I feel so, so much better today, so I was eager to get out on the bike for a play ride after cleaning the house and watching the Saints win. Again. Though this time it seemed unnecessarily close–c’mon, guys, we were playing the Rams! Anyway, I rode down to Louis Armstrong Park to catch some of the Congo Square Rhythms Festival, where I snapped this picture of three Mardi Gras Indian tribes doing their thing. See all those arms up, cameras pointing in toward the Indians? Yeah, my arm’s doing the same thing. I’ve seen the Indians at many events in this city, and they are always surrounded by crowds, many snapping endless photographs, just like I was today. Sometimes I wonder how cameras have changed our ability to actually experience experiences; are we trying to freeze them for later consumption, assuming any of these pictures are ever looked at all? Picture taking at this event was definitely mediated by race–all the arms raised over the crowd were white; most of the folks singing along were Black. We are all there, watching the same performance, but we are all having a wide range of different experiences. This is a picture of the Mardi Gras Indians, but it is also a picture of people taking pictures, and that woman, the one in the sunglasses. I wonder what she was looking at…

The worst part of being sick is not feeling well enough to ride your bike. Well, that’s the worst thing for me. I’ve been a bit under the weather for awhile now, but this weekend I have really just been feeling rotten. I’ll ride a bike with a cold, but it’s frustrating to not be able to breathe right, and to have each breath remind you that your throat hurts. So I stayed off the bike yesterday and just sat in bed, waiting to feel better. Things looked a little bit up today, and I was happy to be able to ride downtown, where I was a volunteer usher at the Southern Repertory Theater’s production of I Am My Own Wife. This is New Orleans, so the theater’s actually inside a mall rather than standing alone. The traffic was heavy this Saturday night, and parking sparse. I simply do not understand how people drive when they could easily ride a bike. Whatever. I snapped this photo of the stage right before the play started. I got a seat right in front after a few seats were double booked and they had to pull out chairs on the floor for us stragglers. I looked around at the crowd, one unlike any I’m normally around, and settled in for a show. I pocketed eight bucks in tips serving wine at intermission and after the play took that cash and rode around the Quarter and the Marigny where many Fringe Festival events were taking place. That’s a different kind of theater, one for which you don’t need to dress up and shill cheap wine to afford a seat. I’m glad there are lots and lots of choices for performance in this town. I’m still not feeling so hot, so rather than spend my pin money on a drink, I stopped at the 24 hour drug store on St. Charles for dishwashing soap and a bag of chips, which I happily scarfed down at home.

I rode my bike up to campus today for a couple of meetings, and I’m glad I did, so I could ride back home along Freret. At D.’s suggestion, I stopped here, at Freret St. Po Boys and Donuts and picked up not one, but two glazed donuts. The man behind the counter declared it good weather for a glazed donut, and I had to agree with him. They were so soft. And chewy. I realized I haven’t had a good donut in, well, years. I hate that Krispy Kreme business, so I’m pretty much out of luck at my local grocery stores and gas stations. I’m glad to have found this place. I will be back. Tomorrow. A lot of new things are sprouting up on Freret Street these days. Last night I rode my bike to a bar that I’d watched going up for months and months. I didn’t love it–fancy pants isn’t quite my speed–but I’m glad it’s there. And there’s the new organic snoball stand and the comic book shop and the boxing gym (well, that’s been there for awhile) and the monthly market. I would like to request a repaving, especially since a buckled part of the road almost knocked me off Rhoda last night, but otherwise, three cheers for the revitalized Freret Street! I had to run back to campus to meet up with J. for advice on organizing events–the Bicycle Film Festival is coming to town!–but I rode back down St. Charles. Because it takes a lot out of a bike ride when you’re constantly swerving around potholes and bracing over bumps. I know there’s no way we’ll ever have good roads in this town, but on a day like today, with otherwise lovely rides–including a night ride down to the Treme–I really, really wish we had more smooth asphalt.

I rode home from work today, against the wind, even though I rode to work against the wind…where’s the payoff? Well, it’s in a sunny and warm mid-November day. Seriously. I’m still riding about in a t-shirt, skirt, and strappy sandals. I rode down Peniston because the smooth asphalt was simply too enticing. I love new asphalt partly because I can hear the hum of my chain with my regular rattles quieted. I stopped to take a picture of this house near Saratoga. It is wild. It is highly decorated, from the tree wearing a sign proclaiming its lineage to the orange and white metal work and the mounted Saints helmet in the yard. This house dresses up for holidays, but every day is a holiday for this place. I wonder what the neighbors think of this house. The block has some houses that are still a mess; this neighborhood has its share of blight. But it also has new construction that looks like it might turn up its nose at a place like this. I wonder how they all get along. I know I always stop when I ride past here, though. Thank you, people-how-live-here, for brightening up many a bicycle ride.

I ride very similar routes around this town, every single day. Up and down St. Charles, down Simon Bolivar, up Baronne, up and down St. Claude. One thing I love about biking, though, is that there’s always something new to see, to notice, as long as you pay attention. I rode down Delachaise on my way home from work this afternoon. They’ve repaved this and a few other streets in Central City, and even though it was a little cool today, the sun was warm as I wheeeed down the smooth asphalt. I stopped before South Liberty to take a picture of this house, seemingly abandoned since I’m not sure when. I remembered blogging about this house almost exactly a year ago. The house looks almost exactly the same. The piles of trash in front of the neighboring lot is gone, and the cat’s claw has made greater inroads on the house next door. The empty lot is still overgrown, a little taller than this time last year. I expected, when posting this picture, that things might be different from last year. But it looks almost exactly the same, except for the clouds in tonight’s sky. I will certainly still be biking down this street next year; we’ll see if anything changes by then, for reasons other than natural decay.

I was prepared for a significant storm today, but that’s not quite what happened. Let me amend–I thought about being prepared for a significant storm, but what that ended up meaning was that I wore flip flops on my ride to work just in case I got caught in a downpour on my ride home. I’ve ruined enough leather shoes in this town already. The rain didn’t start until quite late, so I stopped at the grocery store for some red lentils for soup. I took this picture of pigeons snacking in the street near where I’d locked up my bike. I was at Whole Foods, so of course the pigeons were pecking away at what looked like some kind of whole grain raisin breadstick or something. The pigeons didn’t appear to have a hurricane plan, but maybe that’s because they were seemingly fearless. I mean, I walked right up to them, and they barely even flinched. Maybe that bread was just that good. I remember seeing a squirrel eating an eggroll at my apartment in Hartford once. And then there was E.’s pigeon-eating-chicken-bones sighting. Very, very disturbing, somehow. These birds seem to have found a pretty good snack. I spun myself home with my groceries and spent the afternoon napping, listening to the wind. Not bad.

I spent my day nursing my somewhat sickly self at home and finishing up a ridiculous amount of grading. By the time the Saints had won and the sun was down, I needed to get out of the house, just for a little bit. I took Rhoda and went out for pizza and finished up the few straggling midterms. I rode around for a little while afterwards, that kind of ride where you aren’t headed anywhere or thinking about anything, just pushing the pedals and making a breeze. Hurricane Ida is in the Gulf, and though it doesn’t look like it will come all that close to New Orleans, it still rightly makes everybody a little nervous. I stopped and took a picture of this house on the corner of Annunciation and Harmony. The windows are already all neatly boarded up, with boards numbered for each window. These folks are prepared. I’m expecting a windy day tomorrow and Tuesday, and surely rain, but I’m grateful this first hurricane to threaten the east coast this season looks like it will spare most of us. I wish I could say the same for Nicaragua and El Salvador. I don’t blame these people for boarding up just in case, though. This place doesn’t exactly have a good track record for surviving the glancing blow, but I think we’re going to be ok. But I don’t know yet if I’m going to be biking through the winds.

I don’t feel too hot today–I’ve got that icky feeling in the back of my throat that says something’s off. But it was such a beautiful day, and a beautiful day for a bike ride, so I sucked it up and went downtown to enjoy the sunshine and dry air and crowds at the New Orleans Bookfair and the Bywater Mirliton Festival. (I was running late–no time to stop at the Scandinavian Festival!) I snapped this picture of folks perusing one of the many tables of radical “anarchist” lit for sale. I love the guy selling the books, that cigarette lolling out of his mouth, looking too cool to do business. There were a number of vendors like this, alongside authors selling their own comics, fiction, memoir, and coloring books. My very favorite bookseller was in town from Oakland, CA; I’m always happy to see them. I love this bookfair. It is always a good collection of books and authors you just don’t see at the Borders on St. Charles. I spun over to the Mirliton fest afterward to listen to music, watch people, and table for the Metro Bicycle Coalition, a group that advocates for policies friendly to bikes and bike safety. This was my first time working with MBC, and I left excited for their upcoming Bike Bash and happy to have gotten to swoon about riding bicycles in the city with a bunch of people I don’t know. I rode home through throngs of LSU fans, their cheers pouring out of doorways, though they would ultimately be disappointed. I love how many ways there were today for people to hang out together in the sunshine in November.

Rhoda’s rear cog was a little loose and I don’t have the proper flat wrench for repair, so I took her to the bike shoppe for a little TLC this afternoon. Ten bucks later and the girl was riding like a dream, so I was happy to pedal her down to the Marigny tonight for a drink with a former student and then over to S.’s place for roasted beets, prosecco, and some TV with S. and R. On my ride down I noticed those swirling/flashing sky light things. Yep, it was Opening Night of the new $60 million auditorium at the World War II museum. The party was over by the time I was headed home, but I stopped at Magazine and the freeway to snap a picture of the red, white, and blue lights lighting up the museum behind me. The place looks amazing, and the new John Besh restaurant and fancy gift shop and new facades and parking facilities and la dee da is all beautiful. I then rode through the light, avoiding this one pothole on the right. It used to be seriously, ringed with white spray paint to warn us. And then, about a year ago, the Pothole Killer filled the thing. And it’s been steadily sinking ever since. In another six months or so, it’ll be time to spray paint the thing again. We can build that new fantastical auditorium in what seemed like just a few months, but that hole is just going to keep sinking, over and over again. I’m guessing the city will just keep filling it.

I know, I’m like a broken record, but the weather is so flipping beautiful here this week. I rode around running errands this afternoon, in a skirt and tank top and sandals as my shoulders baked in the sun. In November. Man, I love living here! Those hot and humid summer months–which I also enjoy–are worth it for these pleasant fall days. Once the sun went down it was a little cooler, perfect for an evening ride. I headed down to the Bywater for coffee and some reading, and then rode out Chartres to Poland Ave. and back around to the Treme via the St. Claude bike lane. Lots of folks were sitting on porches or outside restaurants and cafes enjoying the weather and the moon. As I approached Press Street, the red railroad lights were flashing, so I slowed up to wait. This spot doesn’t have those arms that go down to keep you from crossing the tracks, but lights and noise seem to keep us from darting in front of the train. I took this picture of my bike in the bike lane, waiting with these cars, and the train moved slowly forward. Another biker rode up and in front of the rest of us, seemingly attempting to find a way through. No such luck–you just have to wait. And then the train stopped. And then it started going back the other way. And I remembered the time, late at night after going to a show, that  S. and I waited in my car as a train rolled back and forth for 45 minutes, never moving enough to let us through. Fortunately that didn’t happen tonight, and I rode over those tracks and back up St. Claude, feeling that joy of a ride with no destination.