Boo!

Yesterday was Halloween and there are few countries in the world where this is celebrated more enthusiastically than in the US. And in New Orleans, where little excuse is needed for a party atmosphere to develop and where the whole of the voodoo tradition permeates the city, the date takes on a completely new level of “party time”.  In fact, Halloween has been celebrated here since last week as it’s fallen on a weekday which means major parties and so forth took place last weekend. I had a niggling worry that that would mean that yesterday would be a bit of a letdown with the best events having already happened.

My beacon of hope that this might not be the case was linked to the invite to a party that I received from the tarot reader early on in my time here. He invited me to a famous shop here in the French quarter. This place is all about voodoo – sells spells, Gris Gris, dolls and other assorted items necessary to help mere mortals along. It is also a place which offers lectures on the subject and other spiritually related talks. When I received the invitation he told me that the party started around lunchtime and went on until around nine in the evening. He then paused and corrected himself by saying, “Well, it ends when the spirit that possesses a person in the party leaves them!” I tried to keep my eyebrows from rising too obviously at this statement 😉

So yesterday I headed out of Matchbox 3.0 around mid afternoon and walked towards the voodoo shop. As I got close to its doors I could see people milling on the street around it, standing, sitting on chairs as if ready for a performance and also sitting on the pavements eating and drinking. I took it as a good sign but I had a sense that something wasn’t quite right and I couldn’t place it, and, no, it wasn’t that I felt any spirits asking to take up residence! I walked on and then it hit me: it was really quiet! I mean, there must have been over two hundred people on the street in front of the door but there was no noise such as you’d expect when you put that many people together and certainly nowhere near enough noise if those people are in party mode.

Still, I went in and saw my tarot friend and we chatted and I got a drink. Apparently they were waiting for a sign (?) but no explanation was proffered to clarify that statement. This quiet lasted for a while but then music began to be played and the whole thing livened up considerably; I assumed the sign had been received but no one actually made a declaration to this effect. There were very few people in costume there which made me feel better because I wasn’t too sure what the protocol was here regarding dressing up so I erred on the side of caution and went as me which, as I commented to a friend, is scary enough (although while walking I did spot what could be a costume for the future!).  In between the music we also had some short talks and prayers and incantations which were interesting to witness.

After a few hours I moved away from Dumaine Street and headed into Jackson Square, specifically to Cafe du Monde for an intake of beignets.  In my investigating what Halloween events were programmed in the city centre I found that there was going to be a parade in the quarter so I recharged with my sugar laden treats before finding a spot from which to watch the floats go by.  By the time the sun went down even the weather was cooperating to create a spooky atmosphere with a humid haze falling over the square.  I chatted with people around me and watched the unique characters moving around the area.  Here I have to mention a guy who was pushing a difficult to describe musical installation which was enormous and from which only a syncopated and lonely single drumbeat was emitted.  And then, finally, music could be heard in the distance.

Soon after, in front of me, along Decatur Street came a motley, but inventively attired, assembly of people: from zombies to vampires to Santa (!) to a whole crowd dressed as something from a “Where’s Wally” (or Waldo here in the US) comic page.  Horse drawn carriages were laden with people dressed as creatures of the night and instead of sweets, which is what is usually given out in parades, they were dispensing beads to the crowd (well, it is New Orleans after all).

The best part of the parade was the music.  Whole groups of musicians carrying their instruments and joining in haphazardly with the brightest, loudest and happiest sound you can imagine making sure no feet were left standing still.  They managed to create a great atmosphere for the marchers and the spectators.

As the parade finished passing me by I turned and walked back into Bourbon Street.  By the time I got there the parade was in full swing there and if it had been busy and party central while on Decatur Street, on Bourbon that was ratcheted up many, many notches with the crowds dancing in the streets and jostling to get pictures.  It was incredible.  I made my way to what is probably one of the nicest bars in Bourbon, the Absinthe House, perched myself on a stool and ordered a drink.  The place was pretty packed and I happily sipped away, chatting to the people around me, remarkably impervious to the fact that they were vampires, warlocks, mad hatters and skeletons.

Who am I kidding?  In truth, in this regard, it felt like only a small step up from a regular night on Bourbon Street with a few folks just sporting makeup that was a little more out there than usual 😉

E x

Lady And The Tramp

Most cities go through a full wardrobe change as the sun begins to descend.  They move from full day wear to cocktail dress and into clubbing garb.  Some effect this change subtly, discreetly, with the observer almost failing to realise it’s taking place.  In other cities it’s a full-blown, stripping in front of your eyes, short and sharp transformation.  New Orleans is a curious mix of both.

Yesterday I left Matchbox 3.0 at about six in the evening.  The sun goes down here at about half past six and I wanted to be back in Jackson Square at that time in order to get a few pictures of the same views of yesterday but in a very different light.  For any of you who have ever taken a photo with some thought behind it, you know that you hanker for the light of the early morning and the late evening as the glow it gives is quite special.  I walked down Royal Street to the Square and snapped a few shots of the cathedral and the general’s statue once again.  The streetlights and shop window lights were beginning to shine with a golden hue and the whole area looked beautiful; here New Orleans had put on its little cocktail number and was flirting demurely with the crowds.

As I stood by the statue in the middle of the garden a blast of jazz filled the square and just energised the whole place.  This was excellent music, clear, controlled and yet very much alive.  I moved closer to find a group of young men with an assortment of instruments – from trumpets to tuba to drums – standing randomly by a bench just belting out this amazing sound.  The crowd had gathered around them instantly and soon there were couples dancing on the street.  It is difficult to convey the electric blast of energy that the whole square was enveloped in.  I loved it.

By the time I turned to move away from the cathedral the sun had disappeared completely. I walked back heading towards Canal Street via Bourbon to try and catch glimpses on camera of this infamous street.  I had been told that it was likely that there would be a lot of Halloween themed activity going on this weekend so I was hoping for a few quirky characters to be wandering around for me to photograph.  And, whereas Jackson Square retains its elegance and floats about in the spangly but conservative cocktail dress, Bourbon Street throws itself straight into nightclubbing gear and we’re not talking the trendy and fashionable kind which would grace covers of uber-glossy magazines but the skin baring, bead covered, neon infused, alcohol scented, fabrics which buffet your consciousness as you meander down it.

Locals speak of this street with almost disdain.  Any blog, website or article you read about spending time here written by a local carries within it a hint of distaste.  I can understand why.  I really enjoyed my weekend here last week but I am a tourist who wanted to see what all the hype related to this place was.  But I’ve done it now.  And I can imagine the locals feel similarly. It’s a place you come to for the experience or, if you’re local, to bring someone visiting from out of town, but rarely otherwise.  I’ve been looking into other places to spend time in the evening in New Orleans and there are hundreds of bars and clubs which look amazing and which are away from Bourbon Street, both geographically and in spirit.  And that’s where the locals go.  I will be visiting some of those during my remaining time here.

Having said this, there is a place for Bourbon Street.  It is good fun and, if you leave your snobbishness at Canal Street and just aim to have a great time, it is a laugh to wander in and out of the bars. And there are a few spots which aren’t awful.  New Orleans, by the way, is either the only, or one of the only, places in the US where you can walk outdoors with alcohol and for many US citizens this means drinking at speed until they resemble the walking dead. However, for the majority it just means being able to relax around the whole idea of drinking and enjoying spreading their consumption from one establishment to another and wandering around the area enjoying their concoctions while taking in the atmosphere outdoors.

Halloween wasn’t yet quite as in evidence as I’d been led to expect.  But there were a few characters around.  In fact, as I walked back up Bourbon Street I suddenly had the feeling of something large behind me.  As I turned I found myself facing this huge character in the scariest costume ever just a couple of steps away and my heart nearly stopped.  My rabbit in headlights stare must have been enough to make whomever was inside the costume feel bad because they patted me on the back and, when they saw the camera, happily stood to one side for me to photograph them.

And, when you go from one extreme of city styling to another while wandering around – and remember this is all within a ten minute walk – you realise that New Orleans is a tale of two cities, the genteel and elegant juxtaposed with the down and dirty; a very visual contradiction: a very proper Southern lady versus a street smart hustler.  Makes for an interesting time.

E x