A Filipino in New Orleans

During my most recent visit to NOLA and strolling in the Quarters (French Market, Bourbon St), on numerous occasions I ran across the Philippine flag's color as backdrop to the recognizable 3 Fleur de Lis emblem of New Orleans. These flags/banners were flown by merchants in the fronts of their businesses. I wondered if these sightings are associated to comments made in past visits when people whom I met and chatted with, upon learning I am Filipino warmly volunteered “someone in my family” is Filipino (by marriage).

Reflecting on these incidences potential meaning, I read up on Filipinos in New Orleans. There is a written reference in Harper's Weekly during late 1800's (cited in Wikipedia) discussing the Manilamen along the shores. I remembered a librarian from the University of New Orleans giving a talk (during my undergraduate years) on the same topic Manilamen and their settlements near and around the Orleans Parish. These were Filipino men who off-boarded from the Spanish galleon fleet, near what we now recognize as New Orleans. My fellow countrymen settled in St. Malo, Jefferson, St. Bernard, and Plaquemines Parishes.

What does this mean for me? Beyond, I feel comfortable here. A contributing source to these feeling can be attributed to A, a dear and old friend who resettled here, and fostered my many discoveries. My first memory of New Orleans centers in waiting for her and the U-Haul’s arrival, the year before Katrina. I volunteered to drive down from Boston with her, and we agreed instead I would help her unload her belongings into her home (previously her grandmother’s) in the seventh ward. New Orleans struck me as welcoming and vaguely familiar.

Back in my stroll, I begin to wonder if the range of skin tones contributed to feelings of somehow belonging, or whether others related to my facial features, marking me as a possible inhabitant/resident past or current. Musings of a traveler who experience a sense of place like nowhere else I’ve been. Having been in many cities in the US and abroad, I find myself drawn to this place, a most ‘not American city” in the country.

Separately, I observe the relative ease in how people live their lives. Whether during the heat of summer, the temperate fall and early winter and during the holidays I’ve found myself celebrating with A, often I see families with young children and elders together. And it is not uncommon for folks to greet one another in the streets, or stores, pulling over their car and inquiring about family and kin.

On this recent trip, A and I visited many of her local haunts, including shrimp and crab palaces/shacks below the Interstate; Bullits a local dive bar where neighborhood “Creole men” can often be found; Bywater (near the Industrial Canal and old Miss river) where many local migrants resettled since it was not affected by the floods of Katrina. Changes in the immediate neighborhoods of the 7th ward are becoming apparent, more people, more street lights are lit, and roads are being repaved.

Among my cherished memories in this last visit is the taste of “Creole Tamale,” where the vendor instead of corn husk used parchment paper. Throughout my food adventures the subtle but richly spiced New Orleans style was front and center in my palate. Spicy different from hot, associated to the pepper heat, familiar to us who enjoy Mexican, Vietnamese, Indian or sometimes Thai food. Nawhlins cooking is a richly blended flavor giving the food both complexity and heat. A case in point, on the 4th, on our way to the airport, we stopped at a coworker and friend of Ginger’s for a BBQ. We sat outside, had a pile of “memorable” bbq’d chicken and pork. It was savory, sweetened by the tomato based sauce, managing to taste smoky and peppery. I chowed down as A described, noting my finger licking action, the mound of red beans and rice, and potato salad which complimented the meal.

As a traveler, I find ways to better understand inchoate impressions adding to my sense of the place. Of all the cities in the US I've seen through work and wanderings, Nawhlins stands out. Is the magic special to this place, its notable practice of Voodoo, entered my conscientiousness?