Springtime in the Big Easy

We went to the Easter Day Parades – just for the fun of it!

The bright and sunny Sunday morning saw streets full of people decked out in their Sunday best: ladies dressed in lacy layers of chiffon, pastel dresses, with huge, flower-festooned floppy hats, riding to the Cathedral by carriage or convertible; waving to the street crowds; shading themselves with colorful parasols. They even stopped for Mass – and then got back in their carriages for more meandering through the Vieux Carre.



And then came Chris Owens and her entourage, rolling down Royal Street. Dressed to the nines, her traditional Easter Parade didn’t disappoint. Oh, how the crowd appreciated it all – floats, brass bands and marching ponies!



But for the best costumes of all - apart from Chris Owens herself, of course, who always reigns supreme – you must be at the Easter Sunday Gay Parade. We were late for it but, luckily, caught up to them on Burgundy Street. All was merry and joy (and gay)! What costumes! What sauciness!

French Quarter Festival - once an event purely for locals - has been discovered, and it really maxed out this year! Everyone - young, old, kids, dogs - all came together for a three-day joy ride. The first day, we ate, drank, and danced all day to the music. The second day, we ate and danced, but drank just water until 6 p.m., when the hangover started to ease. The third day, I had bailed out by 6 p.m., utterly exhausted, desperately needing to go home. Gerald laughed at me – what a weakling, no stamina – and out he went for dancing and jazz at the Royal Sonesta.
And now, Jazz Fest is coming right up. You must be prepared for the crowds. Relax. Don’t hurry anywhere.

So, what happened to my stamina? Well, I try to keep up with my walking and Tai Chi training, in order to stay conditioned, but…
The first morning after arriving in ‘The Big Easy’, I rise early as usual, 6 a.m., and head out to the waterfront, walking and executing ‘The Form’ - XinYi Hunyuan Taijiquan - on the grassy levee.
Next day, I rise at 7-ish; the following day, 8:30. And then, before you know it, I’m sleeping in until 9:30, coasting to a final wake-up time of 10-ish!
Welcome to New Orleans: a place to sleep late; get up and lounge; take your time; enjoy your coffee, lingering over the experience. Things just get started slooowly; no problem with late arrival. The Jazz Fest crowds stream in all day.

Lately, we have begun to exercise in the early evening - walking the riverfront, prowling The Bywater, cruising Bourbon St…
Wait a minute! Don’t just tourists cruise Bourbon St? Oh, yes, and then some! For the real local music scene, head over to Frenchman Street, or a plethora of other spots all over town. They all get going properly around 10 p.m., but some places also have early shows.

Still, once in a while, after dinner, we go for a wander down Bourbon Street… It’s kind of like going for a drink at the Del Rey in Costa Rica – but, oh, much more so!
Bourbon Street is best experienced between the hours of 8 and 11 p.m. Earlier is okay if you’re with kids, to just get a look at it on the quieter side, although music pours out onto the street all day. But, for that matter, you can listen to musicians all day long on just about every street corner in the Quarter.
However, after 11, you’d better watch out! Everybody is drunk; some slobbering, staggering, groping, mauling; a few punching, getting punched, getting arrested and waking up in jail, or worse. You must stay alert (and sober) on Bourbon Street if you’re visiting. Then you can observe the wacky scene, outrageous costumes, and howling masses safely (relatively). It’s enough to make even grandpa blush…

And the wailers wail, “But what about all the crime?”

Well, the truth is that the biggest danger in New Orleans is YOU. How much are you drinking? Where are you going to score something, or someone…
If you behave yourself, and display just a little caution, you will have the time of your life in The Big Easy.

Meanwhile, back on the Farm:
Zincy, our big, black, gentle, zaguate dog, was lost to the forest a few weeks ago. Zinc followed his identical sibling, Maggie, lost to the forest some years ago. Why? Both were Incurable vagabonds. Neither could tolerate confinement – chewed their way out of just about every conceivable restraint. And after managing to escape, they would disappear for several days to make up for lost vagabonding time. But, usually, they eventually returned - until they didn’t. Rest in Peace, sweet, gentle Zincy!