What a city. True, I’ve only gone twice, both for Mardi Gras, but thanks to friends who were working for Teach for America, I experienced the holiday much more like a local than a tourist.

The first time was a helluva experience. The house that my friend shared with three other roommates was two blocks from St. Charles, meaning the parades were extremely close. Translated as massive parties in excess, drinking in excess, beads in excess. It was experiencing Mardi Gras in the best way; excessively.

This time, we were closer to Tulane, across the river. It made the event feel different, as we were miles from the parade routes.

Although the festivities descend all over NOLA during the week leading up the Fat Tuesday, they are not representative of the city as a whole. Yet during this trip especially I felt more of the underlying spirit, and it entranced me.

New Orleans is smaller than I thought. We ended up walking more than an hour from French quarter to the house near Tulane [Close to 20 miles of walking/parading/dancing all-in-all that day]. While exhausting, it gave me a good scale of the city. Similarly, we rented bikes one night and took an hour touring the downtown city streets. [We were a little drunk and drivers there are reckless and stupid, so that could have ended poorly, but instead it ended with a 1am pit stop for beignets and no injuries!]

[Also flex. The bike ride was after a cowboy themed Solange Party my friend @theoptimistdreamer on insta and http://todphotography.com/ was shooting. We saw her outside posing for photos. I shoulda said hello but I guess I felt like I was intruding. Next time, say hello. Remember meeting Watsky? Never meet your heroes I guess. YOU CAN’T DISAPPOINT A PICTURE! *butterfly in the sky. I can fly twice as highhhh*]

But more than the geographical experience, what blew me away was the depth of personal connection that seemed to seep into the community that lived there. Everyone’s got the Southern friendliness/attitude/politeness, but the massive universities turn the city into mostly a liberal bastion. Even if that friendliness is just a polite mask, it offers an easy pathway to making sincere interactions.

That temperament worked well with the small size, as my friends would bump into their acquaintances with surprising frequency. Those serendipitous run-ins are rare in New York, and generally brief, but here they were filled with heart and authenticity.

The Saints also seem to be honest with themselves; people are weird and funky which echoes with the city soul itself. True, they show their colors a little more during the festival season, but as I discovered; they’re extravagant at the parades, but only more enigmatic as the parties get smaller or more turnt.

They love music. Performers are crawling out of every corner. Bars host live musical acts nearly every night. Clubs have MCs and often roll out instruments. The parades have bands made up of from all ages; school kids to old geezers. I saw an entire DJ set up, blaring house, on a human pushed rickshaw, tailed by an entire party. Everyone dances. It’s joyous; a celebration of performance and art.

The population is also highly diverse, from all walks of life. Differences in economic, cultural, social classes lead to some of the hardness and turbulence, but also gave way to cross contamination and originality. It’s not just black and white either. There’s French and Spanish pieces, with tangled with Caribbean and Cajun roots. I went to a Mexican food truck at the Alois Flea Market where we had the most delicious tortas and icy, sweet, horchatas. I had backyard crawfish boils, popping heads with neighbors and friends on the same table used for beer pong. There was gumbo and an entire roasted pig at a house party; food aplenty to tempt day-drunk guests. I left for the airport on a stomach full of grits and eggs and sausage in a tiny hole-in-the-wall, where we talked politics and family with one other diner and three employees.

I think New Orleans attracts the weird, the musical, the flamboyant, the colorful, the art-and-crafty, the creatives, the talented. I think that resonates with where I am in life. It feels like a city alive and unafraid; qualities I try to covet in myself. There’s something fun and kind and authentic about the port city; always under water, but when the clouds clear, it’s warm and sunny, bright and colorful, strange and mysterious, in pockets, and all at once.

Highlights: Solange Party at The Building***

Algiers Mini Mart Flea Market [Mexican popup on weekends]

Red Bean Parade***

Pelicans [25¢ Oysters with a beer! Get both grilled and raw, and devour them]

Café Du Monde [For whatelse: beignets and coffee]

The Saint Bar [Late night club]

Alois J Binder Bakery [Sweet Potato Cookiesssss]

Walked down Audubon Blvd that entered Tulane. Damn those houses are nice. But also unsettling because slavery and genocide. But still, totally worth seeing.

Get off the beaten track. Pop into anything that looks remotely interesting, it probably is.

Protip for the parades. Be polite, look people in the eye. Wear bright, colorful festival wear. Or just approach and ask. You’ll get stuff.

No open container law, except it’s a bit hazy on glass. Also 1 less open container than people in a car, for the driver of course

House parties during Mardi Gras seem generally open for 5$ and a friendly introduction

Wash your Crawfish before boiling~