Monday, July 16, 2012

Bastille Day 2012 in New Orleans, Fête de la Fédération

It's Bastille Day in New Orleans, or rather 'Fête de la Fédération'.  For some reason my boyfriend has been looking forward to Bastille Day for like 10 months, since before we even knew we were moving down here.  So it is a meritorious coincidence that we are here in costume in the middle of the maelstrom of Bastille Day, French Quarter style, on this Saturday night.  


First I must tell you about our outfits because they were ridiculous.  Bastille Day commemorates the day that the people rose up and actually stormed the Bastille in order to have ammunition to defend themselves from Louis XVI's Royal Military.  Parisians really knew how to do things in large numbers back then.  Their success brought about the Declaration of Rights of Man and of the Citizen and the end to feudalism.  I searched images of paintings of the 'storming' and all I could really find was an image of a topless woman with an off white sheet draped around her wielding a firearm and a flag of France.  The other kinda looked like Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman with a du-rag.  Otherwise, it was peasant wear, done.  We went and bought fabric and I got a brown color for my skirt, couldn't figure out a top, and finally ended up with this very cave womanish get up.  We had the brilliant idea for my boyfriend to wear a toga and he picked out fabric with the Saints logo on it. I know.  So our outfits ended in his time traveler Saints toga and me in the worst looking brown skirt ever, a cheetah shirt, and some strange leopard fur Russian looking hat thing, and a brilliant faux silk red sash.

The coolest outfit ever



We ended up storming a building on Frenchman 
Street, traveling around with the parade dancing, singing, stopping every  couple blocks to dance and sing some more, traveling along Decatur and  up the stairs to the balcony overlook of Jackson Square for the finale. 

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Running of the Bulls, New Orleans

By: Amy Thomas

Its 7 am.  I do not want to be up right now, the alarm annoys, and I rise.  Coffee.  White clothing.  Bike across the Quarter at 7:30 in the morning to get your butt smacked.  Literally :)

Today is not only the same day as the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, but it is also Bastille Day, the celebrated storming of armory for weapons in Paris of the people, and New Orleans is taking full advantage of both.

Why the white clothing you might ask..well, first up for the day at 8am is the Running of the Bulls, which consists of hundred of white clothed, partially inebriated 'runners' and Roller Derby girls wielding plastic bats  and horned helmets as 'bulls'.  

The horn blows and we are off, actually running from these ladies, getting smacked in the but every couple minutes or seconds, scurrying when one comes up from behind, and taking in the other 'runners'.  You have everything from families, girls with their hair straightened and their short skirts and tiny flip flops unable to hack it in the early heat, old men dressed as matadors, a motorized cooler bike, and my favorite a Zach Galifinakis look-a-like with white cut-off shorts, a white shirt tucked into these oh so tiny shorts, suspenders, a white matador jacket, a beret, a case of beer in his hand, pilot goggles,and the most hilarious jaunt fleeing from oncoming bulls.

Check out more at nolabulls.com

'Uncle' Lionel

What an incredible weekend to be in New Orleans.

I stop here because I don't even think I can begin to explain the happenings of my day.  The great brass drummer 'Uncle' Lionel Batiste passed away this week, and ending the week long celebration of this incredible musician's life the Treme's second line went on parade starting in North Treme and ending on St. Claude at Sweet Lorraine's.  Sweet Lorraine's is less than a hundred yards from our house so I rush us out with the first trumpet sound I heard and step onto the street to see hundreds of people lining the streets and gathering about a block down a St. Claude and St. Bernard.  The parade began and with that came the music, the white clothes the lady's in their Sunday hats, the umbrellas, the dancing, the occasional tears.


The joy of this life, this incredible loss to New Orleans soul, it was indescribable.  Two bands slowly made their way down St. Claude, one U-turning to end at Sweet Lorraine's, and one going rouge and traveling down Touro rounding out onto Frenchman Street from Royal.  This was the path we chose along with a train of locals, gawking tourists, bee-bopping happiness hop stepping its way around Marigny.  On our way home we ended up walking back by Lorraine's and stopping for a while finalizing our excursion with a couple Coronas and a most excellent char grilled sausage.  


A couple moves with my man the 'Dancing Man', roof top solo's, and musicians I now recognize, it was a good night.  It all ended with us finding out we have an incredible view  from our front sidewalk of the river fireworks celebrating the eve of Bastille Day.  I close the door immersed in the air of New Orleans's unwillingness to allow its heritage, history, scars, and glory to fade into line with the rest of the country.