Nothing can imitate the place where soulful jazz makes feet move on their own, the cuisine makes it feel like a virtue to be gluttonous, or the natives give the feeling that they have known a stranger for a lifetime. A world and culture all of its own, New Orleans. An amusement waits around every cobblestoned corner, from a shoeshine, or magician, to the sounds of zydeco music that permeates the soul. The variety of architecturally magnificent Greek Revival mansions with wrought iron fences dotting the Garden District, to the bands of friends on front porches trying to beat the heat in the Ninth Ward. A city like this makes one think it is invincible, but in late August of 2005 Hurricane Katrina penetrated all feelings of invincibility of the states on the Gulf Coast, with New Orleans as the face of the disaster. This city gave me an experience of a lifetime, so it only seemed cordial to give back something in return.

At seventeen years old I knew exactly what I wanted to be doing during my spring break in New Orleans. For the past few years I had been dying to put a hammer to a nail into a much needed home for a family victim to hurricane Katrina. An insuppressible desire to help others came from previous volunteering at my local pet shelter and senior living home. I had felt a tangible impact simply from my presence. Seeing happier puppies or hearing the tales of an elder engrossed me in a feeling of self-worth.

It did not take me long to plan our second trip. “I want to build,” I told my mom. “Build what?” she said puzzled wondering what could possibly be next. “A house for a family,” and we did just that in the Ninth Ward. I cannot express the excitement I felt when I had a jigsaw in my hand making the windowsills for the whole house and the locals were showering us with thanks. I will never forget hearing in the far distance zydeco music being played, not having heard it before someone saying, “Honey, you know that upbeat music wants to make you build faster, welcome to New Orleans.” I vividly remember looking around overwhelmed to see empty lots or watermarks high above my head. The natives witnessed the destruction of their city leaving it vulnerable and barred for all to see. I witnessed, however, the courage and perseverance by the natives gracefully piecing it back together alongside strangers.

New Orleans impacted me two life changing ways, the exposure to a completely new culture, and a greater revelation of a sense of purpose in helping others. I now know that I want to dedicate my life to the aid of others, abroad and local, as a humanitarian aid relief worker by studying international cultures and relations. I simply want my life philosophy to be about planting trees under whose shade I do not expect to sit. My mother jokes around that after college I’m just going to volunteer my whole life and live in nothing better than hut among elephants and strangers in need. Quite honestly, I love the way that sounds.

When one is young, it is hard to see the bad in the world, tragedy, crime, pain and suffering. Hurricane Katrina occurred just as I was coming to know the other side of the world and it sure was a complete revelation. Even now it is hard to fathom that before the hurricane almost five hundred thousand people called New Orleans home but then months after only about two hundred twenty thousand did. No one could have truly prepared for this mentally, and physically I personally feel that New Orleans was especially failed when a shabby levee was built expecting to hold back potential flood waters. Sometimes for people to really get a clue, including myself, about the reality of tragedy, one has to happen. I saw on the television people sitting on their rooftops, I read in newspapers the statistics of all that had been lost, and I heard the stories of the people firsthand who were brave enough to return and rebuild their future in their “always has been” home. This made me see the world differently because there is absolutely no forgetting it, sweeping it under the rug, or leaving others to deal with the problems. They needed help, they need it still now, and it made me think about the millions of people in even worse conditions that I know I am fated to help in the future.

Cleary there is something to be said about a city that is sautéed in history, where it is encouraged to play in the streets and funerals are practically parades. If my life could embody the personality of a city, unique, jubilant, carefree, and most importantly persevering, it most evidently would be New Orleans. Sometimes when I am at home daydreaming, I imagine the next time when I am standing under the soft light of a French Quarter lantern listening to a lone trumpeter play in the distance, tired from a long day of building, and I can quietly say, “So ends another perfectly unique day in New Orleans.”