San Antonio
Dad this post is for you because you asked about knees. No not our knees but the knees on the cedars lining the river in San Antonio. It was meant to be wet when we arrived in San Antonio and I was almost looking forwards to the wet after New Orleans. But it was not to be. We arrived late in the evening after a full day on the train. Actually we arrived early by a good hour so it was only 11 PM and not midnight when we arrived.
The train was a strange trip, we rolled through Louisiana and Texas just relaxing after New Orleans and taking in the scenery. In Louisiana we saw rice paddies which for half the year were flooded to let the crawfish grow. Small red pots sat at regular intervals on the smaller paddy fields while every so often a air foil would drift over to them barely rippling the water with the movement of the fan. There was so much water in that early part of the trip. The land almost wet to look at even as the sun blazed down.
It became a lot drier as we crossed into Texas. The Rice Paddies giving way to a dry eroded landscape. Every so often the train would make stop and those with nicotine habits would jump out. At one point I joined them just to stretch my legs, I tried to make small talk to the attendant lady but she was in a bad mood and told me to in essence go away. I don’t mind that, the journey on this train is over 30 continuous hours and most of the crew are on duty the whole time. But I just didn’t understand how she could be chatty to her friends then turn around and be rude the next minute. I do understand tourists can be annoying with the same 10 questions everywhere we go. I don’t think it was a very happy crew. The next Amtrak we were on the crew were much happier and nicer. Heather in the dinning cart in particular was great, she was an older lady with a beaming smile and a mop of white hair. She sat with us briefly and chatted about our plans. On that train we were in a sleeper and our attendant was a wild eyed looking lady who raced about like a mad woman. Oddly it kinda suited her.
We chose the train because it did give us both a chance to view the land scape as it went by. But after a while of seeing canyons and dried out land the eyes become tired to it. At first one of the conductors tried to give us commentary on where we were and what we were seeing but he left the train at Houston (I think). He was fairly interesting guy, he hadn’t worked on trains for that long but after being made redundant and working some other jobs someone convinced him he should become a conductor. And he was good at it! He talked about the rail lines and how the Sunset Limited from New Orleans to LA had the most number of train track operators, each with their own rule book which was still printed like a old phone book for them to understand. They also would get ‘dailies’ which told them the changes to the tracks which as conductors they needed to keep the driver informed of. So their job was more than just looking after passengers.
By the time San Antonio rolled around we were ready to disembark, the day had been long but un eventful. A quick Uber and we were at our air BnB in stormy but not raining weather. I’ve spoken about air BnB in an earlier post. This one was on the hotel side of the equation. It was in a rather big house with celebratory bunting adorning the porch and back stairs. Our space was accessed through the back stairs directly to a door on the second floor. The room was nice but that’s all it was a room and a bathroom. A mini fridge anda TV on a wall. IT was probably smaller than a motel room but large enough for us and our stuff. Down stairs and another room next to us were also converted into Air BnB stays. Not quite rental accomodation and not family house.
We ventured out sometime around mid morning as the threatened rain didn’t happen. It was overcast and a bit gloomy but warm. Not the mugginess of New Orleans just a warmth to the day. We as so often went without a plan of what to do. Just to explore the surroundings and maybe check out the Alamo. Our room was on South Saint Mary street just south of the Alamo drive and a quick walk into the central district. At first it really just looked like any other big city in the southern states. Can I even say that and be understood, does my understanding of the architecture and roads actually mean anything southern? Anyway it was car lots, modern buildings and buildings that reminded my of what I’d seen on TV as ‘Mexican’ rounded features and bunting, lots of porches and places to sit. Some were more like what I’d consider the southern estates would look like. Big trees overshadowing the porches while people sat in rocking chairs and dogs… ok that was only a couple places, mostly it was just big city street scape with some interesting graffiti.
As we neared the central area however things changed, first there was a little village square, it had a wall around a central courtyard which was large, they were setting up or taking down some market stalls as we went by. We turned down the street and then exploring turned again onto a pedestrian only footpath. It led to the river walk and the most wonderful amphitheatre with the stage across the river. Benches made from stone and ground and artfully laid out. The river flowing swiftly between the stage and the seating, downstream a bridge crossed the river, arching high to avoid any flooding and decked with flowers and vines. This was not the dusty tree filled place of my memories.
I don’t think it would really be recognised anymore by Dad. It had been beautified and the knees from all the trees are gone. Replaced by neatly laid out pavers and restaurants, checked table cloths and waiters waving menus for a almost non existent breakfast crowd. We walked on, marvelling at the river walk and the archways and bridges, as each one we would ask ourselves which way we should go. We had no real plans except to see the river walk and the Alamo.
It was coffee that turned us off the river and up onto the streets above. We exited near the Cathedral and with a quick check to the map worked out the way towards the Alamo. We stopped less than a block later for that coffee, a take away from a street vendor. The large metal jug she poured it from made us both look suspiciously at each other but it turned out to be a balanced and wonderful brew. It could have been the late night and the lack of an earlier coffee that made it so nice. Or perhaps the fact we drank it sitting in yet another small shady park with wrought iron tables and watching the birds play in the water.
Breakfast came next as we continued to stroll up the street. A bakery that seemed like a cross between the best French patisserie and Spanish menus. Then onto the Alamo itself. My memories didn’t afford my any thing to really recall and my woeful modern US history didn’t help much more than stereotypes, so it was with fresh eyes that we looked at the history and one thing stood out above everything else. All the men who died at the Alamo were not American, they were not even Texan, they were a group of men who choose to believe in something bigger than themselves. This cry went out across the nation and still resounds today. It isn’t a cry for American independence or freedom but the simple fact that a group of men wanted to live their life their way. Now admittedly that then became Texas and Texas then joined the federation that is the USA. But the principle was there!
The gardens at the Alamo are peaceful even if when we were there it was a little bit crowded. We opted to escape the crowds and the growing heat and headed back towards the unit. Along the way we found one of the worlds most strangest public toilets. Now iKaruS thinks that the male hole in the walls in Japan (Literally a hole in the wall with a almost cubicle around it ) were strange but this one was a full sit down toilet above the Alamo near where the ‘trams that are not trams’ come in on a busy street. It looked like a bus information centre with writing on grilled stainless steel. At one end a door opened onto the toilet. IT flushed the toilet but had no sink. A alcohol dispenser sat ready to be pushed near the door and outside was a spigot for water. What made it so strange was that its nature meant every sound outside could be heard and as people were walking up to look at the posters that made it rather interesting experience.
After my odd loo stop we found ourselves somehow renting bikes and heading on the road towards the missions. Or rather trying to find the river side and thence down to the missions. The bikes were rented for the 24 hours at a flat rate but only if you docked every hour. It wasn’t the cheapest way to get around and they were designed for tourists and short distances with heavy frames and large flatish wheels. In fact we had to change the bikes out a couple times before we found ones that were right. Once we found the river we were zooming downstream towards the missions but the heat started to Zap us. This was muggy hot humid heat not dry and the air started to feel like it was getting heavier and heavier. The path however was easy to follow with stops in the shade and interesting art works along the way.
We got as far as the first mission and docked the bikes before heading in. The ranger encouraged us to listen to the four short stories of those still looking after the missions in the air-conditioned comfort of the small visitor centre. So we did then explored the mission itself. Not much is left but the chapel is still in use. The old rooms and quarters long gone. The garden was green but didn’t have a lot of interesting things to look at. IT would have been nice to see the missions in all their glory with the frescos bright and sparkling. It would have been a rather harsh life carved out. I also felt a little sad that the Indians while accepting the protection of the church against others lost so much of their ways and went from a hunter gather society to a agrarian one in the space of a generation.
We headed back into town on the bus thankful to escape the heat for a while and find a nice place for dinner.
The next morning it was raining and colder. Raining a lot! So we slept in, then used the last couple hours on our bikes to ride into town between showers. After lunch and with the rain coming down harder we caught a uber and did laundry. Laundry it seems features a lot on our itinerary! But when you are travelling reasonable light clothes wise you do tend to go through them fast. Because of the rain we ended up in the cinemas that evening before heading home.
So on the next day we were really happy to find it was not raining and it was not hot. So we decided to explore the other missions but not before breakfast. J/ust around the corner from our unit was a small Mexican cantena. Now it had odd opening hours but we were there in time for breakfast and had some wonderful soft tacos filled with beans and shredded meats. The coffee was Devine mine was mixed with cinnamon and brown sugar. A speciality of the area and boy was it nice.
Fuelled we headed to the next missions. Catching the bus to the last one and then walking back along the river. The missions themselves are an interesting mix of architectures with open bell towers, small rooms for families and larger areas for communal gatherings. The thick stone would have protected the entire settlement from the extremes of the weather and allowed gardens to flourish. The Alamo after all was a mission before it was a fort. But the best part of the day came while walking back along the path through wild meadows aglow with spring flowers. IT did not feel like we were in a city at all. They have done a lot of work to make the river beautiful for the tourists and the locals alike and even areas traditionally ugly like under a freeway they made a picnic ground using the highways above as shade.
Later that afternoon we headed towards a small side river which had its grand opening that day. The new concrete and new plants looked slightly wiltered under the glare of the late afternoon sun. But again the city was planing for its future and making what had been an almost open sewer back into something resembling nature. Corridors inside the banks had been made to mirror the creeks flow. Allowing the new plants to take hold and the the fish and frogs to breed. We saw just how much had been changed as at the end it went back to being its dirty creek winding between a car park and building site. We wandered back to the river walk and then down back along the river, past the large open flood protection gates and finally I found the knees.
Where the banks gave way to larger houses just outside the city centre the trees were allowed to dangle in the river, their knees rising along the otherwise manicured lawn. This was more the memory I had. I don’t think it is really recognisable but it was a wonderful city to bike and walk around.
We finished that evening sitting in a bar along the river, drinking local brews and simply enjoying the warmth.
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