Northern California 9 Nov 1997

Southern California 10 Nov 1997 11 Nov 1997

The Southwest 12 Nov 1997

Texas 13 Nov 1997 14 Nov 1997 16 Nov 1997

New Orleans 16 Nov 1997 18 Nov 1997

Montgomery, Alabama 19 Nov 1997

Friday 14 Nov 97 San Antonio, Texas

In some senses, we shouldn’t have much to say tonight. We knew we’d be facing the longest trek of our journey today, with a drive of nearly 600 miles (between El Paso and San Antonio) during which we would pass no more than about two towns. I didn’t even see those. This Texas is one big state.

But, we’ve just come from perhaps the most interesting three hours we’ve yet spent on our trip (given that William Tell was something less than riveting), so it seems like we packed more in than there should have been time for.

The scenery on this leg was just fine—more vegetation than the southern California part, and some spectacular hills and mountains. One thing we’ve failed to mention is how many signs we’ve seen (since Arizona) warning us that prisons are in the area, and that we aren’t to pick up hitchhikers. Not too far into our Texas leg, we were forced into what appeared to be an agricultural inspection station, and we started taking an inventory of our fruits and vegetables, as we slowed for the inspection. But, it proved to be the United States Border Patrol instead, and a quick glance showed them that we were not likely suspects. As we pulled out of the station, a look at the map showed us that we were much closer to Mexico than we’d been aware.

Other foreigners: In El Paso, the hotel was hosting several conventions, and one was being attended by what appeared to be most of the German Air Force. Here in San Antonio, as we left the hotel to tour the River Walk, the British RAF got out of a couple busses and dragged their bags into the hotel. Let’s hope there’s nothing brewing in Europe, ’cause most of Europe’s defense forces are over here.

Because of the long uninterrupted distance we would be traveling today, we’d prepared by bringing tapes of audio books. First up was “Babe, the Sheep Pig,” a simply wonderful story read by someone with the proper accent. I think the movie added a scene or two, but the idea is the same in each, and anyone who liked the movie would love the book, especially as read on this tape. Second feature was Frank McCourt’s remembrance of his Irish upbringing and especially his mother (Angela’s Ashes), a magnificent story read by the author in an Irish brogue that seems an integral part of the story. Having these two audio pieces made the long, long drive seem to go by in an hour or so.

Texas is big, and San Antonio is also big. It seemed as though we drove through it for miles on the freeway before entering the Downtown section for which we’ve chosen each of our hotels. We’re staying at the Camberley Gunter here, which has been the choice of numerous presidents, most recently the incumbent, as well as Duke and Duchess of Windsor.

I had suggested a stay in San Antonio because I’d long heard of its River Walk, a developed area along the river that runs through the middle of the city. In effect, these sidewalks along the river are one story below street level. As we approached the river (just a couple blocks from our hotel), we had the impression that the town was fairly dead, especially considering the hour (6-ish). As we descended one of the stairways into the River Walk, though, we realized that most of the town’s inhabitants were down there having fun. It is one of the most active urban areas at night I’ve ever encountered.

The Paseo del Rio claims to be the most visited tourist attraction in Texas. And it *was* darling. So darling, in fact, that we decided the next ATA convention should be held here. The river itself isn’t very wide, perhaps about 10 yards across, and the “walks” along the sides are only about 10 feet wide. No railings, either; you could fall into the river just like that, which, in fact, I (Melissa) almost did, when a large, rude (obviously non-Texan) man nearly jostled me into an early bath. Not surprisingly, those who walk along or ride upon the river (we took a 35-minute pre-dinner cruise in an open flatboat) do tend to drop things into it, intentionally or not, so once a year the city drains the river to clean out the bottom.

The river banks are so crowded with restaurants that it’s hard to know where the outdoor seating for one restaurant ends, and that for another begins. It’s still very windy in this part of the world, but we braved the chill and ate outdoors. It was just too cute not to. Michael’s heart was warmed, though, at the sight of his beloved but not-yet-ubiquitous Starbucks along the second story of Riverwalk shops. Nonetheless, he raised a few eyebrows when he order a triple-shot mocha valencia. (Michael: I counted 25 people waiting either to order or to pick up their order, with only two very harried souls trying to serve this throng.)

Tomorrow morning we intend to hit (not literally) the Alamo, the Cathedral, and the El Mercado, supposedly the largest Mexican market outside Mexico. We haven’t been able to get in touch with my friend in Plano, north of Dallas, so we’ll be heading on to Houston, hopefully (we think) to catch another opera...