“Tell ’em Holly Tamale sent ya.”
I walked and walked around New Orleans today. It was amazing how much ground I covered considering I sat in a conference for eight hours. (It was actually more like seven, because at one point I just couldn’t absorb any more and went back to my room for a nap.)
The Gulf of Mexico Climate Community of Practice is this group of people whose business it is to talk to people about climate change (and other stuff, but the meeting is about the climate change stuff). The purpose of the group is to share good ideas about how to do that most effectively. It’s been a really good meeting and a lot of really important information has been shared. We even heard from a communication professional who basically told us that it was a media campaign that intentionally changed the conversation from “global warming” to “climate change” BECAUSE the public would not be so alarmed by the term “climate change” and so would not pay so much attention to it. Seems to be borne out by Google analytics info. Scary.
Anyway, after the meeting, it’s time to go out and prowl New Orleans. I realized that it’s ironic that the initials of this town are NO because nobody ever says “NO” here – everything is ok!
I walked with new friends all around the French Quarter and along the river. We looked at the “flood gates.” I put that in quotation marks because these gates seem a bit ridiculous. I just don’t see how that would really work. Wouldn’t the water just flow to where it could get around the gates? I mean, the whole region isn’t walled in…
Saw some really cool tall ships that had come up the river.
We walked along looking for a place to hear music and/or eat. As we turned down a street a block or so past Esplanade, we smelled something wonderful being cooked outside. We passed a parking lot where a bunch of people were hanging out. We asked a young woman sweeping at the entrance if it was a private party. She answered with a drawl that was either extremely charmingly Southern or really high. “It is, but y’all look okay, so you can come in.” It was a neighborhood get-together, we said no thank you anyway and asked it she would recommend a good place to eat.
“Oh, you need to go to f*****g Armando’s. Just go down a block, turn left, go into the Apple Barrel and it’s upstairs. Tell ’em Holly Tamale sent you.”
Too good to be made up.
Of course we went. Good music in the Apple Barrel downstairs. Great food, lousy service upstairs at f*****g Armando’s.