“How did you fall in love with New Orleans? At once, madly.” – Andrei Codrescu, poet
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA— The moment we stepped out of Louis Armstrong Airport, we were greeted by a wave of heat, like the blast from an oven door swinging open. This was our introduction to New Orleans or NOLA, an impromptu trip born out of a casual conversation with friends over lobster rolls–not gumbo–at a pop-up in the thick of Saint Louis’ sweltering summer.
Some of our friends had visited NOLA before, and couldn’t stop raving about the electric nights on Bourbon Street, and the vibrant, culture-soaked streets of the French Quarter. After scrolling through endless photos and getting hooked on one Instagram reel too many, I convinced my husband that we had to make one last summer escape to the Big Easy before the fall term kicked in. New Orleans wasn’t just a destination—it felt like a must.
After all, to borrow from Mark Twain, you haven’t really seen America until you’ve been to New Orleans.
So much has been said about New Orleans, yet words never quite seem to capture its spirit. It’s a city where history seeps from every wrought-iron balcony, and where jazz isn’t just played—it pulses through the streets, effortlessly finding you wherever you are.
One morning, as my husband and I set off for an early stroll in search of breakfast, we stumbled upon a charming al fresco café. Tucked into a cozy corner surrounded by lush greenery, we sipped chicory coffee, and savored warm, freshly made beignets. The air was thick with the soulful sounds of jazz drifting from a nearby canopied stage, the perfect soundtrack to a city that feels like it’s always in motion, yet unhurried.
What strikes you about NOLA is the atmosphere. It’s as if time moves at its own pace here, blending the old-world charm of gas-lit alleyways with the spontaneity of street performers and second lines.
There’s a constant tug between the past and present, where history isn’t just remembered but lived. I felt it in the slow sway of the Spanish moss hanging from the oak trees, in the art that spills from every unexpected corner, and in the music that bubbles up through the cobblestones.
It was my first time in New Orleans, yet the city felt vaguely familiar, as if I had been here before. I quickly realized it was because New Orleans and the Philippines share so much in common. Both are true melting pots of cultures, hemmed and hewn by centuries of foreign influences and indigenous traditions, blending the old and the new in a way that feels seamless. In both places, the streets hum with life, where every corner tells a story, every scent evokes a memory, and every dish carries the weight of history.
Just like the Philippines, New Orleans is a tapestry woven from diverse threads. For New Orleans, it’s a combination of Spanish, French, African, and Creole influences, all coming together to create something entirely unique. You see this confluence of cultures in the architecture, with its colonial facades and intricate ironwork. You taste it in the food, where bold flavors of gumbo and jambalaya tell tales of migration, survival, and adaptation. And you feel it in the people, whose warmth and hospitality mirror that of Filipinos, always ready to flash a smile or tell a story.
There’s a shared resilience, too. Both places have endured hardship—typhoons and hurricanes, colonization and conflict—and yet, they thrive, refusing to lose their vibrant spirit.
The music, the festivals, the colorful celebrations of life despite adversity—all of it resonates deeply with the Filipino way of finding joy, even in the most difficult times.
In New Orleans, as in the Philippines, the past is never far away; it lives and breathes in the present, shaping not only the landscape but also the soul of the people who call it home.
On our way to explore Honey Island Swamp, a sprawling marshland on the outskirts of New Orleans, our driver began to recount the harrowing experience of Hurricane Katrina. Her voice carried the weight of the devastation, but also a quiet resilience as she described how, in the face of one of the greatest disasters ever to strike the city, something remarkable emerged—the better angels of human nature. Communities came together, neighbors helping neighbors, and strangers offering aid without hesitation. It was a story not just of loss and damage, but of solidarity and survival, and it resonated deeply with me.
Just as the Philippines holds tightly to the value of kapwa—the deep sense of interconnectedness, of shared identity and empathy—New Orleans showed that same spirit in the aftermath of Katrina. In Filipino culture, kapwa isn’t just about compassion; it’s about recognizing that we are all part of something larger, and that our well-being is tied to the well-being of those around us. The driver’s story of communities banding together to rebuild, despite the overwhelming odds, reflected this very principle.
In both New Orleans and the Philippines, hardship has always been met with the enduring bonds of human connection.
Anthony Bourdain once said that there is no place like New Orleans. While I understand what he meant, I have to disagree—because now, having experienced the city, I realize that New Orleans and the Philippines are kindred places. They may be separated by oceans, but the spirit that defines them feels remarkably similar.
Both are vibrant, soulful lands where cultures collide and blend, creating something greater than the sum of their parts. In New Orleans, you feel it in the jazz that pours into the streets and the Creole cuisine that tells stories of generations. In the Philippines, it’s in the festivals that light up entire towns, in the halo-halo that brings together a mishmash of flavors, and in the warmth of bayanihan—the tradition of coming together to help one another. These are places where people move to the rhythms of resilience, joy, and community.
In both New Orleans and the Philippines, there’s a sense of deep-rooted history, of places shaped by colonization, natural disasters, and struggle—but never broken by them.
Instead, they’ve turned hardship into a source of inspiration to be stronger and more beautiful. It’s in the way the people of New Orleans refuse to let hurricanes define them, just as Filipinos rebuild after every typhoon with an unshakable sense of hope. There’s an almost palpable connection to the past, but it’s the love of life that truly binds these places together.
___________________________________
Author’s email: [email protected]
