I flew into New Orleans on the Saturday evening before Mardi Gras to spend the holiday with an old friend, her brother and his family, and one of her friends. We proved to be a good group, cooperative and friendly through all the festivities. I was already behind in parade attendance by a day, so they had plenty of beads to share with me once we were up and running.
We started the day at Morning Call at City Park, which was a favorite of my hostess. At that point, it was the great competitor to Cafe Du Monde, which is the quintessential New Orleans stop for beignets. More about that later. The weather that day was variable, offering bits of sun, heat, humidity, rain, and cold. At that point, it was cloudy and we sat outside feasting on coffee and beignets, the signature New Orleans breakfast dish of deep fried dough pastry buried under powdered sugar. I had both hot and frozen coffee as I caught up with old friends.
Once we had our fill, we wandered out to the Sydney and Walda Besthoff Sculpture Garden, which features the collection of Besthoff Family, who made a fortune from their pharmacies in the Gulf South and established a foundation to grow public appreciation for the arts. There was much to admire.
We wandered the park for awhile, then headed into the French Quarter for the morning. Our first stop was St. Louis Cathedral for Mass. We paused for a moment to listen to a quintet of buskers playing a combination of Jazz and Big Band tunes and then headed in for the last Sunday of Ordinary Time before Lent, which sounds nondescript. In New Orleans, it’s the biggest party of the year. The cathedral was wonderfully peaceful and the noise of the crowds and buskers outside was completely silenced once we were within. The ritual and scripture just keep moving along the liturgical year, regardless of all the celebrations happening around them. The bishop celebrated a more progressive Mass than I expected, its theme about reaching out to the marginalized. It ended with a parish-requested prayer for the end of racism and violence.
New Orleans was celebrating its 300th year in 2018, and the cathedral its 280th. We wandered around for a bit after church. During a stop for pralines, I picked up my Mardi Gras mask in the green, gold and purple of the feast. It proved to be the smartest purchase I have made while traveling, because it was wholly appropriate for the event. How many times can you say that about a mask? In addition to engaging me in the celebration, it covered over melting or rained out makeup during scrums for parade throws. I wish I could wear it every day.
We wandered other stores, then took the boardwalk back to the French Market for the views of the Cathedral and Lake Ponchartrain.
Once back at the market, my friend and I bought matching fleur-de-lis bracelets. The group enjoyed frozen Irish coffees and lunch at St. Cecelia’s. Then, tired from the humidity, we headed back to the hotel for a slight rest.
We planned to join my hostess’ extended family in front of St. Stephen’s School in Uptown New Orleans for a number of reasons. It sits on the parade route, making for easy access to floats. The school opens its cafeteria for Mardi Gras, and you can support its efforts to provide quality education in a historic neighborhood by purchasing food and bathroom access tickets during the parade. And it is where my host and hostess married, so there is a strong family connection to it. We piled back into the car with King Cake to share and joined the family camped out with lawn chairs on a patch of grass/mud in front of the sidewalk for the Bacchus Parade. It was packed with other families and revellers. People were geared up in Mardi Gras green, gold, and purple. My host had insisted that I wear some beads to be in the spirit, and he doffed a lime green fedora which made him easy to spot.
Then the parade began, and float after float passed by, crewe members on them throwing beads and toys and all sorts of stuff at the gathered crowd. One of my group noted the mentality astutely when she said, “I don’t need any of this junk, but I want more.” It’s total consumption just for its own sake. Apparently, the beads are made in sweatshops and they are clogging the sewer system because they get hosed into it during the post-parade clean-up. There is an effort to make them recyclable. But in the midst of it, all concerns are put aside as men and women, children and elders scuffle for whatever is being tossed. Marching bands pass, King Bacchus (JK Simmons in 2018) passes, incredible floats pass. The beads and toys keep coming.
Through it all, the crowd was friendly, families enjoying the annual show. I was glad to be in a neighborhood instead of among strangers downtown. I also got pretty tired; my hostess had succumbed to a migraine and admits that she often takes off from Bacchus to catch her breath. When the parade finished, we headed back to our van, stopped for drive-through daiquiris (for some), and another stop at Morning Call for snacks. We were exhausted and in bed early. There was lots of celebrating still to do and needed to pace ourselves.