In New Orleans, Anxiously Watching the Levees As Hurricane Ida Arrives

 The possibility of "another Katrina" has frequented New Orleans, and the remainder of the country.

 



NEW ORLEANS — As Hurricane Ida started savagely tearing through South Louisiana on Sunday, Kelli Chandler was stayed in an austere office, hanging tight and looking for the response to an inquiry that all of New Orleans was inquiring: Would the levees — the more up to date, more grounded, more modern levees — keep down the tempest? 


Ms. Chandler, an authority in the operational hub of the rambling $20 billion tempest safeguard framework that was overhauled after the hopelessness of Hurricane Katrina, went through hours handling messages, calls, and messages from a snare of authorities and offices that were keeping their eyes on the new framework. 



.For occupants like Erica Smith, the new tempest insurances offered little affirmation. Ms. Smith, 38, had endure Katrina, in any case, she said, scarcely. She had no expectation of living through this tempest at her home in rural Metairie. So she had come downtown, looking for the security of a major lodging. Sunday morning, nonetheless, she needed to move starting with one lodging then onto the next. She groveled in the bend of a midtown building, thinking about the nerve racking nine-block walk. The breeze cried down Carondelet Street. 


"It's horrendous," she said. "This could be another Katrina." 


The possibility of that — "another Katrina" — has frequented New Orleans, and the remainder of the country, since the horrible flooding of 2005 and the messed up government reaction that followed. Furthermore, Ida, which made landfall Sunday only south of New Orleans, appeared to be a genuine competitor, with winds that arrived at 150 miles each hour, and a direction that seemed, by all accounts, to be going only west of New Orleans. 


Yet, all tempests are unique, and the broad interest in a changed tempest security framework offered trust. It could appear, on Sunday, similar to cynicism and hopefulness were battling it out like impacting climate frameworks. 


In the Algiers Point area, straightforwardly across the Mississippi River from the French Quarter, windows shook and tree appendages were sent thrashing. Steely dark skies were scarcely apparent through the stretch of oak trees lining Opelousas Avenue. Some local roads were tossed with leaves and broken branches. By Sunday night, power was out in New Orleans.



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