After a quick car ride today to invest in another cell phone (thanks for nothing, thief), I hopped on Rhoda and headed over to Oretha Castle Haley to help set up for the Bicycle Film Festival at Zeitgeist. My local radio station had informed me that a festival of sorts was also being held on the street. I like a good mash-up, so I was hoping both crowds would be there together.Instead, the daytime crowd was apparently very thin to begin with, so meeting them on the tail end of their event made for some empty streets. OC Haley runs through Central City, a part of town that is still recovering from the floods, and also the kind of abandonment that has met myriad central cities all over the country and world. And then there’s the part where some folks just don’t think it’s safe. But OC Haley is looking to become a new main street, and it is already home to many great programs: Ashe Cultural Arts Center, Young Leadership Council, the Juvenile Justice Project of Louisiana, and several community gardens. There’s much afoot in this neighborhood, and that is really, really cool. Fortunately, folks did come out to see the Bicycle Film Fest in spite of the cold and the zillion other things going on this weekend. Volunteers parked and watched bikes while riders took in the screenings. The movies were fantastic and the venue couldn’t have been better. Thanks to all who came out, and seriously–OC Haley is a great bike route–smooth, fast, friendly. See you out there.

I spent a lovely Thanksgiving relaxing, first at home, and then with friends down in the Treme. It was a crisp day, but the sun was shining, making my bike ride on the Surly quite perfect. The streets were incredibly quiet today; I guess by the time I got myself on the road it was already dinnertime for everybody else. A year ago I hadn’t met a single one of the folks I broke bread with tonight. And looking at that room, full of incredibly smart, clever, and attractive folks who know how to cook and know how to dance, I felt really, really thankful. It’s good to have a gang, and the gang was (almost) all there tonight. I rode home, again on empty streets, and thought about how much can change in a year, grateful that this year, it was all for the better. I stopped on my ride home to take a picture of this white wicker couch on Baronne near Terpsichore. I see this white wicker couch with cardboard seats every time I ride up this street, and that’s often. Sometimes it’s moved closer to the corner, other times further down the block. I’ve never seen anyone sitting in it, but I know some people must. I hope they had a good Thanksgiving, and I hope they get some good weather for sitting out here this weekend. I got back on my bike, pedaled the rest of the way home, thankful for so, so many things, including that smooth asphalt on Louisiana. I am lucky, and I am grateful.

I rode home from work shivering in the slightly chilly weather (I need a cold weather haberdasher–I’m terrible at dressing myself once it drops below 70!) along Loyola through Central City. The asphalt is really, really nice in that neighborhood, but it doesn’t exactly look like a neighborhood that would have newly paved roads. It’s a delight for the cyclist, that’s for sure. I stopped near Marengo to take a picture through the locked fence of the New Orleans Recreation Department (NORD) Tennis Center that is being rehabbed, I think, to offer an Uptown tennis facility to Uptown New Orleans. It feels oddly out of place, this tennis center. I think I have an idea that tennis is for rich people, and this isn’t a rich people’s neighborhood. Now, of course all kinds of people play tennis. But I have these early associations of tennis with the kids who lived in the Highlands and went to the Country Club to play tennis and swim in a private pool. I hated those kids. But heck, maybe it’s time to get over it. Everybody should get to play tennis. I bet it’s fun. Of course, this place isn’t open yet, so this is all idle chatter. But there are a lot of other activities sponsored by NORD, from football and swimming lessons to theater and dance. I wouldn’t have thought to check that resource except that I rode my bike past here and wondered what was behind the gate. Another win for the bicycle!

I had a lovely day today, back at work, feeling so, so much better. After biking to and from work in the sunshine, the clouds were rolling in and the air was getting thick. It was spitting just a tiny bit when I hopped on the bike to meet friends for dinner, and by the time I was tucked in to the booth, the sky had opened up and poured. D. even reported hail! By the time we were done with dinner and drinks the rain had stopped and it was just perfect for a ride down to the Treme to hang with J., R., and friends. On my ride home I stopped to take this picture of a basketball backboard on a power pole. I wish the hoop was still there. When I ride this street during daylight hours, there are always a bunch of kids hanging out on porches or tossing footballs in the street. The hoop would surely fit in here. But that would mean playing in the street, which seems to have fallen off the kid-approved list. Which is too bad, because there’s space there, right outside those doors, to play in the neighborhood with the other kids in the neighborhood. But the streets belong to cars, I guess. And sometimes to bikes. Not tonight, though. As I crossed Julia, headed toward Central City, a private security guard slo-o-owly drove by. He stared at me intently through the window, as if he didn’t quite believe he was seeing me. I can’t really explain what the look felt like. I just know that I hardly ever, ever feel unsafe biking home, but for just a second tonight, I did.

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 rode my bike down to the Treme tonight to pick up some flyers for an event we’re organizing at work (you should come if you are in the New Orleans area! Next Monday! At Tulane!) and to see some friends. It was a most perfect night for a bike ride, and I needed to work out the kinks caused by a late afternoon coffee. Learn from my poor choices: if she offers you a large coffee for just ten cents more on a Tuesday afternoon, remember: there will be other costs. I took Dauphine on my ride back Uptown and stopped to snap a picture of this old stove, abandoned near St. Philip. Just up the block was a sofa piled with a couple of huge rugs. I’m not sure if someone is moving out, someone was thrown out, or if someone is just upgrading. But this stove is seriously old. I wonder how many meals it has cooked, how it ended up out here, where it will go. This is a town that has seen a whole lot of appliance turnover. Does anyone know where they go? I got back on my bike and continued my ride home, handing out plenty of “How you doin’?s” to they many people enjoying the cooler weather on their porches along Baronne. Yes, this weather suits me and my bike just fine.

I was tired after a long day, but I couldn’t let this first cool(ish) evening go without getting out for a ride on the Surly. It was positively lovely out there. I headed over to Canal and rode over and along Bayou St. John, where lots of folks were out enjoying the cooler and drier air. I stopped and took this photo of the former City Hall annex building on Canal and Tonti. I pass this building regularly, but when I first saw it, it never occurred to me that it could be a city building. I mean, it’s boarded up and covered with graffiti, with that sign on the front that marks it as a hazard for firefighters. This summer a body was found inside. That’s scary stuff. This city is filled with abandoned buildings , and thousands of people are living in terrifically dangerous conditions inside these many condemned properties. The number of homeless here compared to the services available is simply scandalous. And this building, owned by the city, sits empty, except nothing’s ever really empty here.

I woke up a little sore from last night’s dance party, so I knew it would be a lazy biking day. After a ride down to the Lower Garden District for lunch with N. and a stop at the office supply store for a new set of markers, I rode out Martin Luther King, continuing in my efforts to map the city by bike. I ended up in the Central City/B.W. Cooper neighborhood. I took this picture of two houses from the corner of Second and S. Rocheblave. This is what uneven redevelopment looks like in so much of the city. The lot on the corner is empty except for the studs of the structure that used to be here. The house to the left is decaying and cat’s claw is taking over. The back addition is sinking in; it looks kind of like melted frosting. And then out there in the middle of the block is a new house, raised high on stilts, with stickers still on the windows. This one scene offered a snapshot of the city as a whole. Living here means living with constant reminders of the levee breaches and also the general poverty of the region that leads to this urban blight. You learn to tune it out in some ways, but it takes a psychological toll, living here. I wish there were the mental health services available that this city needs.

My rides today took me to work for a faculty meeting and then down to the Treme for my standing Thursday night date with friends. I rode slowly up Baronne on my way home, needing some extra time, letting the bike do that thing it does so well–concentrate my attention outside of myself. Sometimes that’s just what I need, that shift in focus. It was almost 1:00 in the morning, so the city was quiet and the streets dark (except for a couple blocks in the French Quarter, where drunken tourists stumbled around, inexplicably clad in St. Patrick’s Day gear). I love riding around the city at night, especially when it’s still humid, but just a little bit cool. I stopped to snap this picture of refrigerated trucks lined up at Brown’s Dairy at Baronne and Erato. Most of Central City and the Lower Garden District is asleep on a weeknight at this time, but not Brown’s. The trucks are humming and there’s action going on in the dairy across the street. I wave at the security guards every time I ride by–and I go this way a lot–but I don’t think they notice. But I notice them. They don’t know it, but they and these noisy trucks keep watch over me almost every night.