New Orleans. Someone’s blowing a trumpet on one corner, someone’s building a mystery space machine on the other, and across the street by a boarded-up building someone’s painting their shotgun house pink and green. NOLA lets you be you. Everyone says hello like you’re old friends, even if you just showed up. The Marigny and Bywater feel like they were drawn by a five-year-old, in the very best way. Sit on your porch for an hour and you’ll make five new friends and hug the neighborhood cat. Mr. Okra drives by in his fruit truck and we run. A girl on a bike staples a flyer to a pole. I buy my wine at the same place my neighbor is doing his laundry. Friends walk three blocks to get home. A neighborhood association board member shows me a scrap book of every new tree planted. Ask people why they live here and they get emotional. It’s good to be here.