While the rest of the world is decked out in pink, red and white for Valentine’s Day, Louisiana coats itself in purple, green and gold in anticipation of Mardi Gras.
Mardi Gras — also known as Fat Tuesday — falls on February 17 this year. The holiday takes place in the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent for Catholics. Lent is a 40-day period preceding Easter weekend where Catholics fast, pray and may abstain from indulgence, like drinking alcohol or eating meat.
In preparation for this somber undertaking, residents across the entire state of Louisiana (and other cities like Mobile, Alabama and St. Louis, Missouri) try to get the debauchery out of their systems while they celebrate Mardi Gras.
How is Mardi Gras celebrated?
Rather than diving into the complex origins of the holiday which can be traced to medieval Europe, I will utilize my status as a native Louisianan to let you know how we really celebrate.
Best articulated by its unofficial motto “laissez les bon temps rouler,” which translates to “let the good times roll,” Mardi Gras is all about letting loose and enjoying oneself. Louisiana, the only state where Mardi Gras is a legal holiday, celebrates in two distinct fashions: The New Orleans way or the Cajun way.
This year, I had the privilege of being home for the holiday for the first time in my adult life, and I decided to travel down south to the Acadiana region of South Louisiana, also known as Cajun Country, to celebrate both styles of Mardi Gras.
There are a few commonalities between the two, chiefly the abundance of alcohol consumption, the significance of costuming and the presence of king cake.
The New Orleans style of Mardi Gras
If you’re not from Louisiana and you know what Mardi Gras is, this is the type of celebration you’re thinking of. Though New Orleans is the most well-known destination for the holiday, many cities celebrate in a similar way.
I grew up outside of Shreveport, but my family traveled to several celebrations held in different cities during my childhood, including New Orleans and Mobile. When I had to move to Alaska at seven years old, my grandma hugged me and said, “Carlie, I’m going to miss you!” I looked at her through tear-filled eyes and replied, “I’m going to miss Mardi Gras!”
This year, I went to a Lafayette, Louisiana suburb called Youngsville to experience its parade, which consists of marching bands, vehicles from public businesses and floats. Floats are large, decorated vehicles that crawl along a route in the city center. The floats are filled with humans in costume and an arsenal of plastic bead necklaces, cups, stuffed animals, treats and more.
Arriving at the parade route with my grandma armed with nothing but a bag for beads, I quickly realized that I had forgotten how these shindigs worked. Experienced parade-goers stake out a prime spot on the route and bring tents, chairs, coolers and games to occupy the time before the parade actually begins.
Luckily for me, southern hospitality is alive and well. A kind stranger took pity on us standing awkwardly and invited us into her barricade where she offered chairs, food, drinks and the bathroom in her nearby home. We waited for the parade in comfort, the alluring music of Boosie and other Louisiana rappers pumping from nearby speakers as we marveled at the crowd’s costumes and dance skills.
The parades are organized by elite and mysterious krewes that spend months preparing for the holiday, decorating their floats and selecting those who get to ride on them. Krewes are also known for hosting formal and exclusive masquerade balls.
Wearing a costume or masking oneself is an integral part of the Mardi Gras experience in both New Orleans and Cajun country. Historically, it allowed class lines to blur and everyone to come together to focus on the festivities.
The Cajun style of Mardi Gras
Formally known as Courir de Mardi Gras, or Mardi Gras Run, this type of celebration is community-centric and specific to Cajun country.
I had never heard of Mardi Gras runs until I moved back to Louisiana for high school, where I went to a statewide magnet boarding school and encountered a bunch of authentic Cajuns. This year, I experienced my very first Cajun Mardi Gras, joining the family of a high school friend in the tiny village of Mermentau Cove, Louisiana.
Money is gathered throughout the event via begging and a formal auction of donated items. Residents vote beforehand on how the funds will be allocated, whether to a community member in need or a public service project. For example, Mermentau Cove previously used Mardi Gras funds to construct a pavilion for their graveyard and add flags to veterans’ graves.
To participate in the run, residents sign up in advance and pay a fee to assist with transportation and organization of stops on the run. Residents who aren’t participating gather at houses along the route to feast and dance. Live musicians will play, usually country or Cajun French music, featuring instruments like accordions and fiddles.
In Mermentau Cove, the runners were conveyed to the house I was at by a police-escorted procession of decorated trailers. As they unloaded and raucously approached the house, they begged for coins by pointing one finger at their palm. Residents were prepared with Ziploc bags full of change, and the runners would give Mardi Gras beads in return for money.
Though I was an outsider at this intimate gathering of around 150 Cajuns, I never once felt like one. No one asked me my name, where I was from or why I was there, instead they focused on making sure I’d eaten and knew where the food was if I wanted more. That simple sentiment distills what being a Louisianan is about.
No matter who you are or where you come from, if you find yourself in Louisiana during Mardi Gras, be assured that you will leave with more beads than you can wear, a belly full of well-seasoned food and a lot of new friends who know how to have a good time.
CONTRIBUTING Christine Savoie and her parents, Belinda and Joey
This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Beads, chickens and king cake: How Louisiana celebrates Mardi Gras
Reporting by Carlie Procell and Veronica Bravo, USA TODAY / USA TODAY
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