The Spanish Fort in New Orleans

What we're talking about today

I thought I'd go looking for the Tomb of the Unknown Spaniard, so I headed up to the remains of Ye Olde Spanish Forte in Lakeview, which sits at the mouth of Bayou St. John.  

Esplanade Avenue, the street we live on, crosses Bayou St. John more towards the bayou's tail end.  The Spanish Fort is at the bayou's mouth, at the Lake Pontchartrain end.  The whole reason New Orleans is here is because of Bayou St. John.  I could tell you all about it, but I'm going to eschew my usual digressions to stick with the topic at hand.  Let's see how well that works, shall we?

It was a picture postcard kind of a day when I headed up to Spanish Fort so I took a picture.

Battlements at Spanish Fort, New Orleans

Then, I said to myself, Waitaminnit!  There's a better view!  Here's a picture with the Holy Trinity Cathedral in the background:

Another view

The Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Cathedral belongs to the oldest Greek Orthodox congregation in the Americas.  That's both North and South America.  It turned 150 years old in 2014.  I would have thought the oldest Greek Orthodox Church in America would be in New York, but then I would be wrong.  It's right here in New Orleans, of all places.  In fact, the original location is three blocks from our house, on North Dorgenois Street.  That building is still standing, if you want directions.  It's an Episcopalian Church now, i.e. Church of England.  It's a predominantly African-American congregation, St. Luke's.  

We live in a very interesting city full of layers and nuances.  New Orleans has a very dense texture.

It's very shady on the batture where the Spanish Fort is located.  It attracts some occasional visitors, mostly people from the adjacent neighborhood who walk their dogs or let their children gambol over the fort's decayed ramparts.  A few antiquarians go there.  I don't know if I would recommend it to you if you were our guest, but if I determined you would be interested in this sort of thing, I would.  It's a very pretty situation, close by Shelter No. 2 on the scenic shores of Lake Pontchartrain.  

Oak trees at the Spanish Fort, New Orleans

I wandered around looking for the Tomb of the Unknown Spaniard that I've heard so many legends about.  I found it, or, at least, I think I did.  It's an unmarked grave that's been fenced off for the protection of his (or her) hallowed remains.

Tomb of the Unknown Spaniard, New Orleans, LA

Once a year there's a low-key ceremony and people lay wreaths outside the fence.  I don't remember when it is every year and I'm too lazy to look it up right now.  If you're in town when it's happening, I'll tell you.  My innkeeper instinct tells me that not too many people who aren't from New Orleans are terribly interested in this.  I've been known to be wrong before, though.  Maybe I'm wrong this time, too.

As I was wandering around, a little dog walked by on the top of the levee.  Waitaminnit!  That's our dog!  Of course.  He rode shotgun on my motor scooter to keep me company on this bivouac.

A dog enjoying a dog's life in New Orleans

You'll never meet him.  Many people don't know he exists.  Unlike his master, Frau Schmitt, our dog isn't exceptionally friendly.  If he had his druthers, he would never be separated from Frau Schmitt.  The dog and I have that much in common.  He has learned to tolerate me and he and I get along well enough because I take him to the most interesting places.  As far as I can tell, he doesn't read this blog.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.