Samantha Liu

Through the Eyes of a Vampire

91 degrees. 70% Humidity. Endless walking. Drenched in my own sweat. Doing everything to escape the heat. 

Why would THIS city be a vampire’s dream?

Anne Rice, a New Orleans native, chose to set her hit novel Interview with The Vampire in this vibrant city in the early 19th century. The gothic story follows Louis Pointe du Lac, the protagonist, through his journey of vampirism. Louis escapes to New Orleans with Lestat after their identity is revealed at the Pointe du Lac plantation. The city becomes their long-lasting home, where they house their ‘daughter’ Claudia and live as a family for around 65 years. We, the readers, gained insight into their safe haven wandering these streets. The ‘family’ resided in a home with a beautiful gallery, a prominent structure that we pass by daily. While Lestat chose NOLA for its practical advantages, Louis developed an emotional bond with the place he called home. So, I ask myself again, why choose New Orleans? 

This question echoed in my mind as I stepped foot into the smothering heat. I constantly found myself in a pool of my own sweat, seeking any form of air conditioning during our walks that seemed to last an eternity. This, most definitely, was not the breezy Grand Isle we had spent the last few days in. Yet, I find myself completely enamored with this city. The first night, our cohort journeyed down to the French Quarter for our first indulgence with jambalaya and gumbo. We walked aimlessly through the town for hours, witnessing the lively community present in the Quarter. From street marching bands, to perpetual jazz, to the sultry air thick with secrets, the Crescent City dances to a timeless rhythm. This singular night shifted my entire perspective: New Orleans is where a vampire’s soul is most alive. 

The city embodies the very essence of eternalness. It is a timeless city – surviving hurricanes, fires, and wars, refusing to fade into history. It births a breeding ground for the coexistence of past and present tales, catering to creatures who live for an eternity. Living in the shadows of a sleepless city, vampires are not subjected to survival, they are capable of fully indulging in the intoxicating forces that make New Orleans. As expressed in our seminars: it is a city of vices. It invites anything and everything. There is no doubt that this fulfills a vampire’s innermost desires. Similar to Louis, I find myself forever tethered to this high-spirited culture. 

There was no city in America like New Orleans… a magical and magnificent place to live. In which a vampire, richly dresses and gracefully walking through the pools of light of one gas lamp after another might attract no more notice in the evening than hundreds of other exotic creatures
— Anne Rice, Interview with the Vampire

Centuries later, I am interacting with these very streets, and living in the magic described by Louis in the early 19th century. The second night there we wandered into Bourbon Street, infamous for its constant inebriated visitors and wild revelry. Immediately we encountered jumbo, multi-flavored daiquiris and glittering beads! It was disappointing being the only 21 year old in our group ;). The moments spent on Bourbon reflected the ageless nature of New Orleans; a magnificent location filled with an air of flamboyancy from decades prior. It became clear how easily a vampire could move through these streets at night. 

However, it is not just the celebrations that linger through these streets. A grotesque history continues to prevail beneath these overflowing crowds. There is no hiding the scarred history of deep racism that the city wears. The very buildings we brisk by daily hold more memories than we can imagine. During our Ghost Tour of the French Quarter, our guide took us past Madame Lalaurie’s mansion. Through the various fictional stories relayed through the night, this one was horrifyingly real. This story is stained in my brain for years to come. Known for her cruel, torturous behavior towards countless enslaved people, Madame Lalaurie is a remembrance of the pain embedded in the city’ past. Her home still stands strongly on Royal Street, a haunting reminder that New Orleans is not just the beauty that meets our eyes. 

The very streets thousands of tourists step across today carry the bones of forgotten people below its surface. There are no named graves for these enslaved people. Their blood, sweat, and tears have built the very physical and metaphorical foundation of New Orleans. Our group walked through the Business District, witnessing buildings that used to be slave pens. There is no ignoring the truth that confronts us. Thus, the Crescent City cannot be fully understood, or truly loved, without truly acknowledging this history. Its attractiveness is inseparable from its suffering, and its spirit is shaped as much by resistance as by its festivities. 

My experience in New Orleans thus far has illustrated the answers to my question. New Orleans is the perfect setting for all types of creatures, vampires included. I share Louis’ deep affection for the seductiveness of New Orleans, yet it is impossible to to escape the darker truths that Anne Rice mindlessly overlooks. In her novel, Rice depicts vampires in their murderous form, especially towards enslaved people. She encapsulated the visual beauty of New Orleans while simultaneously neglecting the city’s development through racial oppression. Similar to Louis, I feel unbelievably drawn to the chaotic nature and vibrancy that the city brings. I will live my life in search of a place that matches this energy. In contrast, I carry the truths of NOLA’s painful past. Its enchantment and charm is undeniable, but so is the history that shaped it. Everything in New Orleans is eternal – from past to present.

The Smoothie King Awakening

After landing at the Louis Armstrong Airport, Thalia and I swiftly exited the plane for the entirety of it was plagued by nauseating turbulence. We had three hours to fill before heading down to Grand Isle. I immediately locked eyes with the enticing Smoothie King logo when entering the terminal. As a California native, I just had to have my first-ever Smoothie King experience. This, I concluded, would be the cure to our queasy journey. After consulting Thalia, I ordered a medium Angel Food smoothie. The sweetness of the icy drink melted onto my tongue, unraveling the best drink ever. Realization quickly settled in after I took my final sip: I was in Louisiana. Founded in Kenner, Louisiana in 1973, Smoothie King unexpectedly became my first taste of the state’s rich culture and history.

Not even a full week into our month-long experience, and a deep sense of camaraderie has descended upon our eight person group. From home-cooked, family style meals to group sunset swims, a tight-knit community cultivated in Grand Isle from simply existing together. Small talk about the exhausting heat and potential thunderstorms transformed into enlightening discussions over Hawaiian culture, familial relations, and personal dilemmas. Unfiltered and inappropriate conservations flowed past midnight. I initiated communal dinners by cooking meals every night with Nicole, and by no means, do I consider myself a chef. It is safe to say that we quickly adopted the openness of Creole culture that encapsulates their group identity, as depicted by Edna Pontellier. 

A characteristic which distinguished them and which impressed Mrs. Pontellier most forcibly was their entire absence of prudery. Their freedom of expression was at first incomprehensible to her, though she had no difficulty in reconciling it with a lofty chastity which in the Creole woman seems to be inborn and unmistakable.
— Kate Chopin, The Awakening

Edna’s immersion into the Creole identity was vastly different from her Kentucky norms. This behavior, in a way, influenced her rash decisions to fulfill her innermost desire: independence. Encountering expressive personas, like Adele and Robert, allowed her to view her identity in a new manner. Existing in the freeing nature of Grand Isle fostered the beginning of her personal enlightenment. Learning to swim in the alluring ocean was Edna’s first discovery of autonomy, relieving herself from the torment of the feminine prison. Similarly, our Maymester group embraced our own version of independence. Alone, we gained the free will to participate in sunset swims, in the same waters as Edna, in an attempt to regain ourselves from the suffocating finals environment back at USC. The ocean was warm to the touch, urging me to swim further out and rejoin my friends. Being able to mimic the characters in our texts is an experience comparable to none. This remains my favorite memory from our days spent in Grand Isle.

The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation. The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace.
— Kate Chopin, The Awakening

The lifestyle on the Isle heavily contradicts the bustling, fast-paced environment in Los Angeles. Our days consisted of engaging in a routine parallel to those in The Awakening by Kate Chopin. From speeding golf carts and the warmth of southern hospitality, to reading on the beach under the scorching sun. The population on Grand Isle is just short of 1,000, thus laboring close relationships amongst the Island. This community has bravely and repeatedly endured natural disasters through passion for their shared identity. Our group caught glimpses of these relationships via food: a bonding practice rooted in Creole culture. I do not consider myself an adventurous eater, yet 24 hours in the Isle, I was consuming fried alligator nuggets and venison tamales from ‘The Starfish’. This restaurant is one of few that inhabit the surrounding land. Our waitress, Tiffany, welcomed our tourism with open arms and drew us in with her endearing personality. We all ordered an assortment of items, with each bite bringing us closer to the long-standing history of Grand Isle. 


I am a creature of habit. Leaving California for a whole month led to thousands of worries. Much like Edna Pontellier, I long anticipated Grand Isle for the uncertainty of my individual growth. Her days spent on the island unleashed a dormant longing for self-expression under oppression. Although my experience differs from Edna and Kate Chopin, I realized that I often suppress myself for the desire of constant control and repetition. Being in Grand Isle started to strip these layers away. The immediate calmness of our surroundings forced feelings of comfortability. While Edna’s path ultimately led to her demise in the ocean in a final act of self-determination, I leave with an alternative journey of personal discovery. I depart with an awakened sense of living deliberately so as to not allow my fears dictate my decisions.