From one low-lying, flood-prone city to another

I spent the last couple weeks of December with my Dad in Mestre, which is technically part of Venice, Italy. As I boarded my plane, the symmetry of leaving one city in danger of disappearing under water for another one in the same situation wasn´t lost on me.
Although I lived in Italy for 7 years in my 20s, I was struck by how many people were looking at me on the street. There are a few possible explanations for this: 1) my stunning good looks, 2) my lime-colored jacket, which stood out amongst all the conservative navy blue, gray and black coats, or 3) my typically American fashion which combines sneakers with everything, regardless of how poorly matched. It also occurred to me that I could just no longer be used to the kind of eye contact and checking out that goes on in a Latin country.
Venice had its most significant snow fall in probably 20 years while I was there, so I got to experience a winter wonderland, even if it wasn´t the typical setting for that. Now that I´m back here in New Orleans, we are getting the coldest weather the area has had for 14 years, and I´m thinking about all the hats, mittens and long underwear that I foolishly left in storage in New York. Oh well.
January 6th was the Epiphany, or, as people here call it, 12th night. The first Mardi Gras parade was held by the Krewe St. Joan of Arc. It was fun with people carrying candles in a parade and a couple of women dressed in medieval garb on horseback. The woman in the photo on the left is wearing a hat that says: heretic, relapsed, apostate, idolater.
Let´s just say that I can see how people could get hooked on this place.