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

Sunday 16 November 1997 Houston, Texas

I’m writing this from a canopy bed in a bed-and-breakfast somewhere in Houston, Texas. Read on.

We spent the entire morning in San Antonio, our latest Favorite City. Mostly, we were at the Alamo, after visiting the Oldest Mexican Market Outside of Mexico *and* trying to get to Starbucks by car, although breakfast took a bit of time (one of those nice buffets one of us especially likes). Also, we’d slept in for the first time on the whole trip (after 7:30). Turns out, this sitting in a car and driving for hundreds of miles at a time can make one tired, even when you don’t think you’re doing anything.

We had not too far to go after San Antonio, as we’d decided upon Houston when Melissa’s friend in Plano proved, evidently, not to be home. We noted again some of the interesting billboards along the way: microsurgical vasectomy reversals, DNA paternity testing, the Naked Harem, and anti-abortion pleas, one after the other. The terrain changed, again, from mountainous desert to utterly flat, green fields. Highway 10 out of SA takes you through lots of German towns, the only one I can remember to spell being Weimar. In general, the feeling I had was “East Coast.” It was probably my imagination, but as we left the center of the US and our trip East, we seemed to be in territory where people have lived for much longer than the areas in which I have lived my life (all in the West Coast or North Dakota).

As Melissa studied the AAA book to see where we should stay, hotels downtown seemed rather scarce, and the reviews of some bed-and-breakfast establishments near downtown were impressive. So, we thought we’d give one a try. My own tendency is to choose a hotel over a B&B, because I don’t always appreciate the active role a guest must play in such a place. I think most people, in fact, prefer the anonymity of being a hotel guest. But, I’d had two good B&B experiences (the owners didn’t even live on the premises), so it seemed the thing to do. We’re in the Raphael room at the Angel Arbor B & B.

The first two we tried (gorgeous almost beyond belief) were full (weddings, the both of them), and the third seemed OK (Georgian rather than Victorian). The owners live here, and their daughter is visiting, and there is also a local reporter doing a piece on B&Bs. Breakfast is in a few minutes.

The really neat thing, though, was that when we decided upon Houston, we remembered that Houston Grand Opera is something of a sister organization to Seattle Opera, and we were fortunate to find that indeed there was a performance last night (I’m writing this Sunday morning). The last of the calendar year, as it turned out, performances naturally turning to Christmas things for the remainder of November and all of December. Humperdinck’s Hansel and Gretel was the production, and with sets by Maurice Sendak.

As we entered the hall, we knew we’d made the right decision. Wow. This is why they put the word ‘Grand’ in their title. It’s huge and glorious. Opera as the new religion, and halls as the new cathedrals. We mingled with the better dressed for a while, helped ourselves to the gingerbread cookies in the foyer, then took our seats. A note in the program explained that one of the opera big wigs finds the hall too large, and s/he’s right. We had expensive seats (although somewhat obstructed by the overhanging boxes), and pitied anyone in the tier above us, hoping they all had opera glasses. Nonetheless, the grandeur and excellence of the production (the orchestra is the best I’ve ever heard) was a wonderful surprise to this last minute plan (even to come to Houston), and we left much pleased. Gretel was sung by Jane Giering-De Haan, who I (Melissa) believe sang recently in Seattle, but can’t remember which role. Can anyone help?

The audience was, unfortunately, the worst I’ve heard, too. One gets used to the fact that a significant portion of an opera or symphony audience has just been released from the diphtheria ward of the local hospital, but this one was especially prone to talking (not even whispering) whenever they felt they had something to express to whomever. This will be an interesting aspect of opera going to note, as we take up our lives in the “cultured East.”

We set off for New Orleans today, after what we suspect will be a wonderful breakfast, marred only by the fact that we’ll have to "participate" by having conversation with perfect strangers, but, alas, such is the fate of the adventurous traveler...