I wanted to do something special for my daughter. She turned 16. The whole sweet thing just did not come together, so I thought a little get away, mother-daughter bonding time in a different location should be a good option. I had wanted to go to New Orleans for a long time. After Katrina, I felt that I had missed out on the opportunity to know this place. So there we go. A little research on the Net and we booked a few days at the renaissance Marriott, between the French quarter and the warehouse district.

This city is alive with hope and energy. The French quarter burst with restaurants, live music, and adult entertainment. Just walking around, we could hear the sounds of live brass instruments, local musicians jamming in the streets, gathering crowds of locals and tourist alike. The liveliest one was this band of young man just out of high school, about 10 of them with an incredible sound and energy. People spontaneously danced around, as CD's were being distributed for a well spend $10.

We wanted to see the left over of the ravage of Katrina. For choice transportation throughout the city, we rented a bright blue scooter; this was the best choice we could have made. My daughter Nastassia was quite skeptical to start with but as soon as she got to be the driver, she loved it. I have been trying to convince her since to give up wanting to buy a car and go for a scooter but she is not going for it. Anyway, we got directions to go to the 9th ward district with instructions to turn around quickly once we were over the bridge exiting Atwater. The photo ops were too many. This is when I switched seat with Nastassia so she could drive and I do my photographer version of drive by shooting. Against the well intended advises I got, we went in, pulled over and talked to locals. Everyone we saw in the very devastated neighborhood was black, no real surprise there. Street after street we could see houses destroyed, abandoned, playgrounds covered with outgrown weeds, people feeling like they had been forgotten. We chatted with this man, shaved head, sporting a wife beater and black loafers, sweating profusely in the intense humidity of the day. The place he stood by used to shelter recovered addicts; it had not been touched since Katrina. Inside we could see a few broken chairs, rags, empty bottles.

Driving around, some houses were totally gone, left behind was nothing but the foundation. And also we saw men on their roofs, in their porches, nailing down 2x4, setting up new windows. Progress is slow but not to be denied. Still riding around even in the nicer, upper working class neighborhood, some houses were fully remodeled, others, beautiful Victorian or colonial style, who could have harvested a small fortune in my Californian neighborhood was left behind.

The ride to the lake gave us a different view: the most upscale neighborhood, wide streets, we passed by a few mansions with immaculate landscaping?.wonder if Angelina and brad were occupying one of these.

The bayou looked so peaceful and serene. We would have stopped but after the intense heat of the day, a storm was menacing. It had been announced, lightning and thunder were being part of the moment, night was approaching, and we kept going.

What says New Orleans like the swamp? We got on a tour. About 15 people joined. Our guide announced it was the most he had had in a couple of years. We glided over the water, shirts sticking on our back. We got to feed raw chicken and marshmallows to the alligators. Seemed they like the color white. Our guide kept calling ?come on baby ?and even tried to kiss one of them. At some point 7 of those friendly babies were jumping up to get their lunches, a few sizable ones. We got to kiss and hold one ourselves, a 15 inches baby that was on the boat with us, compliment of our host. To close the circle of life, we dined that evening on blackened alligator. The sauce was delicious and the meat quite chewy.

We had to stop at the legendary caf? du monde, for some tasty warm beignets drowned in powder sugar. Street performers were doing their round in front of the caf?. We just missed a trio that sounded good for their last few minutes we got to hear. We got treated by some talent lacking homeless guy, oh well.

Masquerades, parades, street festival. It would not have been complete without us being educated about voodoos. Yes indeed, a stop at the voodoo museum was de rigueur. A silvered haired bespectacled man lectured about Marie Laveau's supernatural and healing powers as we visited the 2 bedroom museum. We learned that West African mixes with Catholic faith to create that belief. Paintings, dolls, bones and altars filled the rooms. People leave coins, jewelry, pictures. Some of this had a fascinating power. We bought some gris-gris bags.

That was four well filled days. Nastassia was so tired. We rested back at home. Vacations are time to go-go-go.

Being a professional photographer, I took lots of fantastic photographs and created permanent memories for the both of us to treasure.