License vs. licentious. There is a fine line between the two, and New Orleans tends to cross that line because it has an unmatched sense of freedom drawn from its history of always pushing the envelope. I mean, we’re talking about a place that once regulated prostitution in its infamous Storyville. Now, the city is known for its avant-garde parties with music bursting out of the speakers, people spilling out of bars onto the streets, and drinks overflowing from cups. I knew most of this, and yet the true, debauched nature of New Orleans did not hit me until we found ourselves in a precarious situation on our first night in the city, one that involved a large group of men, fighting, the police, and an IHOP. Luckily, our group made it out unscathed, but it was eye-opening. In the aftermath, I remember telling my fellow bookpackers that I was almost thankful we had such a treacherous experience so early on in our trip because it drew us out of our naivete. We realized the warnings we had received from family and friends prior to this trip about roofied drinks, human trafficking, and increasing crime rates were not empty. It set the tone for the rest of our time in New Orleans as we became more aware of our surroundings, never ventured out alone, and watched out for each other.
While we quickly recognized the dangers lurking among the streets of New Orleans, I think many who come to this city are still blind to it. And that’s part of the reason New Orleans has been able to grow into what it is today, a place perfect for hiding monsters and roaming spirits. It also sets New Orleans, specifically the French Quarter, up to be the perfect setting for Anne Rice’s Interview with a Vampire. When we visited the French Quarter, there was both a sense of awe and eeriness. The buildings are so beautifully constructed with gorgeous galleries that span the streets and intricate railings, and they’re all painted in bright, bursting colors. It is a truly magnificent view. At the same time, you can see gothic elements in the architecture, and the city’s long history practically bleeds out of the buildings with some of the walls decaying from age and the tropical climate, and vines bursting out of cracks. The first time I saw the French Quarter, I thought Disneyland can try to replicate it as much as they want to, but there’s truly nothing exactly like the French Quarter in its uniqueness and essence.
“This was New Orleans, a magical and magnificent place to live... A city in which a vampire might be gone before the words had even passed the lips, seeking out the alleys in which he could see like a cat, the darkened bars in which sailors slept with their heads on the table”
Between the hustle and bustle of New Orleans and the darkness described by Anne Rice, it is not a surprise that vampires were able to walk among mortals without being caught, hiding behind corners, and rushing through the night snatching up unsuspecting victims. In the debate of license vs. licentious in the city, Louis represents license while Lestat is symbolic of licentiousness. Both men have supernatural abilities that provide them with a sense of freedom and agency to move slightly out of society’s rules. Louis struggles greatly with this, not wanting to take too much advantage of his power and opting to feed on animals instead of human beings. On the other hand, Lestat takes his license a step too far into licentiousness as he plays with his food, seducing women and befriending men in the moments leading up to the deadly bite he imparts upon them. He finds joy in the act of killing.
“Lestat was laughing, telling me callously that I would feel so different once I was a vampire that I would laugh, too. He was wrong about that. I never laugh at death, no matter how often and regularly I am the cause of it.”
Another facet that you see in both Interview with a Vampire and the city of New Orleans is a struggle between religion and spiritualism. The city is home to some iconic places of worship like the St. Louis Cathedral, but it also the center of voodoo culture. We truly got a sense for this in the New Orleans Historic Voodoo Museum. Even Marie Laveau, the voodoo queen, was believed to have a connection to Catholicism.
“God did not live in this church; these statues gave an image to nothingness. I was the supernatural in this cathedral. I was the only supermortal thing that stood conscious under this roof!”
Personally, walking through the Voodoo Museum was a remarkable experience for me as someone who believes in a lot of similar ideals and practices. There was an entire wall dedicated to some of voodoo’s greatest ancestors that reminded me of the areas in my own home dedicated to those who have passed. I thought a lot about how instead of always praying to Buddha or God, I actually pray a lot more to my grandmother. I feel a more profound connection to her than I do to some divine being that I might never know or meet, and I feel a deep sense of protection from keeping her in my heart and mind. That’s not to say that I don’t believe in a larger force out there. As a firm believer in “everything happens for a reason”, I do think someone or something God-like plays a role in our lives. I have never felt more comfortable in my beliefs than in the city of New Orleans because that push and pull between religion and spiritualism is so prevalent in its history and current-day culture.
As I look forward to the rest of our trip, I hope I will be able to encounter more people who are enveloped in the voodoo culture, maybe even an actual voodoo king or queen. Every voodoo store we’ve visited has felt so commercial and inauthentic. The museum was an immersive experience, but there’s still so much I want to know, and the best way to learn more is through primary sources. Throughout this trip, I have learned the importance of talking to the people in the communities we explore if we want to fully grasp and understand everything that this city stands for. We might be studying it, but they’re living it. New Orleans has such a complex culture with French, Spanish, and American influences. It is home to the oldest African American neighborhood in America, the Tremé. And while history books might try to grasp the nuances of this great city, I don’t think they will ever pinpoint its exceptionalism the way native New Orleanians can.