So You’re Filming in New Orleans… (a local primer)

As more and more people come to our fair city to film, I find myself increasingly anxious to explain New Orleans culture to the people of L.A., my former home of nearly 18 years. First, the name. Most people here don’t call it N’Awlins any more than they eat “blackened” things, but they never, ever call it New Or-LEENS. Except in a song. Let’s face it, nothing rhymes with Orleans. Try New Orlins (rhymes with fins). And if you need to find Tchoupitoulas, a local street, it’s Chop-a-toolis. Oh, and Burgundy is Bur-GUN-dy like Rodeo is Ro-DAY-oh.

French Quarter Fest – Day 2

French Quarter Fest day 2 began with the welcome cry of Mr. Okra driving by, “I’ve got fresh plums. I’ve got fresh oranges.”  My mother recently told me that her first words were not mama or dada, but “swimp boy.” Growing up with wagon vendors outside her window, everyday she heard the guy roll by yelling, “Shrimp boy” like an ice cream truck’s bells announcing goodies coming your way. Mr. Okra drives a truck donated by locals after Katrina but his call-outs are part of the soul of New Orleans. We bought 7 over-ripe bananas and 4 plums for $2 and headed out.

Mardi Gras Indians 2011

Since moving here in 2009, I’ve attended at least 60 parades, seen hundreds of costumes, heard SO many bands and experienced many versions of New Orleans culture, but nothing has impacted me like the beauty of the Mardi Gras Indians. After nearly a straight month of Mardi Gras and St. Patrick’s parades, the season crescendoed for me with the incredible sights and sounds of the plumed Indians and their attending bands. We’re deep into “you had to be there” territory, but I’ll do my best to capture it.