noelleprice (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} noelleprice) wrote,@ 2007-05-30 16:31:00 |
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Mardi Gras - it's not what you think...
For starters, Mardi Gras is just one day of a whole season referred to as Carnival, which starts 12 days after Christmas and ends 40 days before Easter. There are parades and parties and various goings-on every weekend for at least a month before Mardi Gras. The above pictures were taken at a parade called Shangri-La a week and a bit before the big day.
What else about Mardi Gras is not as you've been given to believe? Well, there's that whole thing about hot chicks flashing their boobs just to grovel for beads. This is pretty much stuff that tourists do - they think they are coming here to experience some sort of Mecca of debauchery, but really they are bringing the mountain with them. The locals tolerate this self-perpetuating stereotypic image to the extent that they can quarantine the idiots it attracts to the French Quarter and bilk a lot of money out of them. But down on St. Charles, it's a different story.
(Thoth parade, weekend before Mardi Gras)
In this neighborhood, it's about tradition... about family and friends and camping out on the same neutral ground (otherwise known as the median) as they have for twenty years, in the same spot. Firing up the BBQ or boiling up some crawfish, or picking up a mountain of muffalettas from Central Grocery. Going all out to compete for the trinkets being thrown from passing parade floats, because like any game, it's only fun if we all agree to pretend it matters. And of course, in this town, great music is to be assumed. We're pretty spoiled that way. And the music is not limited to what would typically be considered the "performers". Random citizens along the parade route walk around unconsciously humming one opus or another from the collected works of the Meters or Wild Tchoupitoulas, or, just as often, break into them in full voice. In doing so, they are less likely to get funny looks than they are to be joined by an extemporaneous chorus. Rather than going on and on like this, I'm going to opt for letting the pictures speak for themselves, with maybe a caption here and there. As always, you can click to enlarge...
On the subject of speaking pictures, the particularly astute among you may have noticed that there seem to be more pictures of me in recent entries that aren't self-portraits (you know, my typical method that involves holding the camera in my outstretched hand and taking a wild stab at getting myself in the frame) and the word "we" might occasionally work its way into the descriptions of some events. The name of the mystery man behind the camera is Nick, and that's about all the detail I'm likely to go into here. After all, this here is _my_ journal... =)
Flambeau and an illuminated float, Orpheus parade
Zulu parade, first thing Mardi Gras morning. And Rebirth Brass Band, my favorite local live musicians...
Streets shut down, Rex and his queen are front page news, Jackson Square, and me with the coveted "big beads" I caught at the Zulu parade...
Rex parade... and the aftermath...
For starters, Mardi Gras is just one day of a whole season referred to as Carnival, which starts 12 days after Christmas and ends 40 days before Easter. There are parades and parties and various goings-on every weekend for at least a month before Mardi Gras. The above pictures were taken at a parade called Shangri-La a week and a bit before the big day.What else about Mardi Gras is not as you've been given to believe? Well, there's that whole thing about hot chicks flashing their boobs just to grovel for beads. This is pretty much stuff that tourists do - they think they are coming here to experience some sort of Mecca of debauchery, but really they are bringing the mountain with them. The locals tolerate this self-perpetuating stereotypic image to the extent that they can quarantine the idiots it attracts to the French Quarter and bilk a lot of money out of them. But down on St. Charles, it's a different story.
(Thoth parade, weekend before Mardi Gras)
In this neighborhood, it's about tradition... about family and friends and camping out on the same neutral ground (otherwise known as the median) as they have for twenty years, in the same spot. Firing up the BBQ or boiling up some crawfish, or picking up a mountain of muffalettas from Central Grocery. Going all out to compete for the trinkets being thrown from passing parade floats, because like any game, it's only fun if we all agree to pretend it matters. And of course, in this town, great music is to be assumed. We're pretty spoiled that way. And the music is not limited to what would typically be considered the "performers". Random citizens along the parade route walk around unconsciously humming one opus or another from the collected works of the Meters or Wild Tchoupitoulas, or, just as often, break into them in full voice. In doing so, they are less likely to get funny looks than they are to be joined by an extemporaneous chorus. Rather than going on and on like this, I'm going to opt for letting the pictures speak for themselves, with maybe a caption here and there. As always, you can click to enlarge...
On the subject of speaking pictures, the particularly astute among you may have noticed that there seem to be more pictures of me in recent entries that aren't self-portraits (you know, my typical method that involves holding the camera in my outstretched hand and taking a wild stab at getting myself in the frame) and the word "we" might occasionally work its way into the descriptions of some events. The name of the mystery man behind the camera is Nick, and that's about all the detail I'm likely to go into here. After all, this here is _my_ journal... =)
Flambeau and an illuminated float, Orpheus parade
Zulu parade, first thing Mardi Gras morning. And Rebirth Brass Band, my favorite local live musicians...
Streets shut down, Rex and his queen are front page news, Jackson Square, and me with the coveted "big beads" I caught at the Zulu parade...
Rex parade... and the aftermath...
