The House of the Rising Sun

New Orleans

Now the only thing a rambler needs
Is an RV and a gun
And the only time he's satisfied
Is when he's on a run

This is one of Jim's old guitars in a store window. They only wanted $55,000 for it. If you've been following my blog for awhile, you must know by now that I was Jim Morrison before I faked my death in Paris back in 1972 and moved to Tampa under an assumed name to become a CPA.

Past the touristy areas of the French Quarter you wander into the ancient residential areas. Looking at the bases of the homes, there was no sign that the water had lapped up here during Katrina..

We found an entertainment area on Frenchmen Street just outside the quarter. It was lined with places that play music. Most of them opened somewhere between 7 PM an 10 PM. One building at the end of the street has a sign describing the execution of six Frenchmen by the Spanish Governor in 1769.

We stopped in the courtyard of the Mojita for the Pinot Grigio and little plates of tapas (excuse the redundancy). This one was crab and avocado drizzled with garlic and melted cheese. They also had deviled quail eggs and grilled gator tail sausages, but we wanted to save room for dinner.

We wandered on though the French Market near the Mississippi River. They had some cool voodoo dolls, gator heads and feather masks.

Outside the market is a golden statue of Joan of Arc on a golden horse. Apparently she was 19 when she died. The statue was a 1991 gift from the citizens of France to the City of New Orleans.

Mrs. Phred shopped for shoes in St. Charles Square. Nothing kills the blues like a new pair of shoes. They had nothing that fit her feet.

I talked to some colorful residents on a park bench while she shopped.

Mrs. Phred led me to the other side of the Quarter to a place called Tommy's Cuisine. The veal picata was covered with crab pieces. Mrs. Phred had some really disgusting sweetbreads. The waiter asked her if she really knew what they were...Ugh! Gag me with a spoon!

It is a great place to visit. I could live here. We spent about seven hours of walking the streets of NOLA, listening to music and eating fine chow. What a place.