Everything
just as it is,
as it is,
as is.
Flowers in bloom.
Nothing to add.

- Robert Aitken, Roshi, “As it is”

To see the difference between New York City and New Orleans one only needs to look to the sidewalk. In NYC the pace is rigorous, ruthless even. I stopped to help a couple of women who asked for some help with a parking meter; the man behind me — who I never saw — said, “Jesus Christ, keep moving.”

After spending six days in that city, my legs have been worn out from walking. You turn on to Fifth Avenue, and it is like being caught in a river. You better keep up with the New York walkers or you will be sunk. You certainly don’t wait at corners for the light to turn your way. There is no pause: this river flows fast. At each corner, you walk into the street, waiting for the moment when you can pass between cars, in front of cars. The drivers will warn you with a loud honk when they are bearing down on you.

In New Orleans, especially in the French Quarter, the walk is slow, even sometimes to a stop. We admire our architecture, our balconies, even if we live here. Tourists, of course, will stop in the middle of a sidewalk, taking their time in framing a picture. Most locals will wait patiently as someone poses on the corner across the street.

New Yorkers seem to be in a frantic state of always getting somewhere — a frenetic state.

New Orleanians rarely seem compelled to get somewhere. I suppose this could be put negatively. One friend who had visited a few times came to the conclusion that New Orleans is where ambitions come to die. I would say, rather, that it is the place where end results take a back seat to a more appreciative pace. Life is better in New Orleans.

I know it is different downtown, where people do need to get to work. The pace also changes, of course, when people are forced to rebuild their homes or to move out of their trailers. But ideally, New Orleanians want to walk in a way that takes in life. We seem to like it here.

In New York, I wanted to look up at the Rockefeller Building. Yes, perhaps I wanted to gawk like a tourist. To do so I had to step to the side, protecting myself with a corner of a building, so as not to be swept away by the relentless rush of the sidewalk. That would never happen in New Orleans. We pause, and enjoy.

Behind the cut, a classic song that compares the pace of nature to the pace of life — a song that captures the flow of our city.