[Terra Nola documents the long-distance love affair between a New Yorker and New Orleans.]

I guess it was bound to happen. Inevitably, we were doomed from the start. Since I was given the honor more than a year ago of writing for bloggingneworleans, I've shared with you my love for the city. I've tried many times in many ways to tell you just what it is about this city that made me fall in love with her, and that which captivates me still.

Several thousands of words later I still can't quite put my finger on what it is that drew me to her, kept me near her--even in her darkest hour--and what, even now, keeps me somehow inextricably bound to her.

I love New Orleans, Nola, the Crescent City, this big easy, more than I've ever loved a place. I didn't even know it was possible to love a place until I met her. Now that the end of our blog is near, our "retirement," I have time once again to pause and think of the ways I love her, to share with you one last time what it is that makes your city so special to me.

Ours was a love that conquered distance if not time, one that weathered lack of money and the trappings of a normal affair. It was a love borne of a need deep within my soul that was filled only by this city full of the dying, the decaying and the dead. They walked among us as cartoons before in the form of vampires and goblins slinking behind a voodoo priestess' grave. Now they walk among us as our brothers and sisters, souls trapped in a past they did not create, drowning in it if they didn't when the flood hit.

These dead do not whisper quietly to us from their lace-iron balconies. No, they walk among us to remind us of what we lost, what we can never have again except in our dreams. Mine was such a dream, and a place I go back to each time I read yet another account of some actrocity burdening the city, burying her right along with our hope.

Just let her go, many say. But I can't. So let me tell you why, all the reasons why, why, why.

I love it that it's so hot down there I never want to visit again. Until I'm in the airport headed home.

I love it that every person I'v ever met every time I've visited has been nothing but sweet as pie to me. No one knows how to treat you right better than a Nola-ite.

I love it that the first time I went down there I felt like I was in another country. I'd wanted to escape, and I did.

I love it that the pinnacle of some people's day is to find a nice shaded balcony to sit on a sip a drink all night long. Crushed ice, a sprig of mint, perhaps a little sazarec. You know what I'm saying.

I love it that there's a story for every spot, a ghost in every room. Whether or not any of it's true you can feel the time passing in such places, their history soaking into you like the cool breeze wafting over you in a courtyard. It is real, if only in New Orleans.

I love it that there's such a fight over whether to bother with rebuilding the city. Makes the fight all the more worth it.

I love the iced coffee and everything fried--it may just be the same old thing but for some reason it just tastes better when you're eating it in New Orleans, especially if you're doing so with a view of the river.

I love those stupid bead stores run by people who don't speak English and are convinced you're going to steal something or that you're too drunk to steal anything.

I love it that life begins after dark. And it's quite a life.

I love it that when I leave all I ever want to do is go back. And I will be back. I will be back.

I love it that I can sit in the dark in the back of Napoleon House brooding about god knows what for as long as i want without someone hassling me. I could sit there forever contemplating, conniving or convincing myself.

I love it that jazz was born here, and that no matter where you go and no matter what time of day, you can hear a little music floating through the air. It's magic. No, really--it is.

It's a magical place, like being in a snowglobe with sparkles--or beads--instead of snow. It's my imagination come alive, my internal monologue sung back to me, the friend I never knew I had or needed, the one thing I can't live without.

Is New Orleans a thing? It's a place, for now. It's a state of mind. It's not necessarily where I'm form, but it's where I belong. And I will be back. I will be back.

Until that time you can find me on the internet. I'll be starting my own blog--and I will be writing about New Orleans. I can't not do it. I can also be found on AOL's ParentDish and That's Fit sites. Who knows where I'll turn up next, but you can rest assured that I'll be found wearing glitter when I do.

Thank you, for sharing in my love for this city. I hope we can save it.

[Terra Nola documents the long-distance love affair between a New Yorker and New Orleans.]

Well, if I hadn't read it with my own eyes I would not have believed it (not that we should believe everything we read). Looks like there is to be a second Camellia Grill, this one in Destin, Florida, beloved by teenagers on spring break everywhere.

As I said to Kelly Leahy, co-blogger here at bloggingneworleans, there can be only one. Even if the reopened version in Nola is doing well enough, the new owner is messing with some pretty serious karma to try and duplicate his success outside of the Crescent City. It was a miracle the Camellia Grill reopened at all given the devastation and destruction left in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Why tempt fate?

But, that said, if you're going to tempt fate, you might as well do it in the pan handle. If a greasy spoon operation is going to make it anywhere, it can make it in Destin. Not that Destin is lacking in diners--to the contrary, they're everywhere.

[Terra Nola documents the long-distance love affair between a New Yorker and New Orleans.]

Try as we may, most of us will never know exactly what it felt like those first few hours, days and weeks after the levees were breached. We may understand the impact of that situation, and we may empathize with those who suffered through it, but having not been there most of us simply cannot do anything but imagine what it must have been like to go through such an ordeal.

This past August, as it is with most summers here in NYC, we experienced Mother Nature's bizarre antics with the weather. This time the heat and the insane amount of rain we received at least contributed to a steam pipe explosion in midtown Manhattan. Ok, you say, so how could something limited to a two or three block radius that didn't even affect people's homes (just their places of employment, mostly) be compared to the aftermath of Katrina?

Well, it can't--at least not on the same scale. But my husband worked in a building literally right in front of where the explosion occurred. As a result of the explosion, the checks for asbestos and other testing to determine the cause, my husband wasn't able to get into his office for a whole business week.

[Terra Nola documents the long-distance love affair between a New Yorker and New Orleans.]

People often ask me why I love New Orleans so much. They ask that a lot more now than they did before Katrina, as you might imagine, but it's a question I never tire of answering. And it's a question to which there are many, many answers.

One of the myriad reasons I love New Orleans is for the coffee. I've probably mentioned this in countless blogs, but there's just something--sumthin'--about the way coffee in New Orleans tastes that is better than anywhere else I've sipped it. New York City offers a pretty good variety of coffees, and many of them are downright tasty, but they don't have that special something that Nola coffee offers.

For years now I've figured that special something was really just in my mind. I thought I just loved Nola coffee for the simple reason that I was in Nola when I was drinking it. That would be special in and of itself. But that's not it.

Perhaps New Orleans should be referred to as a city of the undead rather than housing cities of the dead (the cemeteries). I was trying to dredge up old articles from the New York Times responding to the horrors of New Orleans when I came across this article. The writer was commenting on President Bush's speech from three months after the storm.

Bush had said, at the time, the city would not be forgotten. That he--and the government--was paying attention. The author of the piece pleaded with those officials to do something or the city would die. And maybe it has.

It's been a long, slow death for New Orleans. It's been the kind of death staged melodramatically on the silver screen. Even if one counts up all the money and hard work floating around it hasn't amounted to much. Tourism is still down. The people who made up the city, who gave it its life blood, are gone or going, in the process of draining the city of its life. They ooze out of it like blood through an open wound.

New Orleans has been forgotten. New Orleans is dying. And it's going to take far more than another President to patch up her wounds. What strikes me most about the article is that it's basically saying the same thing we're all going on about now, two years later.

One would think in that amount of time--which is a long time, in many ways--something would have been accomplished other than increasing crime and flushing the economy down the toilet.

Although it seems like most of the rest of the country is more preoccupied with the scandals of our celebrity starlets, the New York Times has kept an ongoing, if quiet conversation with its readers about the devastation of New Orleans and the recovery efforts since the hurricane.

In honor of Hurricane Katrina's two year anniversary the Times is offering anyone who's interested a look at New Orleans now by parish. The site, located here, is interactive, which makes the reporting seem more "of the moment."

Some parishes have audio components and others have video rather than just words, words, words on a page. I hate to say it but anything in print (including these blogs!) barely scratches the surface of what is STILL going on in New Orleans as her fate hangs in the balance.

If nothing else, maybe a few folks who see this interactive feature will realize once and for all just how big Nola is, and that it's more than just the French Quarter.

Since I don't live in Nola I'm clearly no judge as to the accuracy of the reporting in the Times piece. Take a look and let me know what you think.

The Hamptons, on New York's Long Island, are generally known for the lavish parties of the rich and famous. It's the place the best of the best go to unwind and enjoy. This time around, though, many of the elite were there for a cause.

Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, who seemed to have adopted New Orleans (and the plight of the city) right along with the rest of their blended family, held a benefit in the Hamptons (see bottom of news blurbs) this past weekend to raise money for victims of Hurricane Katrina. Now, say what you will about celebrity and these celebrities in particular, but at least the Jolie-Pitts are DOING something about the problem.

And, as we've mentioned, two years later, there is a problem. A big one with a capital "P."

The charity dinner served as a fundraiser for Brad Pitt's Make It Right project which aids in the rebuilding efforts of the Ninth Ward. As we know from recent news building is under way on five "green" homes for families still without shelter since the hurricanes.

The celebrity couple arrived via helicopter to the event, in order to avoid traffic. No word on whether that was an environmentally conscious move, but my guess is was less wasteful of fuel than sitting in traffic for umpteen hours trying to get to the Hamptons!

Thanks to Brad and Ange for raising money for a good cause. I'm assuming details will follow of how much was raised. Pockets in the tri-state area are deep so hopefully it was a lot--maybe enough to get everyone to stop referring to us as those 'da#ned Yankees!"

Picture of wax Brangelina, which is almost as good as the real thing (but can't raise money!) by luisvilla.

[Terra Nola documents the long-distance love affair between a New Yorker and New Orleans.]

There's an interesting piece in the New York Times this Sunday from an editor whose home town is New Orleans, and who very clearly remembers Hurricane Katrina and the aftermath of the flooding when the levees broke. But he's not writing to talk about what happened two years ago. Rather, he has something to say about today, and the future.

Quite bluntly, from his perspective New Orleans is not recovering from the hurricane. I think since Nola isn't the focus of the media any longer (although she will enjoy a brief spell of notoriety when all the memories of the nightmare that was the weeks after Katrina at the Superdome are dredged up) everyone outside of the states of Louisiana and Mississippi, and a few concerned individuals in Texas thinks things are plugging along hunky dory.

And while the good citizens of Nola do just that--plod along, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy, rebuilding their lives one piece of moldy flotsam at a time, the more I read the less I like what I'm reading. And the more dismal my outlook on the fate and future of New Orleans becomes.

From this editor's point of view we should take heed of how the city was before the hurricane--not in great shape as you might well know, although still better off than we are now--during the catastrophe and afterwards. The government, as we know, handled things poorly, from the locals to the feds.

None of that is news to anyone except those who choose to remain ignorant enough to believe the hurricane caused the flooding (rather than the breaching of the levees). What this man is saying, more to the point, is that we should consider the outcome of Katrina's wake as a cautionary tale if we don't already. Why? Because it could happen to us, any of us.

And, of course, more than likely it will happen again. My guess is it's going to happen to the Gulf Coast again. Lightning does, in fact, strike twice, against popular belief.

This man provides a running list of things he can see from his office. He refers to the area where folks are living--if you can call it that--as a "wasteland." He refers to local neighborhoods as "lawless." He uses words like "empty" and "abandoned" to describe what message boards on travel websites would have you believe is the opposite.

Trust me, I troll the message boards and the overall consensus is to come back to New Orleans to party. The folks on those message boards, while well-meaning, have totally missed the point. They're talking about a relatively small square-footage of the area--the French Quarter. They're talking about the Garden District and the area around Tulane.

They're talking about places that had it well off to begin with, and who emerged relatively unscathed from the madness.

Part of me is beginning to finally understand why some thought it a bad idea, or at least in poor taste, to carry on with Mardi Gras and even Jazz Fest so soon after the tragedy. Two messages were sent out by all that hoopla:

1. We shall overcome. It's a great sentiment and clearly defines all that is good in the citizens of the city. It's that unnameable thing that people love about the Crescent City.

2. Things are--or are going to be a-ok.

See, when folks see parties and liveliness and happy faces they think everything is great. They see the French Quarter and they think the city is back to its old tricks. They think, wow, it's not as bad down there as I thought it was.

Well, it is. I mean, I read the blogs of my colleagues, who are doing their darnedest to present both sides of the coin down in Nola--the good, the bad...and well, yes, if a coin can have a third side--the ugly. Yet, reading about the day to day I forget about what is really happening down there: NOTHING.

While some of us are able to get back up on our feet, most are not. A large portion of the population has left and will never return. Why should they want to? It's been made crystal clear they're not wanted back, and that nothing is there for them if they do.

Money that was promised is harder to find than a treasure at the end of a rainbow, and about as mythic. There are no jobs. There is nowhere to live. It's simply NOT safe.

I used to tell people, oh, hey--it's ok to go back. The crime is isolated, and not as bad as you think it is. Well, I was wrong. DEAD wrong. It IS bad down there--really, really, REALLY bad. And little is being done about it. We're about a step away from a group of vigilantes forming a gang and meting out justice of their own. And who could really say that they're wrong to do so?

The thought that the city is slowly being allowed to return to the swamp from whence it came is becoming more and more transfixed in my mind. It's right up there with what would happen if disaster struck of the same magnitude anywhere else in the nation.

Would we care as little? Would we brush it off as easily? Would we allow ourselves to be convinced, those of us on the outside, that things were just fine in that city because it would be the easy thing to do?

The answer is yes. Yep, we would. We'd turn a cold shoulder and a blind eye toward that city just as we have New Orleans. We'd get on with our daily what have you while the city languishes, just as New Orleans has and will until someone takes notice.

Sadly, I'm not here with answers. I think no one has the answers and that's why two years later New Orleans has taken two steps back rather than even an inch forward. And I'm sorry, but throwing a Mardi Gras doesn't count as progress in my book.

There are still way too many people struggling to eat and sleep in peace. Too many people afraid for their lives. Too many people who know rather than feel they've been totally abandoned.

Not to bring Brad Pitt back into this, but something he said in his interview really stuck with me. He used the word "dignity." He was referring to what he was trying to restore to the lucky families who'd get to move into one of his green houses when the projects are completed.

Dignity is the final thing that has been stripped of the good, God-fearing people of New Orleans. It's the one thing that we're born with that isn't supposed to be able to be taken away from us. And yet it has. Somehow, the government and anyone else you want to blame--because all you have to do is throw a rock around here and you'll hit someone who contributed to the nightmare--has managed to take even that from the people who had so little else to begin with.

Dignity is the first thing we have to strive to give back to the good people of New Orleans if there is any hope at all that the city can be saved. Without it, we're all doomed.

You know, it would seem that due to my recent posts I am interested in celebrities, but I'm actually not. They just happen to be undertaking some things related to New Orleans. Yesterday I wasn't sure if Beyonce was, indeed, Creole as she claims--and you all advised me this was true. So, props to the Queen B. She just got herself a new fan (uh, me).

This week, Brad Pitt returned to the Crescent City after his stint in Chicago to give us an illustrated example of putting a little elbow grease into something. According to the Perez Hilton website Brad is "spearheading" a new green housing development.

I don't know if this is true or not, either, but the picture looks pretty authentic. I am going to assume it's true and score one more for New Orleans. I think we've all had our differences of opinion on whether the added celebrity element is good or bad for New Orleans. If Brad Pitt is bringing anything housing- or green-related to Nola than I can only see that as a good sign.

Of course, I don't know on what ground the structure is being built or if the housing will be affordable or luxury like all the condos we've seen popping up. Let's hope they're affordable and not built on an old cemetery (although the Saints seem to be moving out from under that alleged curse).

According to the blurb Brad will spill the beans to Ann Curry on NBC this Thursday. Be sure to tune in!

Fabulous pic of Brad Pitt, who was not wearing this at the develoment site, by jawo808.

Ok, I might now totally be irritated with Beyonce. Before I was just sorta annoyed, but now I may be royally ticked. According to this, which I scooped up from my beloved Pop Sugar, the Queen B claims she is Creole.

At a recent promotional event B was asked what her favorite smell was (don't worry, it wasn't a question totally out of context as it was a perfume promotion). B replied it was her mom's cooking, which is actually sweet as pie. Beyonce claimed her mom makes really good gumbo, which may be the case. But then she had to go and say she was Creole.

Now, this may be true and it may not. If it is, more power to B. If not, then she now annoys me more than Fergie.

So, good citizens of New Orleans (and the Gulf Coast), please edify me as to the accuracy of Ms. Knowles' comment. Is she, or isn't she? I mean, she could be--no one is saying she's definitely not. It just smells a little of self-promotion, not "Creole" cooking.

Pic of possibly Creole Beyonce by Pex Cornel.

I was inspired by my colleague Amanda Anderson's recent post, which also reminded me of something fun. Amanda recently celebrated her ten year anniversary of living in New Orleans (god love her) and was going through the alphabet, reflecting on what each letter brought to mind about our beloved (and beleaguered) Crescent City.

She reminded me of a game I used to force my husband to play with me. This was before we had the baby and he became such a big help that I felt bad trying to engage him with it. It's a stupid game with essentially no rules and no winner, that I cleverly call "A to Z." Spectacular, no?

Basically the point of the game is to pick a topic and go through all the letters of the alphabet (the English one) and come up with, well, you know, things that describe said topic or fit into it. And naturally I've forced him to, on at least one occasion, go through the alphabet with regard to Nola.

We came up with gems like B for booze and beads and boobs. We amused ourselves with C for Cajun and Creole Cooking. And the Columns Hotel. And the broken Concrete I fell on when we were running down St. Charles (another C!). Z naturally went to Zydeco (and the Zydeco Cha Chas, another C!).

As Amanda seems to be slowly engaging in just that very thing, I was delighted to read her sections for 'A, B, and C.' Clearly I have a sister in this silly but fun way of organizing my experiences and thoughts on New Orleans.

[Every Thursday, Terra Nola documents the long-distance love affair between a New Yorker and New Orleans.]

Recently--as in yesterday--my mother-in-law sent me a little present as congratulations on getting a new job. It was a Williams-Sonoma cookbook entitled "Authentic Recipes Celebrating the Foods of the World: New Orleans."

I was immediately overjoyed by her sweet, thoughtful, and very personal gift. Then, as I started flipping through the pages full of beautiful photographs of the city and its culinary intricacies, I got a little sad. Ok, I'm lying--I got a lot sad.

I was sad because I won't be visiting any time soon. I was sadder because the photographs in the book were obviously pre-Katrina, when everyone was still having a grand old time eating and drinking and making merry. I was sadder still when I noted in the back of the book that it was published in 2005.

I hate 2005. Can I just say that? I mean, it was a crappy year for EVERYONE.

[Beat the Heat offers interesting and entertaining--and tasty!--ways to cool off in New Orleans this summer.]

Well, I think the article in the Crescent City Farmers Market weekly news bulletin says it all, but don't take my word for it. Check out the Farmers Market this week and sample one of local juicer Amanda's fruity concoctions. In fact, you'll have to--I'm stuck here in NYC. At least I have air conditioning.

This Tuesday I also have word that the Farmer's Market will offer FREE WATERMELON to folks who stop by. Now, if there is anything more refreshing that sums up summer than watermelon I haven't seen it. Or tasted it. Or basked in its cool refreshment.

The only thing left to do is get the free watermelon people with Amanda to make some sort of watermelon juice creation. Talk about tasty and refreshing. And sticky, but that's to be expected in these parts this time of year, no?

So get yourself on over to the Farmer's Market this Tuesday or Saturday. Yes, it may be hot--or perhaps raining--during your visit, but it will be well worth it when you enjoy Amanda's special papaya lime juice. You'll cool down AND help the local economy, as well as the environment, all at the same time.

Remember, the Tuesday market runs from 9:00AM (when it shouldn't be too hot and you could enjoy a nice cool juice for breakfast) until 1:00 PM (when you can enjoy one for lunch) at 200 Broadway, the Uptown parking lot. The Saturday market runs from early-bird 8:00AM to high noon at 700 Magazine Street.

Photo of lime juice with orange juice, another fabulous treat, by gigijin.

Can someone please try this juice and let me know how delicious it is? After all, I have to live vicariously through you.

[Terra Nola documents the long-distance love affair between a New Yorker and New Orleans.]

So I was sitting near a window in my local coffee bar the other day when this young woman walked by me. She was wearing a T-shirt that simply said "Ray Nagin for President." Now, mind you, I live in Brooklyn, in New York City, not in New Orleans (or in LA for that matter).

As she passed me by we exchanged knowing half-smiles through the glass. The absurdity of Nagin running for president was even more absurd than seeing that T-shirt outside of the French Quarter. The French Quarter, as we all know, is where tacky yet often witty T-shirts are born...and where they go to die.

You will recall the "Chocolate City" T-shirt of yesteryears that hit the scene mere moments after the phrase was uttered by Ray Nagin. Still others expanded on that idea by presenting Mr. Nagin as Willy Wonka and cast New Orleans as the Chocolate Factory. Ringing a bell at all for ya?

[Terra Nola documents the long-distance love affair between a New Yorker and New Orleans.]

Yesterday I was lookimg at some pictures of New Orleans and missing the city. As the heat and humidity settle in for their annual visit, people are starting to wonder if I am truly crazy after all for missing New Orleans and wanting to go down there.

The heat, they say, and the crime! Why don't you go someplace safe and cool? Like where? North Dakota? Not that I have anything against North Dakota, but you know what I am saying.

I am no fair weather friend to New Orleans. These days especially it is harder than ever to call myself a friend, to retain my love and longing for the city. Like many of her residents, I could easily abandon Nola and be totally justified in doing so. After all, if she can't keep her own, why should I work so hard for her to keep me?