This past summer I completely overlooked writing about one of my favorite cities, New Orleans. It feels fitting to circle back and share that chapter, because it marked the first step in my journey toward moving to France. For a month and half, it was just my dog and me falling for New Orleans. We settled into a small, colorful shotgun house not far from where my daughter lives. It was a temporary home filled with charm, humidity and a sense of rediscovery.
The Journey Down to New Orleans
I had planned for the drive to take four days, but it turned out to be only two. We left at 8 a.m. the car was packed with essentials and quiet anticipation and excitement. The drive through the Adirondacks was breathtaking, the morning mist rising slowly from the trees revealing winding highways that felt both familiar and new. Passing through each state, I was reminded of how beautiful and vast the U.S. really is.
From the skyscrapers of New York City to the endless stream of trucks and sprawling warehouses of Pennsylvania. Then, Virginia’s rolling farmlands appeared outlined by white fences and large homes with broad front porches that seemed untouched by time. It felt like looking into a window from a century ago, calm, dignified and unhurried.
Then, the unforgettable moment driving across the 24 mile long Lake Pontchartrain Causeway, the longest bridge over water in the world heading straight into New Orleans. The moment you arrive you know. The houses burst with color, pink with purple trim, orange and yellow, turquoise and coral as if the city itself insists on being alive.
Falling For New Orleans
While most know New Orleans for the French Quarter and Bourbon Street, its true magic lives in the neighborhoods. People smile, wave and talk to you not out of politeness, but because that’s simply what you do here. Whether in line at a grocery store or passing someone on your morning walk with the dog, connections here feel easy and natural.
It’s no wonder the city is often called a foodie paradise. You can find nearly every type of cuisine from Thai to Ethiopian. But it’s the local flavors, the Creole, the Cajun, the soulful plates from the myriad of food trucks tucked on side streets that tell the story of New Orleans. I cannot forget to mention the music culture in the city. Some evenings you hear jazz floating through the air. Other days you pass a Second Line, a spontaneous parade celebrating everything from birthdays to funerals to simply being alive.
New Orleans has learned to live with hurricanes and the heavy summer heat. Maybe that is part of its wisdom. The people here have an unspoken understanding that life is precious and unpredictable. So you might as well celebrate when you can. Celebrate as a community and look out for each other.
Living there for a month and a half reminded me why I love this city. It’s vibrant, soulful and deeply human. It moves at its own rhythm, one that encourages you to slow down, savor and connect. Falling for New Orleans was easy.
New Orleans doesn’t just welcome you, it teaches you something about resilience, joy and community. Lessons that stay long after you’ve crossed that bridge again.
Thanks for being here,
-Soraya
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