NEW ORLEANS—There are two types of conversations you often overhear in New Orleans today. Almost 22 months after Hurricane Katrina, so many things come back to "before the storm" and "after Katrina."
Judging from the areas in and around the famed historic tourist district called the French Quarter, it is difficult to tell that the devastation of the levee breaches and the ensuing storm surge ever hit this city in August 2005. Buildings are clean and well kept, still slowly aging under the baking sun. There are no signs of flood damage, aside from the less than full restaurants and bars along Bourbon Street and other well-known thoroughfares.
But head east to the Lower Ninth Ward where the epicenter of three levee breaks occurred and the scenery changes drastically. Or go north over Lake Ponchartrain to the swamps and bayous seen in movies like O Brother, Where Art Thou? and Interview With a Vampire.
Buildings morph from charming, French-style edifices and colorful exteriors to ramshackle houses and buildings that look like they have been abandoned for 20 years. Recovered structures are mixed in, showing definite signs of progress and recovery.
But it is still impossible to miss the crude markings, made soon after the storm, on the fronts of the now abandoned buildings. The bold, spray-painted X's with coded letterings broadcast four pieces of basic information: when the building was searched, the organization that carried out the search, the number of hazards found, and the number of dead bodies found.
And then there are other numbers—1, then 3. The emptiness of so many places so close together where lives were ended is magnified by the widespread impact that was the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.
Head east on the 610 freeway and a similar scene is repeated. What would be, under normal circumstances, miles of mixed-use development off the freeway outside of New Orleans becomes another reminder of the slow pace of federal assistance and insurance payouts.
New Orleans is a city still struggling to reclaim its personality, life, and vivaciousness. Many potential tourists are kept away by rumors of violence and danger in the city. But some locals feel that their newfound reputation is inaccurate.
"We had our bad areas of the city before the storm," said one front-desk hotel clerk and native New Orleans resident who did not wish to be identified. "Those bad areas people are talking about now—the storm didn't make that happen."
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