Say it aloud or to yourself, "Ponte Vecchio." It almost sounds musical, as if it were meant to be sung. Ponte Vecchio! The words just roll off your tongue. Some names, words, or combinations, are like that. They play to the ear. For me, "Ponte Vecchio" is just one of those instances where the sound of the name is a nod to its mythology. In English, "the old bridge" (in translation) obviously lacks that same quality, but in Italian, its catchy cadence, sonorous ring, lyrical lift if you will-- not unlike the sounds of the reverential Katmandu, the romance of a Zanzibar or the anticipation of a Santorini-- leave me wanting more. I can almost feel its exoticism and a touch of the magical.

Spanning the Arno

But "Ponte Vecchio" is much more than an appealing sound. Sounds as we know, sensed or heard, can create pictures in our minds. But in this particular case, the lure of Ponte Vecchio is not just about the fantasies conjured up in one's mind, but about a unique series of structures, steeped in history as it were, and how they ultimately came to capture the world's imagination.

Ponte Vecchio, Arno River Ponte Vecchio

Ponte Santa Trinita #1

Ponte Santa Trinita

I chose to shoot nighttime images (several from the nearby Ponte Santa Trinita) not just to capture its structural beauty but to emphasize its charm. Such images I hope will transport you to a certain time and place where the words "awe and respect" come to mind. And surprisingly, perhaps, accompanied by a visceral connection to centuries gone by. After all, how many lives can one bridge have?

Ponte Santa Trinita, Reflections #1

Reflections under Ponte Santa Trinita looking towards Ponte Vecchio

I wonder about this. About the gestalt. About how things become more than the sum of their parts. About how a simple bridge can create such reverence and fascination. I also wonder about you, the viewer—if perhaps the images, upon viewing them, will summon you to a journey of your own. Who knows, we might even find ourselves traveling together back in time, or across time, or to someplace unanticipated.

Ponte Santa Trinita, Reflections #2

Reflections/Ponte Santa Trinita/Ponte Vecchio

The bridge, one of the most popular in human history, has conveyed this lore since the early days of the Roman Empire when it was first built. It is a bridge with a storied past. Made of wood, the first Ponte Vecchio burned to the ground, but yet there are no written records to document such an event. On the other hand, records first appeared over a millennium ago, in the year 966 AD.

Ponte Vecchio, Shops #2

Ponte Vecchio

Later there are references to floods that destroyed the bridge in 1117 and 1333. It was an important bridge across the River Arno even back in the Middle Ages. In 1345, to withstand the currents and the elements, it was once again rebuilt, (but this time with three sturdy stone arches) by Taddeo Gaddi, a pupil of the famous painter Giotto. This is the moment when art and science came together to create a bridge-- intentionally or otherwise-- where lovers go, where imagination springs eternal, where time stops; where the sound of a name conjures up romance, resilience, and a mystique all its own. This is the version that lasted. The current one. The one we see today. The one that thus far at least, has withstood the test of time.

Ponte Santa Trinita, #2

Ponte Santa Trinita with structures along the Arno River

Unlike ordinary bridges, the Ponte Vecchio was designed with shops and trade in mind. First with meat markets and tanners and the like where commoners could conduct their daily business. A place for commerce and commoners. But then later, with an upper corridor so the Medici family didn’t have to mingle with the public, and later yet as an upscale venue with goldsmiths and a jeweler’s row to elevate its appeal and ambience, adding to its awe and allure.

Ponte Vecchio, Shops #3

Ponte Vecchio

The bridge, unique in these many ways, has long been home to one kind of vendor or another. The elaborate doors, wood and metal carvings, and locks and hinges protect the valued goods stored inside while adding to its charm. Combined with the expensive inventory housed within, the very nuts and bolts themselves convey the talent and craftsmanship of the artisans of the day.

Ponte Vecchio, Shops #1

Ponte Vecchio

The Ponte Vecchio is the only bridge in Florence not destroyed by the retreating German army in 1944, and has become a symbol of resilience, everlasting spirit, and through the ages, particularly for the city of Florence, a well-defined piece of its cultural heritage. There are myriad pictures of the Ponte Vecchio to be sure, but the majority of them attempt to capture the physical reality of the structure. But my study if you will, shot at night, by design, for a different purpose, hopefully communicates the sentiments previously described. With its multi-colored lights and darkness as a backdrop, I tried to capture the essence of the bridge’s colorful history and storied past to the degree that an image can portray such things.

Ponte Vecchio, Viewpoint

Ponte Vecchio

I tried to seize the moment, and instead of just photographing the bridge itself, my eye was after its mythology. Sentiment, in its best sense, is not easily transferable to “film” or communicated via an object through the lens. But I tried to touch its soul. Take a look. Let me know if you can hear, as you "listen" to these images, the mellifluous sound of the Ponte Vecchio as it serenades us from a thousand years ago. The sound, I believe, emanates with every glance.

Ponte Vecchio, Hardware #1

Ponte Vecchio, Hardware #2

Ponte Vecchio, Nightlife

Nighttime Strolling and Serenading along the Ponte Vecchio

Having recently returned from a trip to Italy, I thought most people would ask about art, history, and maybe politics.

Instead, the first question I heard was usually, "So, how was the pizza"?

Given my own pizza-loving proclivities it was heart-warming to see that people had their priorities right.

Yet words failed me.

You can only say so much about spices, tastes, and technique, before eyes glaze over.

So I decided, especially since this is a photography site,

to let the pies speak for themselves.

In Italy, one size fits all. Everybody gets their own pie.

These in Milan were some of the best.

Lactose intolerant-- and forgot your lactaid pills?

Get the "marinara"  - no cheese - but the sauce was to die for.

What's unusual about this next one from Florence?

The anchovies?

Nope.

It's the fact that it came sliced.

Usually they do not.

Your own knife, fork, and conviction typically provide that service.

Here's another one from Florence.

Each slice with it's own topping.

The style generally throughout the country

is typically to cook them well done.

And you'll notice the pies are never served on metal trays.

Every pizza is brought to the table on an individual plate.

This one from Tuscany has a crispier crust than most,

a luscious sauce, and

homemade mozzarrela.

Even though most restaurants have pizza on the menu,

The best pizzas are found in pizzerias

where it is considered an art form.

The pizza-makers--

finessing the deal with a twist of the wrist--

and the wood-fired oven-- are the stars of the show.

The following slices can be found anywhere.

You've had them or something like them before.

Common. Sometimes regrettable.

If hungry, sure, such things will make you less hungry.

And here's proof, despite the fact that 

Italy is a pizza paradise,

it is no Nirvana.

Probably the worst I had, in Naples of all places,

the reputed birthplace of the species,

is this one that was, honestly, inedible.

They actually served it like that.

Here's a white,

from the ancient walled city of Montepulciano in the heart of Tuscany.

with locally sourced sausage and broccoli rabe.

Visually it doesn't charm like some of the others,

but the word "delectable" comes to mind.

But at the more fashionable extreme is this "pizzalonga".

Also from Montepulciano.

Fresh barrata, locally grown tomatoes, and pesto.

Artful. Robust. Unforgettable.

Most pizzerias use locally sourced ingredients

and their doughs are often a unique blend of flours.

But further south in Naples,

the pies are more familiar,

characterized collectively in my mind, as "urban" pizza,

which is the best I can do to capture the mood.

Ardent. Savory. Bold.

Memorable.

Here's one from the Quartieri Spagnoli

section of Naples.

Well done as most are

and augmented with the Spanish flare,

the palate was left tingling for...

I want to say days. :)

Further south in Salerno on the Amalfi coast,

we have this tasty morsel. A white pie. Humble,

perfectly seasoned, and like most throughout the country,

a paper thin crust that cooks in 2-3 minutes with

a soft crust and no crunch that melts in your mouth.

And finally, returning north to Venice, we have these two beauties.

The first, cooking in the usual range of 330-400 degrees,

it is graced with anchovies, olives, and capers.

The second, with fresh tomatoes and shaved

pecorino and parmesan was a rare find.

 I believe it's fair to say, that despite declarations by the critics, there is no "best" anywhere.

It's mostly a matter of opinion, taste, and preference.

The caveat being of course, sure, some are better than others.

From location to location, kitchen to kitchen, the prep and cooking styles differ.

Pizza in the States is equally as good as in Italy.

Just different.

The obvious differences?

Generally speaking, Italian pies are thinner,

(use a knife and fork because it's hard to pick up the slices until the end),

they cook more quickly (2-3 minutes)

the crusts are soft not crispy (likely due to the water and doughs)

the flavors are often more subtle,

and the ingredients are frequently fresh and locally sourced, (often times homemade/grown).

This of course is a generalization.

A good pie, anywhere in Italy or in the States

is a treasure to behold.

THE END

Having worked up an appetite after departing the Paddington Station on the H&C underground line, we found ourselves at Formosa Street, a charming block with a handful of local shops.  At the end of the street we found ourselves standing in front of "Paulette", a little French restaurant that seemed to have our name on it so to speak. We hesitated for a few seconds, communicating with each other through body language, glances and eye rolls, while debating non-verbally as to whether we were going to give into the lure of a scrumptious French lunch or move on to more affordable everyday fare as originally planned. That's when, to our surprise, we found ourselves comfortably seated outside at a sunlit deuce which quickly became a four-top as the two gents who were seated next to us abruptly left in response to a sudden business call. We were now settled into our seats and pleased with the ambience of the street as well as ourselves for having given in to the impulse.

We selected a glass of Pinot Noir from the wine list and then ordered three of the entrees to share: Velouté de Courge Butternut (Roasted butternut squash soup with thyme & garlic, Camembert rôti (Baked Camembert served with croutons & chutney) and the Moules "Bretonne® (Mussels cooked with cider & smoked bacon). The mussels were medium in size, rich in color, and with and meaty texture; the soup, light but flavorful, provided a nice balance to the shellfish; and my favorite of the three, the roasted camembert with the crunchy toasts and chutney that I believe is the kind of plate that screams "vive La France." Mehli, our server, brought us some French bread without our asking when he spied the wine sauce sitting forlornly at the bottom of the bowl of moules, remarking, "I know you don't want to let that sauce go to waste," as he set the bread plate before us. An espresso and a delectable creme brulee topped off the afternoon. Our leisurely "in the moment" lunch extended well into the late afternoon, thus requiring a return visit in order to search for those old Maida Vale haunts. I smiled to my self, wondering if we would succeed with even a second attempt or if serendipity would strike twice in the same place. I was certainly willing to provide the opportunity.

Click on the Blog Title and then on the next page click on the URL link. This will take you to the published article in Yucatan Living.

10/11/2022

paulrappoportphotography.com                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

THE SERENDIPITY

OF STREET PHOTOGRAPHY

It could happen in an instant or build over time. It might be serious, humorous, or somewhere in between. How about curious or just mundane? It's essentially urban but it can occur in a small town. What is it? It's life, everyday life. It's human behavior. Human emotion. It's who we are. It's what the street photographer attempts to capture at its most precious moments. It's still on "film" for some, but nowadays mostly measured in bytes.

It's mostly candid, but not always. It's the spirit of the street: those ordinary or exceptional moments that would otherwise go unnoticed. The ones that touch us emotionally for untold reasons.

Bread Baskets It has roots in painting (even some of the masters used it) and in photojournalism. It occurs in a split second when something unusual happens. It's transitory. Without that once-only moment preserved, the image would be lost forever. The street photographer transforms the ephemeral into permanency by gifting us a gem with the click of a shutter.

It can turn the unconventional, the enigmatic, the imperfect, into art. It can communicate a sentiment, a reality, a morality, a socio-political assertion, or a desire. It's a trickster. The photographer's trick though is first to see it, then recognize its merit, and then finally bring us the package signed, sealed, delivered. Bourbon Street Strut

But not every photographer is comfortable with street photography. It takes a certain personality. The art form is predicated not just on the shooting but on who's taking the shot. Street photography is a quirky sort of affair and not for the faint of heart. In fact, for the photographer to be a tad off kilter might even be an essential ingredient. The street photographer may actually have a take on life that begs the question, is he completely normal? (Yes, a joke, of course, but in this sense you must learn to tolerate, or even love, your local street photographer, please.)

The composition of the shot is central to good work. There are times when the action is so fast, the subject matter so unusual, and the action so unexpected, that the image comes together only after the fact: its value recognized post hoc. In this photograph (just below), captured on the street in Montreal, the idea was simply to shoot the outrageously augmented wall. Such a shot would have been sufficiently interesting in its own right, but I spotted the bicyclist coming. I hesitated. What to do? Let him pass? Include him? I wondered. But then the extravagance of the image caught his eye too. He could not resist a glance. The turn of his head created an unexpected but wonderful emphasis I could only have wished for. The image becomes that much more compelling with the cyclist's surprise appearance and his singular action. That's the essence of street photography. Simply put, what makes an image worth keeping is the serendipity of the street-- the unexpected happenstance that makes the art form come alive. Peep Show

On other occasions, however, there might be a plan in mind where the idea for the shot is preconceived. The "event" hasn't happened yet but the photographer can hope. The time and patience waiting for it to evolve can test one's resolve. Will the imagined circumstances occur?  Will the image come to fruition? It can be challenging and raises all sorts of doubts about the original concept. The image below was shot in Greenwich Village. I only had a vague idea what I was looking for. Positioning myself in order to get the composition I wanted was itself half the battle. Then it was a matter of waiting. Suddenly it appeared in the lens. I fired off several shots and was fortunate to end up with a synchronous image, planned yet unexpected. I was also a little intimidated by the police car parked across the street. Had the officer seen me squatting against the building with camera in hand, who knows what he might have thought. I cropped the shot as pictured.       Village Strut                      

This next image I like to call "hybrid" in street photography terms because I take a piece of existing art and modify it either during the shooting or in the editing process or both in order to create a new image. This photograph, "Reflections on Rue Paul", shot in the area of Old Quebec, appealed to me because I initially loved the color and the dynamism in the painting, but by incorporating the clouds and the surrounding buildings in the reflection I was able to capture the sensibility of the moment. The art, the architecture, and the beautiful day came together in a unique and encompassing image, capturing the emotion that I felt at the time. It's interesting how, in this way, photography communicates something not solely about the subject of the image, but in this instance, about the psychology of the image maker.                                                                             

"Scootin' La Latina (Freedom Riders)": On the street, all this being said, there is no substitute for good fortune. In this next instance I had my camera at the ready because I wanted to capture the hustle and bustle as the sun was going down in this residential neighborhood in Madrid. Just at that moment, a streak of sunlight snaked its way through the buildings as a young couple scooted by as if the rays were their own private spotlight. The street scene without the scootering couple would have satisfied my original intent, but this particular moment fell into my lap. The sun peeks out, scooter appears, and the simple street scene becomes a unique moment in time, permanently recorded.

When I'm in the role of street photographer, I am either filled with anticipation, frustration, or excitation, depending on whether opportunities appear or fail to appear. There are also times when opportunities land in your lap like an offering when you least expect it-- and maybe even when you're not even thinking about it. In this unusual image, where polarities of sorts spontaneously came together, a piece I call "Transformation-Liberation #2", I leisurely reached for my camera, slipped off the lens cover, and captured the moment. On such occasions the experience is effortless. You don't seek it. The picture comes to you . Trans-Formation Liberation #2

Because life itself is filled with the unexpected, because working on the street is its own magical mystery tour, enticing opportunities for the street photographer are endless. But that said, some of the more ordinary-- even mundane-- activities of daily life can still lend themselves to engaging images. More often than not-- despite the appeal of offbeat moments, special interest subjects, or the use of a clever technique-- the more successful street shots simply capture unremarkable circumstances that connect emotionally with the viewer. In this shot from Lyon, France, a woman with her dogs continues to be popular. The orange hat, the cigarette, the fan, even the dress and slippers add flavor to the picture. A lucky turn of the head by the white dog who has obviously spied something of interest, brings the composition full circle.

Madame Accoutrement

The challenge for the street photographer is to never lose hope. The images are out there somewhere. It requires time on the street scanning, positioning, and imagining-- and maybe even beseeching the Petitioner gods-- as this ardent fellow in Nerja, Spain was wont to do. Finding your image requires patience. It also requires trust that if not today, than maybe tomorrow, the opportunity will present itself. In my experience street work is one of the more gratifying and potentially creative-- maybe I'll even risk "artistic"-- types of photography out there. And when all is said and done, street photography should be a source of joy, maybe even exhilaration, and should never ever drive you crazy. Here's my sense of what can happen to a photographer who hasn't quite mastered the fine art of equanimity while wandering aimlessly on the street in search of his next image. (May Be) Communicating Intensity

Paul Rappoport (c)

Andalusia, Barcelona and Madrid

This post accompanies the photographs in the gallery for Spain

in the Travel section of the Portfolio.

As you will see from viewing the work and reading the descriptions below,

this "travelogue" of sorts is more about my experiences along

the way rather than a description of where

to go and what to see. 

I am happy to have you along for the journey.  

Dona Azul

As you stroll easterly along Alfonso Street in Seville, you’ll first pass the Museo de Bellas Artes and then the bus station at Plaza de Armas at the foot of the Cachorro bridge. There, along the canal, colorful murals decorate the walls along the canal.  The most alluring of the lot, with her blue coif, I call “Dona Azul”.

De Rojo

Taberna del Papelon of Seville, very red and active, begs to be photographed. So oblige I did. The passersby caught my eye, as well as the unusual window reflections and the blue accenting taxi sign. Although too chilly to sit outside, once the shutter was tripped, the tapas inside, as well as the chorizo, wine and cheese offered a second reward.

Seville Oscuridad

The elevation of the Metropol Parasol in the old quarter of Seville allows for a rooftop view of the city. Here, as evening sets in, the golden hued domes and steeples-- set against an evening’s graying sky-- speak to a city of significant history and charm.

Animador

As you cross the footbridge on your way to La Mezquita (the medieval Islamic Mosque of Cordoba) you will find yourself transported back in time by the mesmerizing music of the “Animador”. I was struck by the color of his accordion, his classical Spanish persona, his sweet face. 

The Hands of Semana Santa

Witness a religious procession in Seville during Holy Week: Here, brawny young men, the “costaleros”,  frequently laboring types working on the docks, parade through the city carrying a metal and wood-beamed “float”, often weighed down by religious figures, statues and biblical scenes. During the practice run depicted here, I found the position of the various hands uniquely symbolic.

“Chicuelo”

This was the nickname given to Manuel Jiminez Moreno, the famous bullfighter from Seville.  This detail was taken from the statue in Alameda Square, placed there by the mayor of Seville.  The fine decoration of the “suit of lights”, especially the montera  (bullfighter’s hat), and that haunting look, caught my eye.

Co-Locate

The cities, villages and neighborhoods in Andalusia offer a divergent array of tastes and styles in everything from architecture to costume to cuisine. Sometimes the contrasts can be found side by side as in this photograph of entryways.

Calle Pages

In the Albaicin neighborhood of Granada, first settled by the Romans and later by the Moors, winding, narrow, stone-covered streets still exist today as they did a thousand years ago. During the day and evening hours in this quaint section of town, the streets are bustling with shopkeepers and shoppers, locals and tourists, and children at play. In the later hours, some still find themselves afoot, as captured in this dramatically toned scene on Pages Street.

Nerja Beach, Painted Cove, Sunstorm, “Varieted”, Medtide

Nerja, a beach resort along Spain’s Costa del Sol, sits on a promontory overlooking the Mediterranean Sea with the Sierra Mountains as a backdrop. In addition to the cliffs, coves, and hillsides, the changing weather patterns in the off-season make for fertile seascape photography. This series of three picturesque scenes and the two surfside shots are just a few of the many opportunities available to those with a photographic bent.

Frigiliana and El Adarve

The old district of Frigiliana, a small village in the mountains north of Nerja, was settled by the Moors and is known for its architectural style typical of the craftsmen who settled there. The town, built on a hill with steep-stepped and winding alleyways, narrow cobbled streets, and white-washed houses offers a glimpse back in time. From this perch, the Andalusia countryside glistens below. 

Picasso Intersection

On an early spring day when the bright sun enticed people from their homes, I was seated at an outdoor café on the Plaza de la Merced in Malaga, the city where Picasso was born. My view of Picasso’s Les Femme d’Alger-- a mural on the rear wall of the Casa Natal de Picasso (the house in which the artist was born)-- caught my eye. But the art was obscured by the sign that came between us. I thought, rather than move my table, I would just incorporate the sign into the photo. I think it works much better that way.

Casa Fantasia

Just about every rule of photography has been trashed in this shot. The subject is uncertain, the composition defies reason, and the saving graces of beauty or “meaningful message” remain elusive. But street photography sometimes is more about capturing an unspoken experience of immediacy, place or sensation than it is about following the rules. There was just something about this particular visual frame that said to me, “take it”!

Petitioner

Here’s a “friend” of mine who I photographed over a period of several days. I found him in dramatic poses, gesticulating as he cavorted about the beach. This particular display captured the essence of his “work”.  Was he communing with a higher power, living out a fantasy, or was he an actor rehearsing for a play? Maybe the wine bottle tells the tale. When we met sometime later, much by accident, there was little unusual about him other than that he had left his sandals on the beach and commented that it was a very good wine.

Malaga Heights

The long walk up the spiraling road to Alcazaba, the 11^th century citadel atop the city of Malaga, is rewarded by many beautiful vistas of the city and beaches below. While some views remain completely unobstructed, others deny you much visual opportunity at all. In “Malaga Heights”, the dense foliage and early blossoms of spring conceal the distant views, surprising us instead with the splendor within arm’s reach.

Agility

When surrounded by so much natural beauty it is easy to forget how much imagination and creativity can be found in commercial art and design. In this storefront in Barcelona the graphics of this Nike sneaker display, with its image of the runner in the background intrigued me. I found it extremely effective in  communicating its message which is what inspired me to document it.

Mercado Delights

This image, shot in a Barcelona market, is a reminder that art-- if we are willing to see it and to take the time to do so-- exists all around us.  Here, a commonplace and mundane event—drinks for sale-- when viewed at the right angle and with the proper lighting and presentation, can become a work of art.  Capturing one of these images serves as a reminder to me of how much I am missing everyday.  I pledge to keep my eyes open.

Passeig de Gracia

Antoni Gaudi’s architectural achievements can be found throughout the city of Barcelona. Here, on Passeig de Gracia, you will find Casa Batllo, one of Gaudi’s many masterpieces. Although not the primary subject in this photo, there is a glimpse of the building in the far right corner. It was while visiting Casa Batllo that I captured this highly unusual street scene primarily centered on the motorcycles and the array of reflective mirrors in the foreground. I softened the feel of the background to emphasize the varied reflections.

Barcelona Boys

This could be Barcelona’s answer to Venice Beach, CA. With the turbulent sky as background, the postures and positions of the young men and their colorful apparatus and attire created a photographic opportunity.  The shot is taken from a low vantage point, enhancing the dramatic effect of the photo.

Quimera

The unusual combination of elements in this photograph make it unique. The dramatic and colorful sky, the curious shape of the building in the distance, the glistening reflections of light on the water, and the ambiguous activity on the water’s surface come together to create an almost mythical or illusory image. Taken in the evening in Barcelona, it was the last shot of the day with available light.

Dias Madrid

Few shots shout “Madrid” like this one with its narrowing linear perspective.  The architecture and rust-colored hues capture the classical style so familiar to the city. This picture, shot in early evening, was taken just blocks away from the famed Plaza Mayor.

Balcones

In this black and white shot, a man alone, in black coat and hat and white scarf, stands poised on a balcony gazing down at the street below. The juxtaposition of the human figure with the building in stark muted white adds contrast and drama. The repetitive nature of the stylized windows and dark railings adds another layer of interest. All these elements materialize in a candid serendipitous moment.

Dulces and Spiral Hues

The best way to mark the end of an exciting journey is to do it the same the way we bring closure to a fine meal: with a delectable sweet. This candy shop window in Madrid, with its exquisite lighting, colorful display, and textured candied-strands serves as a fitting exclamation mark. In Spiral Hues, a cropped close-up of the candy in the window converts the recognizable object to an abstraction. 

         Eyes still closed? Good. Now imagine that these exceptional tunes emanate not just from your favorite pop artists but from some of the most creative and inspired musicians and singers you’ll ever hear: from veterans who have performed for years-- the musical backbone of their genres-- to young inventive talent who bring abundant energy, fresh ideas and new takes to the classics.

         Now imagine finally that you can switch from one genre of music to another in an instant, not by changing channels or by tickling a touchscreen, but simply by strolling a few hundred feet in either direction to the next stage. Now open your eyes. Imagine no further, because all this time you’ve been at Jazzfest. Jazz & Heritage Stage

          When it comes to New Orleans, most people fall into one of three categories: either you've already been there, you plan on going, or you’ll end up there eventually whether you know it or not. How can I be so sure? Because the seductive power of the gumbos, crawfish po’ boys and beignets; the plethora of music venues city-wide, and the charm, warmth, and humor of the local folks provide too great an allure for most of us. So, if you ever needed an excuse to cop your New Orleans fix, Jazzfest is as good as any. It’s your perfect "get out of jail free card".

         Jazzfest (officially known as the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, originating in 1970), held annually the last weekend in April and the first weekend in May, takes place at the Fair Grounds Race Course-- a long walk or short trolley or bus ride from most places in the city. Zydeco Roadrunners   

         Picture the venue as a big oval with 11 stages strung along its circumference. Most bands play on open stages while others perform in spacious tents. In the middle of the oval you’ll find scrumptious food, crafts and clothing for sale, as well as the work of visual artists like Terrence Osborne who painted the official poster in 2014 for Jazzfest’s 45th anniversary poster. Richard Thomas & Paul Rappoport You’ll also find my friend Richard Thomas (pictured here)—a painter who first appeared at Jazzfest in 1977 and has been an anchor and teacher in the New Orleans artistic community ever since. Among his many works for Jazzfest, Thomas created the official 20th anniversary poster featuring Fats Domino and more recently has been honoring the life and work of Louis Armstrong with a series of portraits. Thomas’ contributions to the NOLA community by bringing art into the lives of children, prisoners, and the needy remains unparalleled.                                                                                          

         The festival as solely a jazz venue is a misnomer. Although true in its nascent period the event has become far more inclusive. And what often escapes most presumptions about its mission, the music purposefully provides a pathway to the greater cultural Heritage of the area while the heritage inevitably takes you back to the music. This completes the circle…or the oval if you will.

         It gets hot at Jazzfest but a few shade trees at the Fair Grounds provide some shade later in the day. Sometimes it rains--like the first weekend this year--and it's always crowded.  Some spectators come with blankets, others with beach chairs, but most with nothing at all except for large hats and plenty of water.

         Bring no edibles though. You can't take it in and you wouldn't want to anyway given that the myriad food vendors will ply your palates with endless plates of the most exquisite southern dishes money can buy, including jambalaya, gumbos, etoufees, various po' boys, oysters, shrimp, alligator, beignets, pralines, and so on. The “fest” is a feast: a feast of music, culture and food. And if you haven’t had your fill by 7PM when the day is done, Bourbon Street, Frenchman street, and the rest of the Crescent City awaits you. NOLA Nights

         Despite this bounty of bacchanal, however, New Orleans will forever remain defined in part by “Katrina” -- the once in an epoch flood.  For many locals the flood is less a story of a Category 5 Hurricane that devastated the city and more about the levees, canals, and the army core of engineers that failed them. Close to 2,000 people died and over 700 others are still missing. 80% of the city was under water and the damage from the storm is estimated to rise above $150 billion (https://www.dosomething.org/facts/11-facts-about-hurricane-katrina). To this day-- 10 years later-- people are still dying in its aftermath.

         And yet New Orleanians move forward, exhibiting a remarkable dedication and resilience. It’s the incredible comeback story from this once submerged city that inspires others and draws you to it, identifying with its people, relating to their loss, and aspiring to their determination. You feel its pain but also revel in its grit. It’s this New Orleans that you can’t help but acknowledge, applaud and embrace. Along the Esplanade

         Being at Jazzfest means that you transition daily from the “fest” to this remarkable city and back again. You become unmistakably a part of both. Residents experience it the same way. Jazzfest and the City of New Orleans become one.

         This year’s headiners like Elton John, The Who, Tony Bennett & Lady Gaga, No Doubt, Steve Winwood, Chicago, Ed Sheeran, John Legend and others get the attention they deserve, but big names alone do not make Jazzfest. Honestly, the superstars provide great entertainment, but “Jazzfest” is everything else.

          Other than the more two dozen or so big stars, there remain roughly 400 performances by local or lesser known artists—and most no less talented for sure-- including the likes of Reverend John Wilkins, Ruby Wilson from Memphis who channeled Bessie Smith, Young Hunters Mardi Gras Indians, Young Hunters Mardi Gras Indians Leroy Thomas and the Zydeco Roadrunners, Marcia Ball, the Dukes of Dixieland, and hundreds more that grace the fest’s stages. Some names easily roll off your tongue like Jerry Lee Lewis, Allen Toussaint, Dr. John, Preservation Hall Jazz Band, Aaron Neville, and the list goes on.

         Just a single day at the fest can be so exhilarating and even exhausting that you’ll need a break to catch your breath. So you head back, freshen up, go out later in the evening, and maybe look for more music and a few drinks-- or just head to one of the city’s many great restaurants for dinner.

         This year my wife and I avoided the hotel scene and instead rented a small apartment in the Marigny-Bywater section of town, a ten-minute car ride or 20-25 minute walk from the French Quarter. This was a new neighborhood for us and what a gem it was.

         The Marigny-Bywater is a transitional residential neighborhood still working its way back. It’s home to blue collar types, retirees, young professionals, artists, tourists, drinkers, stoners, and colorful characters of all types. It’s here in the Marigny where you can sense the great spunk and spirit of a city that has a lot to say and a lot yet to do. 

         We settled in here amidst the pot-holed and sometimes tree-lined streets. Every block was a new adventure. Turning every corner another surprise. In this direction were art galleries, NOCCA, (the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts) and an upscale restaurant. In another direction a local bar, a few sandwich shops, and a mix of homes: some beautifully rehabbed, others abandoned and still others in various states of repair. Flora's

         Populated by warm and engaging people with a palpable energy that screamed “reinvigoration”, we made friends quickly and got the inside scoop on the area. We shopped at the old Mardi Gras store, now the Mardi Gras Zone 24/7 grocery—funkiest-ever of all groceries with a special mardi gras section upstairs and pizza ovens downstairs. Then we dropped in at Euclid Records on Chartre St. to scout some old vinyls (Ask “Lefty” if he’s got your old gold.) and then crossed over the Piety street bridge to the new Crescent Park for a Mississippi view of the Crescent City at dusk.

         We dined at Feelings Cafe-- seated outside in the delightful backyard garden where the atmosphere and cuisine were superb; breakfasted the next day with cousins Cliff and Chana on Dauphine Street at one of Satsuma’s two “local and organic” coffeehouse cafes and consumed a delicious Asian repast at Doug Crowells’ Bao&Noodle on Chartres Street-- super fresh and tasty and don’t miss it. Dinner at Feelings Cafe

         New Orleans never disappoints. One afternoon on the way back from Frady’s where hot lunches and po’ boys southern style amaze even the locals, we found ourselves cut-off from the Marigny by a freight train on Press Street. We eventually wound our way around the snaking train emerging “on the other side of the tracks” at the corner of Press and Royal streets.

         It was here that we were confronted by a rusting and faded historical marker designating this very spot as the place where, on June 7, 1892, Homer Adolph Plessy was taken off the East Louisiana Railroad and taken into custody by the police. Plessy, a “black” man of mixed race was supposed to sit in the “colored car”.  By brazenly boarding the “white car” Plessy was in violation of the “1890 Louisiana Separate Car Act that separated railroad passengers by race” and was promptly arrested. 

         Near Press and Royal Streets Four years later Plessy lost his case. In 1896, the Supreme Court of the United States, (Plessy v Ferguson) ruled against him, establishing legal precedent whereby laws requiring the separation of the races were deemed constitutional. I read the marker but could not believe my eyes. It was right here, at this very spot, at the intersection of Press and Royal streets in the heart of the revitalization of today’s New Orleans where a profound infamy occurred 119 years ago, altering the course of race relations in America. It took another 60 years for this injustice to be corrected. In 1956, in Brown v Board of Education, the Supreme Court reversed this decision and we were back on the right side of the tracks again.

     Crescent City 'n' Ole Miss.      New Orleans was at one time the center of the slave trade, the largest city in the south, the birthplace of the Creole culture, the home of the Cajun people, the birthplace of Jazz, the childhood home of Louis Armstrong, and yes, the mixing of black and white in what has become one of the friendliest and most welcoming of all American cities.

         To know this you do not need to close your eyes. You have nothing to imagine. You just need to return to the music. The music is where all things coalesce, heritage included. Listen to the lyrics, feel the rhythms, hear the beat of the drums. Pay attention to the ones that went before and follow the legacy. This is the soul of New Orleans. This is the magic of Jazzfest.

copyright Paul Rappoport                                                                                                                                                                                                    

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Additional photos from New Orleans and Jazzfest 

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            Once off the plane at Cancun airport-- having walked the gauntlet of hotel-hawkers and limo drivers-- we tacked left as everyone else veered right. (Not an unusual scenario for us.) They were headed to the beaches for fun in the sun while we hopped a city bus to downtown Cancun.  It was there that we boarded another bus for a first class, four-hour ride with air conditioning, a movie, and a bathroom, to Merida. Did you say Merida?

            The Yucatan peninsula, bounded by the Gulf of Mexico on two sides and the Caribbean Sea on the third-- a somewhat inhospitable lot of land some might say-- is a tropical not-so-paradise.  It is a land of rainforests and jungles, prone to hurricanes 6 months out of the year and characterized by extreme dry and wet seasons. The summers are extremely hot and much of the water there is undrinkable. Oh, and just for effect, remember that asteroid that scientists say wiped out the dinosaurs-- it landed just off the Yucatan coast. One has to wonder what the attraction is.  Merida, where we were headed, is the capital city of the state of Yucatan.

            We arrived at our apartment rental late in the evening greeted by our delightful host who was ready with a welcoming smile and a small repast before bedtime. The neighborhood, in the midst of gentrification, was a mix of newly renovated properties, some still being rehabbed, and others with “For Sale” signs.  Many ex-pats from Canada and the States have settled full-time in Merida while others, as snowbirds, have bought and refinished their properties for winter sojourns.

            Merida is an extremely walkable city.  You can get to anywhere you might want to be within 15-20 minutes by foot. There are also plenty of buses and cabs. Staying on the narrow sidewalks and navigating the crowds in Centro, the primary commercial district, can sometimes be a challenge. But the streets are clean, the city extremely safe, and the cultural venues plentiful.  Museums, galleries, theater, a planetarium, the symphony, movies—all are part of Merida’s city life. We attended a concert given by the Orquesta Sinfonica de Yucatan,

Jose Peon Contreras Theater

visited the Museum Peon Contreras, were in and out of a slew of galleries, and strolled the streets filled with boutiques, flower shops, Mayan crafts and arts, fine dining or casual restaurants, street vendors and more.  Just be aware that one’s potential downfall comes in the form of consuming too many marquesitas, that Yucatecan delicacy that comes in the form of a hot, crispy, tortilla-type pancake filled with either cheese or Nutella-- or for the true gluttons among us, both.

             But Merida is also a city of neighborhoods (called colonias or barrios) adding a local flavor to the city’s overall personality. Since the climate allows for an outdoor lifestyle, the streets are always filled with people and activities.  Local churches anchor each neighborhood and are often associated with a square or plaza which provide venues for people to gather. Whether it’s in the main Plaza Grande in the historic Centro district where we spent an evening watching traditional folk dancing or in the plaza Santa Lucia listening to the Serenada Yucateca, there’s always plenty of entertainment to choose from. Merida offers a plethora of cultural activities almost on a daily basis—and all are free. Just bring a chair, a blanket, or your natural padding, and partake.

Barrio Santiago

            The diversity of neighborhoods is also striking. You can find older residential barrios where attached homes sport rich hues of primary colors or walk along the elegant promenade of the tree-lined Paseo de Montejo, (named after the Montejos; father and son conquistadors who conquered the Mayas and renamed the city Merida after the city in Spain) where you’ll witness the splendor of restored mansions from the 19^th century.

Along the Paseo de Montejo

            Once you leave the city you’ll discover a countryside dotted with small towns and villages-- and depending on the direction you take, either a vast swath of Mayan ruins to the south and east, or the Gulf of Mexico to the north and west. We did both, venturing out on day trips in all directions.

             If your pleasure is the ruins, it’s easy enough to rent a car, hire local vans or small tour buses, or take one of the many full-size public buses which take about an hour and a half or more depending on your particular destination. We spent a day at Chichen Itza (translated as At the Mouth of the Well…), one of the most popular archaeological sites in the area. Chichen Itza dates back to the period between 600-1200 AD.  Be prepared for crowds and vendors galore-- the latter tarnishing in my opinion the profundity of the experience to some degree. But don’t misunderstand, witnessing these pyramids and structures and the history of this amazing civilization moves the soul and the imagination in ways difficult to describe.

Uxmal

            Uxmal (pronounced “ooshmal”) was constructed between 850-1000 AD. It’s architectural style, different from Chichen Itza’s, lends a very different feel to the experience.  After time spent walking the grounds here and experiencing the calm and contemplative sensibility of the site, it is difficult upon leaving to not feel spiritually altered in some way.

            Because Merida is geographically situated at the center of this region, it is possible to have it all. You can gratify your city self in town, your intellectual and spiritual needs at the ruins, and your desire for leisure and nature on the Gulf.  We spent a day at Progresso, a less than ideal beach setting given its commercialization and at times touristy crowds-- especially compared to the beautiful beaches on the Caribbean coast-- but nonetheless adequate enough to fulfill one’s draw to sand, sun and waves.

            Celestun on the other hand, a local fishing village to the west and home to natural wetlands and the Celestun Biosphere Reserve, puts you right at the mouth of the estuaries. Take a boat ride through the mangroves and settle-in for a while with the flamingos, pelicans, herons, sea turtles and varied wildlife. The beach is expansive, the fresh seafood at beach-side restaurants inviting, and the quaint town replete with local color.

Flamingo Colony, Celestun

            By the time two weeks were up our speculation had been answered and our expectations exceeded.  Every day was a new adventure and we had only had a taste.  One of the signs that you have made a discovery is the desire to return.  Although there are many other enticing destinations in the world , Merida and the Yucatan are still on the list.

copyright Paul Rappoport

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Photos from the Yucatan

can be viewed here in the Travel gallery:  http://www.prappphotos.com/p198820034#h412919e5