Posts Tagged ‘krewe of dead pelican’

New Orleans’ Ten Best

December 31st, 2010 by Nancy Fournier


It seems every magazine and newspaper article has their selected ten best lists of 2010 today so while I am waiting for the guests to come down for breakfast I decided to compile my own 10 best New Orleans personal experiences in 2010.

1.        Fishing for redfish in Barataria Bay – A month after they capped the well in the Gulf ad some spots were open for fishing, we decided to support our local charter boat captains and spent the day out on the water catching redfish.  They were plentiful and shimmering in the water and delicious to eat!

2.       Listening to roosters’ crow on an early morning in the Marigny- We stayed with friends in the Fauborg Marigny (the neighborhood to the east of the French Quarter) who have a large backyard garden.  Sitting with coffee in hand in the diffused morning sun we heard roosters throughout the neighborhood and it brought me back to times in the Dominican Republic.  We really are the northern most Caribbean country!

3.       Treme at Treme- Going to the Treme Gumbo Festival and seeing Wendall Pierce and Clark Peters from the HBO Treme series there eating gumbo and dancing to Shamar Allen like the rest of us.

4.       Beignets at café Du Monde- Yes a touristy thing to do but something every local enjoys every once in a while.  Our son and girlfriend were visiting, the sun was shining the café au lait was perfect and the powdered sugar five inches deep, good company and yummy beignets.

5.       Marching with the Krewe of Dead Pelicans- when the BP oil spill happened we all felt so angry and helpless and worked out our frustration with a good old New Orleans parade complete with costumes and a brass band.

6.       Attending the Burlesque Review- New Orleans hosts a national burlesque competition in the fall.  Curious about how burlesque is making a resurgence we went to the final night review showcasing the winners of the competition, while I enjoyed the acts, it was the merchandise in the lobby I really loved, who knew there so many versions of fishnets and pasties existed?

7.       Wearing my Saints shirt every Sunday- I never really rooted for a team before and living in New Orleans in 2010 means you are a Saints fan.   Everyone dresses on game day and you cannot go anywhere without seeing folks in saints shirts, and that includes nurses working in the hospital, wearing them under  their scrubs.  I sport my “12” Colston jersey with pride and feel part of something larger than myself on game day.

8.       Listening to Kermit Ruffins rehearse with a full orchestra swing band – We made the rounds on my birthday and one stop was at the Mid City Rock and Bowl (dance hall and bowling alley for the uninitiated) and before the show we went in and listened to my favorite trumpeter play and croon songs from the 1940’s, even took a spin on the dance floor!

9.       Surrounded by tubas- Tuba Fats was one of New Orleans most famous tuba players and they had a second line for him this year at the jazz and Heritage Festival with all the best tuba players in the city participating.  I don’t know how but I ended up in the middle of them as we marched throughout the Fairgrounds, tubas as far as the eye could see and the swell of their music, it was like marching in the midst of musical elephants.

10.   Landing a Drew Brees football during the Bacchaus Mardi Gras Parade- Long story, suffice it to say there were crowds, Superbowl champions , Saturday before Mardi Gras and Drew Brees throwing plastic footballs to the crowd.  I am my far the smallest and most sober of those around me, but when the smoke cleared, we have a keepsake on our mantle!  Here’s hoping for a wonderful 2011 and Two dat to all!

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New Orleans Uniqueness

June 6th, 2010 by Nancy Fournier

We are often asked by our visitors what makes New Orleans unique.  The obvious answers;  our food, the music, our own lexicon of expressions, Mardi Gras Indians practicing on a Sunday afternoon hint at the answer.  This weekend I think we had a good gumbo of activities which evidences why we are like no place else.  While the oil still flows, one guest went to pick up her sister at the airport but was planning a route which would avoid the President’s motorcade for his third trip here in so many weeks.  Despite events in the Gulf, the Louisiana Oyster Festival was in full swing in the French Quarter and I spent all day Friday at neighbor’s house across from the inn making our costumes for the Krewe of Dead Pelicans march Saturday night to protest the inactions of BP to halt the spill.  The march was the brainchild of Ro Mayer who is a realtor here in New Orleans who  felt she needed to do something rather than sit back and watch the destruction of our coast. So, in true New Orleans spirit the call went out for people to gather on Saturday evening in the Arts District and while the galleries had their monthly wine and cheese receptions, we would march to a brass band pulled together for the occasion, dressed in shrimp boots, parasols covered with oil and pelicans, sea turtles and crabs.  Not a lot of organization, just an idea and a social network to pass the word.  We went as oyster beds with oil droplets hanging from our shells.

Here I am as an oyster bed

Blue traps left over from Katrina days were stretched out with paraders moving the tarps to simulate the waves of the Gulf, and we had black crepe streamers to serve as the plumes.  I was interviewed by a journalist from the LA Times who expressed her confusion about why we were not an angrier group.  I tried to explain; we channel our anger here into creative celebrations which honor our own way of embracing the world.  As with all self styled parades here we picked up more people as we went along, numbering close to 200 as we wound our way through warehouses and galleries.  There was eleven minutes of silence by Gailler Hall and the streetcars stopped in their track, politely waiting until we were finished, appropriately respectful and somber.  I kept trying to imagine an uptown bus in Manhattan being willing to wait.  But what I love best about my adopted city, is as the two of us walked home, dressed as oyster beds, shells clanking as we moved up the block and stopped in a bar to cool off, perched on a stool with seaweed draping from our stools, a women on a date, one stool over in her shoulderless cocktail dress did not give us a second look, just another day in New Orleans, people costumed because that is one way we give expression to our thoughts.

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