That's one way to look at what happened in New Orleans last summer. There was an invasion of sorts ‹ a highly successful and productive undertaking ‹ staged by members of the American Library Association and their colleagues who came from all over the country to take part in the annual ALA convention.

Librarians are not easily intimidated, not even by the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.

Neither, it seems, are authors, publishers, editors, library board members and book exhibitors who came to New Orleans.

"Every time they sent a notice out, I said, ŚYes! Yes! Yes!' I'm so glad it's (the convention is) here," said a book exhibitor from Palo Alto, CA. While other conventions were pulling out of the Big Easy, fearful that the city might not be ready, the library convention took place as scheduled.

Some 18,000 attendees went to their meetings and programs, ate and drank in the city's famed restaurants and also managed to take a good look at the city.

My husband, a library director for 30 years in Wilmette (now a library consultant), and I resolved early on to go to the conference in New Orleans.

In addition to participating in conference activities, we wanted to support the city's economy and see for ourselves how it was doing, especially the French Quarter, where we always spend much of our time.

The Quarter, we knew, pretty much survived the wind damage from Hurricane Katrina and was on high enough ground to avoid the flooding that devastated other parts of the city.

But here and there in the Quarter, building inspection reports were posted with a list of repairs that still needed to be made. Our hotel, the Royal Sonesta, was as beautiful as ever. The air conditioning was great, and staff was accommodating.

The only disappointment was the hotel restaurant, in which we ate several times. The food was wonderful, but the service seemed exceedingly slow.

However, the pianist soothed and charmed us in the intervals between courses, with his renditions of "Summertime," "Old Man River" and other classics.

Bayona, one of our old favorite restaurants, also is in the Quarter. Service was slow there, too.

"This is the first time it's been this full since we re-opened last November," the wine steward told us.

At Emeril's in the Warehouse District, the place was hopping with librarians and other out-of-towners. Service seemed better here. By the time we got around to eating at the Original Coffee Pot Restaurant back in the Quarter, we learned that there was a shortage of waiters.

Most waiters don't earn enough to pay the Quarter's high rents. And to commute from farther away, if there is an affordable rental, is expensive and time-consuming.

One disappointment was the fact that several small cafes where we had lingered in the past over books and lattes, were closed. Then we ran into 12-year-old Peter Moss, who, on Saturday morning, delivers beignets and breakfasts and tidies up the tables at Cafe Beignet.

Several of the visiting librarians enjoying their pastries were also admiring a cat that wandered among the tables.

"It's not my cat," Peter said. "We have it to scare away the pigeons." Both the cat ‹ and Peter ‹ seemed to be doing a good job. One thing hasn't changed in the Quarter. Bourbon Street is still full of loud music and high spirits. In the bars, percussion is so amped you can feel it in your chest as you stand on the sidewalk. If that isn't enough, there are always Jello shots, mint juleps and, for the very brave, Hurricanes.

T-shirt shops also flourish on this street, and one shirt reads "Librarians do it by the book." Another says "American Library Association ‹ Supporting the Big Easy, New Orleans 2006." Over on Royal Street, the A&P (a good source of things you forgot to pack) and People's Grocery, a smaller store in the vicinity, are still in business, which is a good sign.

On Chartres Street (pronounced "Charters," this being New Orleans) is a most unlikely shop called the Quarter Stitch. The space is stuffed with needlepoint yarn and canvas and knitting supplies. The building looks as if neither a drop of water or a breath of wind had touched it. Over on Canal Street, the glitzy Canal Place shopping mall on Canal Street, was attracting shoppers, but Saks Fifth Avenue was set to reopen on Nov. 17 and Kenneth Cole was shooting for August. However, Mignon Faget, a jewelry designer who bases much of her work on Louisiana motifs, such as red beans and native plants, was doing business, much to the delight of discerning shoppers who prefer silver bracelets to T-shirts.

Our most memorable experience was a bus tour touted as a "Katrina Tour," for which many of us had made reservations. But the driver, a fellow named Billy, described it as a city tour. Immediately, there was an uprising among the passengers, especially the librarians.

"We want Katrina only!"

"That's what we were told ‹ Katrina only!"

And once we convinced him of our deep interest in viewing the desolation, he complied magnificently.

The tour begins. Billy tells us of his house flooded with 10 feet of water, and goes on from there with a recitation of grim statistics, horror stories and a mass of anecdotal data.

He drives us all over, and we see houses still standing but doors and windows gone, completely empty, just a shell of their former selves. We see houses with roofs caved in, piles of rusted-out abandoned cars, block after block, and it all sinks in.

Katrina plus the bursting levees were and are a recipe for disaster. Then Billy lets out what he calls a "four-letter curse word" ‹ FEMA." He tells about the looting and says the National Guard should never have left.

And then as an afterthought, perhaps, he says to the librarians, "Basically, this is the only major convention that hung with us. And the number one bread-winner in New Orleans is tourism." Cheers and applause follow.

On the day we are to leave New Orleans to return home, there's a piece of good news to report. The Audubon Aquarium of the Americas, an impressive institution and a major attraction for locals and tourists alike, has announced its reopening. The fish ‹ the survivors, as well as the "new" fish ‹ have returned home.

It's a start. Now if only the human residents could come home, too. The Big Easy is not as easy as it used to be, but for the visitor it's still pretty darn good. And it's getting easier all the time.

If You Go

For information on where to stay, where to eat, what's open and what's not, contact the New Orleans Metropolitan Convention & Visitors Bureau, (800) 672-6124; www.neworleanscvb.com. With regard to restaurants, hotels and attractions, it's best to call well in advance of your planned visit ‹ before you lock in those airline tickets.