SATURDAY

Here we are at the hotel, Le Richelieu in the Quarter. It is located on the corner of Chartres and Barracks.
Whenever I told anyone where I was staying, I would say I would be at Le Richelieu, as in Cardinal Richelieu. They have this portrait of the old fellow in the lobby.
Here is my room. Paul McCartney stayed here for a couple of months back in the 1970's, but not in this room.
The view from the front window up Chartres Street.
From the other window looking up Barracks Street.
The windows at the top are where my room was on the fourth floor.
There is a small courtyard with a pool. They also have a small cafe for breakfast or lunch and a bar.
Pierre: Bienvenue New Orleans, mon ami!

Jeffrey: Aw, crap. Not another one.

P: Now is that the way to say hello to your imaginary friend, Pierre?

J: How did you know I was here?

P: Pablo emailed me.

 
J: This is the French Market. It is the oldest public market in the the country. It's mostly a bunch of people selling cheap junk from little stalls.
P: We had a diesel tanker run into the bridge a couple of days earlier and it spilled fuel into the Mississippi. The river has been closed to traffic while they try to clean it up.
J: You didn't have anything to do with this, did you?

P: I don't even have an imaginary driver's license, let alone an imaginary boating license.

J: I see that they have isolated the oily gunk to the shorelines so they can clean it up.

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