NOLA IRL

Until very recently, New Orleans was the most important U.S. city that I had not visited, but I had been stalking it for years. A search of New Orleans on this blog yields many examples of my geographic musings about this fascinating city. I have read quite a few books about it, watched Tremé start-to-finish and even taught an Honors Colloquium on this most Latin American of North American cities. 

Café du Monde was, of course, among our first destinations.

But I had never made the time to go. The seeds of change came in the autumn of 2025, when our son traveled there with two close friends, one of whom had been there before, and both of whom have known me since they were little kids. The fact that I had never been, it turns out, was a frequent topic of conversation during their vacation. They brought back lovely gifts and what amounted to an admonishment to make the trip myself. 

My spouse quickly agreed. We had not had a proper vacation since Covid, our 2019 Malbeclipse journey to Chile and Argentina having been the last extended travel we had done without an academic or family objective. 

So it was decided: Spring Break 2026 would be an actual break. Off to the Crescent City we went. This was my first New Orleans visit and Pam's second. About a dozen years ago, she went to a conference there and did manage to do some sightseeing. In fact, her vampire tour was fodder for guest lectures in my aforementioned colloquium. But this was to be a first trip for both of us in many respects.

We stayed in a generic but quite comfortable hotel on the edge of the French Quarter, exploring what we could by foot in that area. In addition, we took a bus tour of the city, a ghost tour of French Quarter, a swamp tour just outside the city, and a food class and walking tour of the Tabasco facilities on Avery Island (this ended up being the only use of our rented car). We were also absolutely thrilled to learn that the New Orleans Book Festival was beginning during the final days of our stay, and that some dear friends from Massachusetts would be visiting friends of theirs in Bywater on our last night. In other words, we had a very full schedule -- almost like a study tour, but with no teaching responsibilities. 

I cannot help but teach about places, however, so this blog post is a pointer to a thoroughly annotated collection of the photos I took. That same kid who encouraged me to make this journey also makes fun of my continued use of the Flickr site, but I find it a handy way to gather and share remembrances, so please have a look, either by going to the NOLA 2026 folder on Flickr or by using its slideshow below. In both cases, annotations appear below each photo, albeit a bit awkwardly.

Some of these photos are included in an updated version of my slide set New Orleans: Latin American City, along with many other images and graphics about that way of thinking about the city.

Amazonia açu

The Amazon is where I became a geographer. More specifically, while I was an undergraduate student in linguistics, a friend recommended that I take a class with a professor who had done a lot of research among the Kayapo and caboclos of the eastern Amazon basin -- specifically in the Xingu sub-basin -- and I was hooked. I took five classes with that professor. Some of these had to do with other facets of environmental geography, but all were rooted in his experiences in Brazil.

It took me about a decade to get there myself, for dissertation research in Rondônia in 1996 and again with my family in 2000, a biology student in 2003, for a conference presentation in 2019, and for a very long boat ride in 2023. Followers of this blog will have found some of the lessons learned scattered throughout. Many are gathered in the materals for my Amazônia: Fables to Forest course.

So when the algorithms began to tell me about the Amazonia açu exhibit in New York City, I began to make plans to visit. I had missed some of the fanfare around its opening and the opportunity to visit during our winter break. To make a very long story short, I was grateful to be able to get to the exhibit on its penultimate day with my spouse -- who is both the daughter and mother of artists and was with me on my second Amazon adventure. We were both very grateful for the experience!

It is not possible -- and probably not appropriate -- to capture the entire exhibit in my own photos. But I could not resist taking a few, which I have posted in a Flickr album. Until I get a chance to annotate the photos, the photos I took of many of the caption cards can help to guide viewers. 

A Vaca tirando o serengueiro de casa
(The cow taking the rubber tapper out of his home)

This painting by Hélio Melo spoke most powerfully to me. He was born in Acre (pronounced AH-kree) in 1926 and lived as a rubber tapper (aviamento) for much of his live before becoming a painter. Many of his works are subtle commentaries about the lives of rubber tappers and their displacement by mining, cattle, and even sume rubber operations. 

Note: It is not quite the same as being there, but the exhibt catalog -- which the curators call a pocket book because it is quite compact -- is available through the eponymous online retailer for just $5. Related fun fact: although I bought this book in person, my very first purchase on Amazon.com was another book about the region that informed the final drafts of my dissertation.