Our hotel was half of a block up St. Anne Street and around the corner from the St. Louis Cathedral, a minor Basilica and a big damn church. I made it to 10:30 mass, which in honor of Bastille Day was in French. I managed to follow along fairly well though and it was neat to hear some French songs on the organ. There were some very nationalistic French-speaking locals that more than made up for those of us who didn't know the songs. After mass I had my escort return me to the hotel (actually, this really was an old man's escort to mass) and we packed our things and headed to Dallas. But not before one last cup of coffee on the veranda.
