After leaving Panama City, I finally arrived in New Orleans. I picked up my love at the airport and we settled in at the Renaissance Marriott across from Bourbon Street. The room was small, in the way that old hotels are. The city of New Orleans was enchanting. Mornings on Bourbon Street reeked of muddied gutter water and the remnants of the night before. By the afternoon, the cleanup crew had drudged through the streets, clearing way for another night of wild shenanigans.

The French Quarter romanced us as we walked hand-in-hand exploring. In December the weather was perfect. The streets twirled us around in a waltz of old world introductions.

New Orleans touched my heart in a singularly impressive way that it is hard for me to put it into words. The genuine Southern charm knocked my lover and I off our feet. We found ourselves day-dreaming about summer homes and days filled with traditional pots of boiling jambalaya or gumbo... perhaps, we'd even attempt homemade beignets.

What touched me most about the people in this city was their unwavering commitment and love of New Orleans.

You could tell in their stories they had endured an unmentionable tragedy. However, despite the devastation of Katrina, the city held its head high inviting us and anyone who visits to sit at the family table.

I don't think I could ever tire of its generosity and optimism.