Today an 80-something year old nun gave me and the rest of an audience an auditory tour of New Orleans at Mardi Gras. She had white hair pinned under her short wimple and kind, kind eyes, and she said she loves wearing her practical, modern habit because when people see it they know she's there for them, she's there to be of service. She told us how to get to New Orleans from Chicago:
"Well, you take the Amtrak, it goes right there. You ride all night, you can sleep through the night, the chairs let you put your head back and your calves up, and my sister and I take food in our baggage, we have our little home right there with us!" She gestured to her side as if she had an imaginary rolling suitcase alongside her seat.
"When you arrive in New Orleans...well, we head straight for the convent, most of the other people head for their hotels. But I have to tell you, hotels will charge you twice as much during Mardi Gras, so it's best to have friends there. Mardi Gras starts about two weeks before the day, when the King of a Crewe takes a bouquet of roses to a young girl of about 18 - that's how she knows she's the Queen of his Crewe. Then there's a parade every day for two weeks! Every Crewe has about twelve to thirty-six floats in the parade, and everyone lines the streets to watch, families and everyone. It's really a family affair. Everyone always wants their picture taken with the nuns, they say, 'Oh, can we take a picture with you so we can prove that Mardi Gras isn't that bad?'
But of course, in the French Quarter they have some things that Christians probably shouldn't be looking at!"
It made me want to get on the train with her and go to New Orleans immediately. IMMEDIATELY. Even though Mardi Gras isn't going on at all.
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