When you first arrive to Jo's house, as travelers who have never stayed in New Orleans, or Tremé, you admittedly (and ignorantly) become worried. Our definitions of "safe" automatically set to clean, cookie-cutter communities with no signs of wear and tear. And so when I looked over at my boyfriend, and saw his face turn pale, I thought, "Uh oh. What did I just get us into?"
But an hour into New Orleans, you realize that this city is all about community. And in that respect, everywhere is safe.
Now, did we walk around at night? No. We Ubered just about everywhere ($5-$6 a ride to downtown, French Quarter, Bourbon Street). But each time we came back, we saw on the corner of the street a large community--BBQing, drinking, laughing, enjoying each other's company. And when our Uber would pass our house, the folks a few houses down would say, "Hey! They're over there! Go back!" And we'd thank them and they'd waive at us with a smile.
And when we left, one of those gentlemen came over to us on his motorcycle, and he said, "Did ya have a good time?" And we said, "Loved it!" And he said back, "All right, then. Now you best come back here to New Orleans, all right?" And we said we would. And we definitely will.
Jo's house is wonderful. It's quaint, it's beautifully furnished, it's just what we needed. But it's also incredibly valuable and unique, and taught us an important lesson: Judge not a book by its cover, but by the contents inside. The people here--of Tremé, and of New Orleans--are good, wholesome, loving people. And I cannot wait to return to them once again.
Thank you, Jo! And thank you New Orleans!