Coming Home - A Return to NOLA

There was something rather surreal about coming home to a place that I had first visited as a tourist only a year beforehand. I still vividly remember gawping on the Pontchartrain Causeway as NOLA's skyline gently reared herself through the thick, hazy shawl of late summer heat. In truth, the skyline is one of the least distinctive aspects of the city. If you want an exhilarating skyline you can sod off to New York.

Only when you leave the interstate does this city really begin to work her quick magic on you. Only a heathen couldn't be captivated by her kaleidoscope of pastel colours, palm lined streets, warm hearted, welcoming locals and her bewildering array of festivals and ancient (by American standards at least) traditions.

It's a city blessed with a poetic, irresistible beauty and, like many before me, I was instantly smitten. Anyone with half a soul can't help but fall a little in love with it. 'I think I would quite like to move here', was the first thing that I said when my good friend Tommy came to meet me at a bar on Magazine st. In truth, I didn't really have a great deal of conviction behind those words. I'd been drinking for some time and was quite well lubricated by then. Moving here was still far too big a dream to really wrap my head around. If you'd told me that exactly a year to the day after first coming here, I would be landing at the airport as a happily settled resident, I would have politely told you to stop tooting your crack pipe.

I don't normally like to talk about my fears and concerns and often people ask me if I'm actually capable of them. Of course I am. I just don't like to let them on much. I confess that completely altering the course and location of my life is one of the most daunting and terrifying things I will ever do. Especially on my own. But the rewards can be ample if you really follow your gut and the courage of your convictions.

However it still causes me great sadness to know that I won't be able to attend all the weddings, stag (bachelor) and hen (-ette) parties, birthdays and so forth for some of my closest friends and family members. Or that I will only get time to see some of them maybe once or twice a year at best. But this was something that I had to accept as a worthwhile sacrifice for the life I've chosen to live.

One thing had been surprising was that spending time in London didn't make me regret my decision to leave the city behind. This seems completely insane on reflection. To put it mildly, London has rather a lot to offer. Even though most Londoners would dispute this, London does have a world class transport system and roads that don't swallow unsuspecting cyclists with reckless abandon. It's also very safe. I'm approximately eleven times less likely to be murdered in London that New Orleans. It's full of some of the most arresting and gorgeous parks on earth (for 1/3 of the year), with exceedingly beautiful and varied countryside to boot. Culturally you'd be hard pressed to find a greater density of art, antiquities, music and dance.

NOLA's real magic trick is that it makes you take an absence of reason. You simply don't find many cities that have such a power over people's imaginations. Tragedy never seems far away from that magic though, yet it only seems to deepen its mystique for many. The more time I spend here the more my love grows for it, especially for the wonderful people who also call it home. I'm constantly thrilled by her art, music performances or just a small, delightful little moment. It often feels like the purest expression of the human soul here. For better and worse.

Despite moving to a new house, my return promised to be more of a homecoming than another start from scratch. During my previous six months here, I had worked hard to carefully lay the foundations for the kind of long-term life that I was seeking. The next chapter would be an attempt to build on them and create a sustainable, successful business and ultimately to decide whether this was the place where I really wanted to put down thicker, deeper roots.

My consultancy work for Propeller was waiting for me when I got back as their latest accelerator program was starting. This was a far cry from my arrival in January when I had no guarantee of any employment whatsoever. It was a novel experience to come back to colleagues and work you genuinely love. I was certainly given a warmer greeting back than at any of my previous teams at Barclays. Which may speak more for to how visibly fond I was about the working culture there, than the friendliness of their employees.

My financial literacy coaching business 'Flyte' is still in the very early stages of client acquisition and it's probably the most uncertain and exciting prong of my endeavours here. 80% of adults in the city are classed as financially illiterate. That means that compound interest, inflation and investments are completely alien concepts to them. Many don't even have a bank account. Getting even a small reduction in this statistic will be an uphill struggle. This is a city that can often be fiercely resistant to change. But I believe that it will change, especially once employers see the benefits that a financially literate workforce can bring. Either way, it is going to be my greatest test of resolve to date.

Despite some relative early success in settling here, I have occasionally wondered whether it was a mistake. Giving up a fairly stable and potentially lucrative career in a place where I had built a full and happy life would seem almost insane to many, including me at times. But as I said, this place obfuscates reason. It also has more than just a bad habit of spitting a crumpled husk of a person out at the other end. Often drawn in like foolish sailors to the Sirens with their dainty figures and enchanting music.

The danger of this place is in the endless opportunity to indulge your vices, without giving many the chance to give back through work. Life needs a balance of the two. I have to thank pedicabbing for keeping me on an even keel before my work with Propeller began, and even after it. The most lucrative shifts are when people are out enjoying themselves on weekends so I get the pleasure of watching other people get completely shitbagged for once. It also reminds you just how hard it is for the vast majority of people to earn an honest living in this world. Peddling obese people around in 95% humidity can be somewhat testing at times.

At the end of the day you are still getting paid quite well to pedal people around in a giant tricycle, which is kind of awesome. I was also lucky to be returning to great friends there too. Pedicabbers are some of the most interesting, learned, humourous and fun people I've ever worked with. It made slipping back into the job like putting on your favourite pair of old trainers (sneakers).

In just four days of rather sweaty work I managed to earn enough to cover a month's rent, utilities and have some spare change for a Saturday night out. Most young people in London, San Francisco or New York take more than two weeks to earn enough to cover those costs and usually for a place the size of a fag pack (cigarette box). Not a large, beautiful historic home five minutes from the city centre. This seemed like a completely false economy to me and was one of the many reasons I remind myself that moving here may well have been a good idea.

I never cease to be delighted by the skies here

One of the bonuses of living in NOLA is also that the city essentially goes into hibernation between July and early Sept. Just when Europe is ready to get the Speedos out. The scorching heat here means that anyone who can leave, does leave. Tourists don't really visit and many businesses reduce their hours. I've been told I should continue to avoid it if I still want to love the city. And I certainly shall, as it's an excellent time to catch up with loved ones across the pond.

It was reassuring to see that the potholes on my commute were still there, albeit a little bit wider and deeper. The roadworks on Bourbon were still moving slower than most continents. And the new airport terminal (opening Spring 2018) looked more like the empty frame from a wedding marquee. I had been gone over two months but it really could have been two days. Even the weather was the same. In three weeks of being back it's been over 30 degrees C (80s in F) and sunny almost every day. Something that would have induced a mass hysteria back in England.

In London, skyscrapers were popping up like daisies and the roads were as smooth as a Sultan's bed linens. Yet, for all its wealth of virtues, London just doesn't have the secret sauce that we have here. It never will. It's a different world and exists in a different time. I always say to friends at home that NOLA feels like Never Never Land. A sanctuary for lost and found adults who steadfastly refuse to believe that life is about working excessive hours, suburban one-upmanship and corner offices. It's a place where you truly get to experience all the riches that life has to offer, without spending much to get them. For all its faults, I couldn't be prouder or happier to call it my home.