Mardi Gras 2008

It amazes me the way that New Orleans gets all caught up in Carnival in January and February while the rest of the country just shivers in the cold winter weather. I spoke with a number of folks from 'out there' who just remembered it was Ash Wednesday on Ash Wednesday! Really? You didn't know? Sorry, but our whole city has been busting its butt to get some partying in before Lent begins in a collective dance of beads, parades, booze and reverie for the last 118 straight hours and you just remember now that its Ash Wednesday? Where have you been? Personally, I don't know where I've been for the last few days, but I know darn well that it was Mardi Gras.

Truth be told, we didn't get too wild this Mardi Gras. That's because waking up at 6:30am to get ready to walk to a parade, catch beads, drink Bloody Mary's, and wave to the mayor as he passed by on horseback dressed as an Indian Chief is no longer considered 'wild' to us. We've lived in New Orleans for a year and nearly 5 months now. This stuff is old hat.

Again, I am not telling the truth. Mardi Gras is never old hat. We started out the season with a wonderful viewing of Krewe de Vieux, the 'don't bring the kids' parade through the Marigny and French Quarter. There was excellent music and wonderfully naughty satire that paired beautifully with an Irish Coffee on a chilly night. The theme was 'Magical Misery Tour', so the floats and sub krewes were a mix of New Orleans satire and plays on Beatles songs and albums. I think my favorite was 'We All Live in a Jello Shot Machine'.

A few weeks later, Mardi Gras weekend arrived, unfortunately with some canceled parades due to poor weather. However, in the true spirit of the season, we enjoyed good food and good company at a friend's house near the parade route despite the cancellations. The conversation that night brough us to fantastical and uncharted New Orleans lore, including a monkey named 'Pinky' who gets her nails and hair done regularly, other monkeys who were used to breed biological weapons, close personal ties to families with origins on a certain Mediterranean island that will go unnamed and who have a hand in the dark world of this and other cities (mum's the word, capiche?), and the assassination of a president. This town has layers.

Saturday (aka Samedi Gras) marked the return of Endymion (pronounced: en-dim-EE-un) to its original route throught Mid-City, and one block from our house (picture above). We did NOT know what were in store for, but we began to understand when people started sitting in their lawn chairs on the parade route on Tuesday of that week (5 days early). This is a big parade. Thousands of people spent the night on the neutral grounds of Orleans Ave, Carrollton Ave, and Canal St in anticipation of the 4:15pm start in Saturday. We live at the beginning of the route and decided to throw a party for after the parade. This turned out to be a bad idea as none of our potential guests were able to reach our house due to the crowds. The last floats of the parade did not pass the beginning of the route until 9:30pm! In the end only a few troopers made it to our house, but it was all the better for me as plenty of cookies and ganache cake were left over (Megan can coo-oo-oo-ook!).

Sunday we caught a few more big parades down on St. Charles Ave. An interesting mix of revelers and rebel-ers gather near Lee Circle. Even in celebration New Orleans can astound you with her dichotomies. A highlight that night was listening as parade goers relayed radio broadcasts of the excitement of the final plays of the Superbowl as New Orleans' own Eli Manning led the Giants to victory. A loud cheer erupted from observers and paraders alike.

Monday (Lundi Gras) was a work day, BOO! But that night we caught a magnificent show at Tipitina's that included an opening band called the New Orleans Klezmer Allstars. Those guys would play the most rockin' Bar Mitzvah there ever was. They were even joined on-stage for a song by hip-hop artist and orthodox Jew, Matisyahu. He wears a long beard, a wide brimmed hat and a white scarf and raps/sings exquisitely about the Middle East, politics, world peace, and love. One song and he was gone in a flash of beard, wide hat and white scarf. He is very well know nationally and internationally, so it was a treat to see him perform - plus he is a downright silly dancer.
Galactic was the headliner, joined on stage by Chali 2na of Jurassic 5, and they funked it up (in the positive, musical sense). We made it all the way to the end of the first set - at 3:30am before we had to call it a night.

We crashed at our friend's place off the parade route and were up before 7am (dedication!) on Mardi Gras day to watch Zulu roll. This is the most unique of the big parades, with mostly black riders wearing black-face and 'African' costumes. The prize 'throw' is the coveted Zulu coconut. We didn't get one, but there was a couple that made up signs using their baby as bait to get a coconut ('Throw one to d' baby!'). The audacity, you have to respect it.
In an all too New Orleans moment, Megan realized the folks with the baby sat behind us on the plane ride to Minnesota for the holidays in December. They are natives of the land of 10,000 lakes. They shared their Bloody Mary's with us (picture above), and their Mardi Gras too!
This is a small town and a great party. We were in bed by 11am on Mardi Gras day.

Thanks to my brothers

Hosting visitors is among the most important duties of current residents of this city. New Orleans needs the money, and the love, of the rest of the world.

On a personal level, showing my friends and family this place affirms the decision to move here and live here and to work in recovery. And it reinvigorates my hope and spirit to continue to help the people of this town get back to a stable way of life - amazing how staying out until 4am can actually recharge one’s batteries. It seems that our spiritual self needs as much care as our physical self in an uphill journey like recovery, and there is no city that serves its own citizen’s souls like this one. In fact, that may be the only reason New Orleans has survived its tumultuous and plague-plagued history to this point. I hope the city can continue to help her citizens heal.

I don’t really know what message is going out to the Outside World at this point about the recovery of the Gulf Coast, but the impression I get from those who visit is that whatever the message is, it’s quiet. This is not alarming, rather to be expected really. We are a full two years and five months on at this point, and we all know that Americans don’t have the attention span to stick with us down here for this long. It’s 2008 for Pete’s sake, and Pete is busy with the mortgage crisis and deciding which candidate is most ‘electable’ (what a terrible way to decide on a president).

As all the ‘experts’ say, 2008 will be a critical year for recovery. Just like every other year will be until 2025. But perhaps the silver lining is that the organizations that are supposed to be making the biggest impact are finally getting the wheels turning (even if the wheels are still square-ish). The Louisana Road Home program has only issued funds to less than one third of applicants, but many of those were in the last 3 months. The program I currently work for (which I won’t mention, as I don’t want to lose my job) has just made some excellent changes to get assistance to clients more quickly – the changes we’ve been asking for since the spring of 2006. This progress is painfully slow for residents, but when we are talking about the immovable mountains of bureaucracy and government, this timeline is not terribly surprising.

My two brothers were here this past weekend, and this was a big deal. Being the caboose of the family, this was the first time I was able to host them at my place. I was proud to be able to have them eat at my table, and to show them around this town because they are my older brothers and because this is New Orleans and I live here now. The visit was too short, but we got to see some of the wonder and some of the despair of this place. I can’t speak to what they got from the trip, but as the host, I was so thankful that they were here. We stayed out late, we ate rich food and then rich dessert and then drank rich drinks, we heard music, and then more music, and we walked the streets. They helped remind me again of the passion of this city, and they helped recharge my soul for the marathon that it is to help rebuild New Orleans.

muchas gracias mis hermanos

New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival

At the Minnesota State Fair there are a few foods that are fun to eat (the bucket of cookies and the bottomless cup of milk), there are a few foods I prefer not to look too close at, and there are a lot of things that make me cringe (deep fried mac’n’cheese on a stick? Really?). It is as if the important factor is not that food tastes good, rather that it defies gravity. The MN State Fair used to be my pinnacle for fair/festival fare.

The New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival was like walking into the hot, crowded, overwhelming heaven of fairs and festivals. I am not lying when I say that every single food vendor there made my mouth water; Boiled Crawfish, Crawfish Monica, Catfish Almandine, Crawfish on eggplant, Fried Oysters, Fried Shrimp, Fried Oyster Po-boys, Fried Shrimp Po-boys, Alligator Po-boys, Jamaican Jerk chicken, East-African spicy spinach and chicken skewers with a banana hot sauce that make you sweat profusely instead of just semi-profusely… I can’t even continue, the yearning is so strong I am getting sad.

Then, after stuffing yourself into delirium, you get a daiquiri and turn around to realize that Kermit Ruffins, Percy Sledge, the Wild Tchoupitoulas, and Van Morrison are all playing music, at the same time! As long as you manage not to pass out from food delirium, daiquiri delirium, or music delirium, you are bound to have a great time. It is really like the heaven of fairs/festivals (where you still get sunburned and sleepy by 5pm).

People come to Jazz Fest every year from other cities, until they realize it is just easier to live here and go to Jazz Fest every year from here. Then when they move here, they end up moving closer to the fairgrounds just to be able to walk there (it is only two weekends long! People are crazy to move just for that!) Oh, and Megan and I did move so that we can walk there. Again, first come, first serve on our one available bed. Floor space is available too.

We had a wonderful day at Jazz Fest with Jake (college roomate) and Natalie (college roomate’s gal). They bought me an alligator po-boy that made me want to go gator huntin’ (not really, but if you go, save me some meat). When we were looking for a place to sit to watch Mac Rabinac (aka Dr. John) and Van ‘the Man’ Morrison play the final sets of the day, we became victims of some very hospitable southerners. They forced us to share their blue tarp (many uses for the blue tarp down here), forced us to share their beer, forced Megan to sit in a chair when her neck hurt, one guy even forced us to accept the concert posters he bought for us. Watch out for that southern hospitality, it hits you real quick, and before you know it you might be enjoying yourself in close proximity to total strangers (although they’ll act like your friends).

FQF

A performer on stage - riverboat docked in background.

French Quarter Festival was developed as a festival for locals to get out and hear local music. It was created due to the overwhelming growth of Jazz Fest, and was 2 weeks before the big show this year. A town creates a festival because another festival is too big – right on! Mid-April is a great time to be outside, listening to great music, eating great food, and enjoying the great scenery. Overall it was a pretty magical time. Meg and I caught the Rebirth Brass Band’s set in Woldenberg Park, which is on the river at the base of the French Quarter. They let it rip and you would have to be terribly ill or a real stuck-in-the-mud to refrain from dancing. I wouldn’t even want to know you if you chose not to dance to Rebirth in beautiful place like that. ‘Rebirth on fire, Rebirth on fire!’

Mardi Gras

I apologize in advance, but my description of Mardi Gras is going to be terribly brief for those of you hoping to get an idea of what this celebration of celebrations is like in the Crescent City. The characters and punctuation of written language are insufficient to describe a scene so grand – EVEN IF I CAPATALIZE A LOT.

Rather than trying to describe the whole thing – as much as I enjoy adjectives and adverbs – I will simply list a few of my reactions;

1) Mardi Gras is a lot longer than I realized. Mardi Gras translates to Fat Tuesday, the Tuesday before the beginning of Lent, which starts on Ash Wednesday (i.e., the next day). Basically it is the last big hurrah for the Catholics (and other Christians I guess, but really, the Catholics party best) before all the sacrifices of Lent (No meat on Fridays! Santa Maria!). Hence we all benefit from living in a town that centers around Catholicism (don’t worry Mom, I’m not converting - I’m only in to the partying). In fact, Lundi Gras (Fat Monday) is the biggest day of celebration, mostly because everyone gets tired by Tuesday. But the celebrations starts WAY before then, like a month or so. Megan and I attended the Krewe du Vieux parade 3 or 4 weeks before Mardi Gras weekend. Krewe du Vieux is a very satirical Krewe that is also mainly for adults. Their theme this year was ‘Habitat for Insanity’ (see photo).

2) Despite what I just said about Krewe d’Vieux and what you might see on TV, Mardi Gras is a very family-friendly affair. A majority of the parades travel a route through Uptown that includes beautiful St. Charles Ave. The Live Oaks line the street and the lights and music and whimsical floats turn everyone into a kid. And let me tell you, kids (and by that I mean you) LOVE beads. No matter how silly it seems now to want a string of cheap plastic beads, in the moment it is the most important thing in your life. You will scream and holler and throw your hands up and run after the floats. And you especially want the ones with the plastic rainbow trout on the string (my prize catch this year).

3) Bottom line: you must experience Mardi Gras with a local. There are so many little things that happen, especially during the last weekend, that you have to have a guide to tell you which of the 40 or 50 parades to attend, and how to get into the big parties. Each parade is put on by a krewe, but there are also lots of krewes that don’t parade. Either way, most krewes have a big ball (what’s the point of forming a Mardi Gras Krewe if not to have a big party). The big krewes get huge stars to play at their parties (I saw a photo of James Brown playing at a ball). It was also evident that some wonderful celebrating goes on at people’s homes. All of New Orleans breaks for Mardi Gras weekend, and it takes know-how to party like a New Orleanian. (Megan and I have one spare bed, Mardi Gras is early next year, Feb. 5^th, 2008. First come, first serve.)

This is way more fun than Wisconsin!!!!!!

Why Stay?

Recovery is crawling - learning to crawl really. In May the population hit 58% of pre-Katrina levels. Despite that, the murder rate is high. The roads are really bad, likely to crack an axle boot and cost you $350 (can anyone tell me why my car wears boots on its axle? was this a joke?). You wake up sweating, sweat through the day, and go to sleep still sweating. Thinking is officially a physical activity comparable to jogging in this heat. The mosquito population has returned much more quickly than the humans. The big storm didn't seem to scare any of the corrupt politicians straight. And did I mention its hot?

I am really excited to stay. I have been trying to formulate reasons why so that I can share them with people who ask, 'Why stay?'. I haven't come up with a straight answer yet. It lies somewhere in a mishmash of the following; a sense of purpose in helping the recovery effort, a sense of history and being witness to it, being able to walk to the store (despite humidity), the people, the music, there is always a festival to attend, the feeling of old history is always present, the stories that hang on here, and the food. Good golly the food. Just the other day we found out about yet another gourmet restaurant in our neighborhood. As soon as Megan starts making the big money we will attend and likely leave with that incredible relaxed and satiating feeling of happiness that one can find so many ways here.

It feels great, for the time being, to say that New Orleans is home.

Brass Band

You don't know.

If haven't been to New Orleans you don't know the power of the brass band. Maybe you know jazz. Maybe you even know New Orleans jazz; Jelly Roll Morton, Louis Armstrong, Pete Fountain, Fats Domino. But you don't know the brass band until you come here.

On Sundays during the summer there are concerts in Louis Armstrong Park. Presently the concerts are sponsored by a local R&B station (I forget which) and are called 'Old School in the Park'. They aren't kidding. The concerts are held on Congo Square, a place where persons of color were allowed to gather in the 1700s under French-Colonial rule to have a market and to play music. Over the years many forces have tried to prevent the sharing of music on Congo Square, not the least of which was Hurricane Katrina, but the people here will not let it go.

Upon walking into the park and looking around I noticed that the one group of white folks in the crowd looked pretty out of place. Then I figured that the other group of white folks probably looked out of place too, but as I didn't have a mirror, I got over that quickly.

The dancing and joy in the square was incredible to see. Lose yourself in the music and don't come back until its done. There are a lot of cares in this city, and they cannot be easy to throw away. But folks at the square chucked them damn cares clear to Muskogee on Sunday. Wow. It only makes you wonder about people whose cares aren't so great, but who can't manage to loosen up for a dance under any circumstances.

The atmosphere was overwhelmingly one of good spirits. Just what everyone needs, especially here. And wow can those brass bands blow! They mix in classic jazz pieces with Marvin Gaye and Michael Jackson. "...I am the one, who will dance on the floor in the round..."

I can't describe them any more, you just gotta get down here and see it for yourself.