Introduction to New Orleans

New Orleans should come with a warning label.

No, no, not about hurricanes. Forget that. That's like solely identifying San Francisco and Los Angeles with earthquakes. No, this is about the city itself. See, there's this group of residents whom locals call the "never lefts." They are the people who came to New Orleans as tourists: came for Mardi Gras, came for Jazz Fest, or just came. And the city worked its magic on them. They listened to street musicians around Jackson Square. They danced to brass bands in clubs at night. They gazed at lush tropical courtyards hidden behind unassuming building fronts. They strolled down streets time seemed to have forgotten. They kissed beneath flickering gas lamps. They ate incredible meals and topped them off with beignets at 3am at the Café du Monde while watching the passing human parade. They found themselves perusing newspaper ads for houses and apartments, because as their trip's scheduled end date came and went, they were still in New Orleans. They came for Mardi Gras, came for Jazz Fest, just came -- and never left.

New Orleans does that to people.

It's a remarkable thing, but even with the thick layer of catastrophic damage around it, the core of New Orleans remains as magical and seductive as ever. It should be cliché to use those words, but when even news anchors and relief workers who have never been to the city before find themselves falling into local ways and going to efforts to return again and again, you know there is something powerful about the place. The visual delights of the remarkable French Quarter and Garden District remain. Once again music flows from random doorways or is played right in the street. Jazz, Cajun, blues, whatever -- you'll find yourself moving to a rhythm and wondering if the streets really are dancing along with you. There are delicious smells in the moist, honeyed air, which seems to carry a whiff of the Caribbean while caressing your skin, almost as if it were alive.

And then there's the food. Don't get us started on the food.

But New Orleans is also a city experiencing great difficulties, belying the outsider nickname "the Big Easy." Residents never call it that, for it's never been easy, and right now, it's not all that big, either. For months after the flood -- while Katrina may have been the catalyst for it, the damage to the area was almost entirely because of the levee breaches -- until intrepid residents from even the hardest-hit neighborhoods returned, New Orleans was shrunk to its 1784 boundaries. It remains a mass of contradictions, at once so much better than it was in the days immediately following August 29, 2005, and in other ways completely stagnant. It's sensual and joyous, decadent but not exploitative. Indulgences are many but for the right reason: They are fun. This is a city where every business entirely closes for Mardi Gras; after all, carnival roughly means "farewell to flesh." No one's going to say goodbye to such things (as if they ever really do) without a big party. And yet at the same time, the mechanisms that supported all that fun -- a combination of carelessness and centuries-old traditionalism -- also helped institutionalize some of the worst poverty and racial disparities in the country. Katrina's floodwaters exposed those problems, but they weren't washed away. As some residents joyfully return, so many others remain stuck in exile, and still others are exiting in frustration. And if they come back, will anything be better?

Those who love it are determined to make it so. But the future, both immediate and distant, remains shaky. Lack of clear direction from any level of authority means too much of the city remains in stasis. As we write this, entire neighborhoods are still dilapidated. But, and we will stress this point over and over, this is not the case with tourist areas. The historic districts are as lively and bustling as ever, and with a few exceptions, all the major institutions have reopened (a notable omission would be the St. Charles streetcar line, which, as we write this, required a total overhaul and won't be running again in its entirety until 2008). As contradictory as it sounds, you have to go out of your way to see that something enormous happened here. True, there is still a shortage of workers in every area, particularly hotels and restaurants. Expect slower service even as these problems continue. But at the same time, expect to be greeted with pleasure and gratitude; locals are eager for tourist business and it shows in their level of hospitality. And in a city full of storytellers, they have such tales to share with you these days. Meanwhile, restaurants are doing some of their best work in a long time, and there are an inspiring number of new ones on the scene, while many hotels have taken advantage of insurance settlements to get needed face-lifts. Prices are doing some weird rising and falling; many restaurant bills have increased while hotels have come down, but both are offering all sorts of bargains in the slower winter and summer seasons to entice business. Crime is returning, which is discouraging, but again it remains largely confined to the areas where visitors do not tend to go. Clubs are hopping again, perhaps not yet back to a nightly schedule, as so many musicians lost homes and instruments and remain unable or unwilling to return to the city. But the ones who have come back are deeply dedicated and fill in the gaps with new artistic determination, while the crowds that come to hear them are equally recommitted to this vital part of their culture. And the bars? Why, some of them never closed to begin with. It is, in short, a good time to go to New Orleans.

And what can you do when you get there? Same as always. We tell people that all we do when we visit is eat, drink, listen to music, dance, and walk. That's it. In New Orleans you can do just that for days without getting bored. That's the kind of town it is. In fact, that may be the simplest way to sum up its appeal -- which is not an easy task. For years, countless authors have tried to explain its gestalt. You could fill entire bookcases with New Orleans-based or -inspired literature, some written by natives, even more by authors who came for a visit and never left. But that appeal isn't for everyone. New Orleans, it must be apparent by now, is a city of flaws. And while now is the time to correct some of those, a certain amount are in the very nature of the place. It would be wrong if in renovation it was turned into something shiny and clean. That wouldn't be the natural order of things; thanks to the climate, the city began to decay the moment it was built. Buildings may be worn and shabby, but every brick has a history. You want tidy and sterile? Go elsewhere. You want history and character? Come here.

The best way to get inside New Orleans is to plunge right in. Don't just go for the obvious. Sure, we've met people who never left Bourbon Street and had a terrific time, but the city has so much more to offer. We've also met people who went for recognizable names and quick and easy decisions and then were disappointed that their experiences were no more than adequate.

Look over the advice that follows, here and in the hotel and dining sections, and you should be able to sidestep the inevitable tourist traps. We want you to go home having passed a real good time, as the locals say. If you want to get your hands dirty and help with some of the ongoing work, thank you. But if all your dirt comes from the powdered sugar on a beignet, then you did your trip right, too. You came. That matters a lot. Maybe you will even come back again.

That is, assuming you do go home. Remember: We warned you, so don't blame us if you come to New Orleans and one day discover that you never left.