Northern NOLAs

I've had the extraordinary pleasure this past week of meeting Southerners who are just like Northerners; good people who speak their minds and and care little for what you do -- but are more impressed by personality than profligacy.

Where are these pseudo-Northerners? They are in the South of North America. Confused yet? That's New Orleans, Louisianna ... or NOLA for you afficionados of the acronym.

Now, historically, the folks 'down there' don't like the English much. A big argument that goes back three hundred years and comes from the city being built by French and Spanish settlers who were sold a property scam by an Irishman and were determined to keep this swampy bit of The Americas all to themselves. Fair enough. There's even a spot on the Mississippi called 'Turning Point' where the French Captain told the Captain of an English Vessel looking to drop anchor not to bother ... so the English turned away. I have several such turning points around Yorkshire but usually because I can't be bothered to keep searching for chocolate so not quite so politically significant! Anyway, fair enough and well-played. But they do like much that the English like -- including noise, revelry, alcohol and fried food ... the latter two are oft-ascribed to Northerners.

Similiarly, these NOLA-Northerners are used to their counterparts in the opposite part of the country taking pleasure in pinning labels on them of slow, dumb or poor on account of their accents. I have empathy with this. On countless occasions I have had people feel inspired to adopt a 'thick Northerner' accent when they learn where I live and to be surprised that I don't spend my days scrubbing front steps or the mucky faces of my progeny -- but infact am reasonably well-read, well-travelled and well-rounded. And no, that's not me circling back to the fastfood again.

I am always somewhat bemused by the way that people draw conclusions about you based on where you're from ... isn't where you're heading the more interesting part of the story? Furthermore, impersonating someone and expecting less of them based on their accent is surely a form of bullying and while not racism it is regional-ism. I get told I am 'chippy' about this ... but if you saw someone being picked on for the colour of their skin you'd step in; what about the colour of their communication?

I struggled this week with the pace of the chat ... I loved the drawl and respect of the 'yes ma'am' and learned a lot about just taking a little longer to show courtesy and not be so reactive. Partly the strong Louisianna sun, partly the desire to slow down and enjoy life a little more contributed to this. And it was all marinated in a lot of alcohol (with even a 'to-go' cup to ensure you didn't even have to walk between establishments without booze-in-hand). But as a charming Southern Belle explained to me at a chichi Charles Avenue lawn party, "these folks start off being all about what they do and are constantly on their smart phones in the middle of the Superbowl ... we just let them know that we don't care about all that stuff ... who dat?".

Which just serves to remind me how good it is to come home; to put feet on soil where you're known for you - not for what you do. And it doesn't matter what accent you hear 'Welcome Home' in ... just that you hear it.