After Nashville, we drove down the Natchez Trace Parkway, and what a glorious road that is. Little traffic, gorgeous scenery, and historic sites along the way. Meriwether Lewis died on the Trace (there is controversy about murder or suicide), and he is buried there. There was a cypress swamp that I will paint someday. We stopped in Tupelo, saw the birthplace of Elvis (two rooms, no bathroom or electricity), and then we went on to New Orleans.
What a place. Where else can you ride in a streetcar and a man with a silver face and a Confederate uniform gets on? Then you see a large, pot-bellied man wearing a cowboy hat, a bra, and shorts. The music being played on the street was amazing, and the beignets were my particular guilty pleasure.