has a political theme every year, and for 2014, it’s appropriately about the oil spills in the Gulf of Mexico and the lack of accountability by BP Oil. Elizabeth and Dawn conceited a headpiece for her costume featuring a black bowler hat with a gas mask attached to its brim and a couple-feet tall black oil rig with black pipe cleaner "oil" erupting from it.
Marley had a blast sniffing around all of Elizabeth’s found objects (her work is conceptual sculpture/mixed media), including old farm animal bones, and a 12 ft. taxidermied crocodile. She’d put out an amazing spread for us—mini quiches, perfect croissants, madelaines, and best of all, King Cake filled with almondine paste. There was also orange juice, bubbly, coffee, antique white napkins, an antique tiara, and several mardi gras crowns and masks. That night we returned home to our campground on the edge of Lake Ponchartrain, 15 minutes from downtown New Orleans—the ugliest 15 minutes you can imagine. To get there, one has to drive under and over at least 4 highway overpasses, and through lots of abandoned or semi functional industrial warehouses and factories. When we first followed the GPS directions to the campsite, we both had the same thought; uh-oh, this looks like a location for a crime scene on CSI or Law and Order. But then lo and behold, one arrives at a campsite with little palm trees and sites right on the water’s edge at the marina. Not bad at all. We decided to leave the RV in the campground and rent a car to get around they city, which turned out to be a great decision when you’re maneuvering through narrow streets crammed with revelers of all types. It also enabled us to get off the beaten path, since we’d both been to NOLA before and were more interested in discovering places far from the central tourist haunts. Plus of course, it meant we could bring Marley with us everywhere, which we did.
The Krewe de Vieux parade at dusk the next day was FANTASTIC. Spectators jammed the Bywater streets four-deep, most wearing some sort of costumes or masks. It was clear a lot of time had gone into the construction of the mostly satirical and sometimes adult-themed floats, and the costumes were truly outstanding. I wish I had brought a real camera with me. My iPhone photos are not good, but I’ll include a few here anyway. I especially loved the music, the bands — from old-timers playing honky-tonk to high schoolers in their band costumes. (But what else would I expect? Of course. This is New Orleans!!!)
Speaking of music, our first night there we went to Vaughan’s, a small corner bar, to see Corey Henry & the Tremé Funktet — they rocked the smoky little place with their electric violin, two drummers, sax, trumpet and keyboard. I danced nonstop for almost two hours. Even Laurie danced some. On another night, we wandered down Frenchman Street and barhopped to experience the amazing array of 5 piece bands playing R&B, funk, soul, jazz, hip hop, etc. But the best night in my estimation was the night Elizabeth took us to a Mari Gras Indian rehearsal in Tremé at a small corner bar. The tribe Chief himself welcomed us in and we sat mesmerized while one by one, other people in the room with tambourines joined his call and song. Before long, the place was alive with singing, stomping, music, and the most vibrant expressive dancing I have ever seen. I stood on the edges of the central music makers and clapped and danced in place. I couldn’t help myself. The energy was contagious. I feel so honored to have been a momentary part of such a magnificent tradition. I would love to come back during Mardi Gras to see them parade through neighborhoods at night, covered from head to foot in in their beaded and feathered costumes. Check out http://www.bestofneworleans.com/gambit/what-are-the-mardi-gras-indians-how-many-are-there-and-what-is-their-history/Content?oid=2316601 for an overview of the Mardi Gras Indians.
During the day, Laurie and I drove and walked all over the place but tended to avoid heavy tourist traffic. We stepped out into the French Quarter one morning to try café au lait and beignets, but we escaped within the hour and didn’t bother walking through the French Quarter, which we’d both visited on previous trips. Instead, we wandered through a couple of ancient cemeteries, tried to get up on a levy (but couldn’t figure out how to avoid the security fencing) and ogled the garden district homes.
On our last day we drove throughout the Lower Ninth Ward. Truly shocking. Seeing it on the ground is like nothing I’d imagined from the televised and new reporting images. And the devastation is still, all these years later, so depressingly present. A shockingly large majority has not yet (if ever will be?) rebuilt, and so many people are living in terrible poverty, surrounded by empty lots, piles of garbage, boarded up homes, rotting buildings. It’s notable how quiet it is here, no birds because there are so few trees, and we didn’t see any young children, only a few teenagers playing ball in a road, which like all in the area, is cratered with mega sized potholes. One small area at the end of the highway/bridge, along the river, has been rebuilt by Brad Pitt’s “Make it Right” project (and probably other organizations I haven’t learned about yet) and those houses are lovely, clever, colorful and solar powered. All have entire exterior wall trellises for vines, and baby trees planted in front and on the sidewalks. Here, you could feel (and hear) how hope had returned to the area, but it’s such a small section.
Of course there is so much more to share, and I would have loved to write throughout those 4 days, but we were busy from early morning to past midnight every day!
We are now en route through Mississippi, a two day trek, and hope to get to Memphis tomorrow. As we were setting up camp in a state park here, Laurie marveled at a couple of kids she saw riding around the campground, one on a mini-motorcycle and the other on a hulking four-tire ATV — ages maybe seven and five. They’re probably out here in the woods to take part in Mississippi's youth squirrel hunting season. After eating a meal of stewed okra, it really hit home for us tonight that we’re not in New England any more!
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