoes made out of cork (yes, cork!) to restaurants with some of the best food I’ve ever had. The museums and galleries, eclectic little hole-in-the-wall places, just make for a wonderful day exploring. Walking along the river, seeing the street performers, eating beignets until you’re covered in powdered sugar. The architecture and history alone is incredible.
On this last trip, it wouldn’t have been complete without hitting up my neighborhood snowball stand. This icy treat is like nothing else I’ve ever tried. Done right, the ice is soft and airy, the homemade syrups sweet and thick and of course, covered in an avalanche of sweetened condensed milk. Gulf shrimp straight off the boat, battered and fried. Rich gumbo served on top of a bed of potato salad. Simple food done right. There’s nothing quite like it.
For the most part, people from Louisiana tend to never leave and for good reason. New Orleans born natives have a love and passion for their city like no other. They set down roots for a lifetime. There are parades during funerals and second line dances at the end of every wedding or party. It’s such a diverse and wonderful culture. Truth be told, it took years for me to embrace it but once I fell in love with the city, it became my home.
One of my all time favorite things about Louisiana is how you can walk into a store or restaurant for the first time and be greeted with a term of endearment like “Good morning, sweetie! How can I help you?”
Somehow, Louisiana makes everyone feel like you’re home. It’s a part of that Southern charm that reminds me of how fortunate I was to live there for so many years.
