by After driving over 1,100 miles and living for a couple of months in the desert with next-to-zero humidity (plus next-to-zero visibility during one formidable dust storm), when I stopped for gas at Junction, Texas, I knew I was really in some place different. The tall, leafy green trees around the gas station were filled with twittering birds at midday. (Not birds singing in the morning, as in a dawn chorus, but right there chirping loudly in full sunshine.) The air felt less abrasive, softer. The hillsides were green with scattered trees and shrubs that stood taller than an adult human.
I had entered Texas Hill Country. It’s a beautiful countryside that looks like a good place to run cattle. No wonder the Johnsons (as in LBJ), and Willie Nelson have or had ranches in the area. (The Bush 43 ranch is further east where the land is less hilly.) I didn’t take any photos in Junction, but plan excursions to places in Hill Country like Fredericksburg in the coming weeks. Posts to come.
Until that moment the weeks of experiencing the hot dry climate, the influence of California culture and the ubiquity of big box stores had dampened almost any sense of being in a different place where different things are happening, where people see the world and behave differently.
So, Junction, Texas marked one change.
The second change happened when I drove in to San Antonio, opened my car door and was transported to the tropics. San Antonio is not in Hill Country. It is a city built in a humid, green forest. Leafy trees, bushes, and vines grow every place where humans haven’t removed them. The weather influence comes from the Gulf of Mexico. The behavior of many people is influenced in part by the South.
I have been called “Mam” more than ever before in my life. Quite often it is by young men who open the door for me and say “Mam” with an accent. (Not everyone here has a noticeable accent.) The manager of the hotel where I am staying calls me “Miss Carol” which is a really old-fashioned Southern form of address. He’s from Kentucky so I guess that explains it, although it makes me feel I should put on a fluttery lavender dress and go find a front porch where I could sit and sip lemonade in the afternoon. Only once before have I been called “Miss Carol” and that was by the children of an Air Force Captain in Las Vegas, but that’s a different story.
I got lucky by arriving here at the beginning of Fiesta, a city-wide 10 day long party and fund raiser. Last night I watched the Texas Cavaliers River Parade on TV and was struck by how the Cavaliers, mostly businessmen in their late 30s and 40s in their pale blue and red semi-military uniforms draped with medals differed from the white-suited men and women at the Tournament of Roses parade. Some of the Cavaliers even carry swords to form an arch for their “king”, Alphonso the 97th, to walk under! These are traditions that go back for almost a century and are still being carried forward proudly. The medals, BTW, are badges created by various organizations around the city to sell to raise funds for children’s charities, the beneficiaries of the Fiesta. So the Cavaliers are dedicated to good works, but they still look like toy soldiers from the Nutcracker.
The River Parade—one decorated barge after another filled with people dancing, singing, playing music and generally having a great time—is one of several marches and daily events during Fiesta. Unlike the Tournament of Roses, which is basically one day for a parade and viewing floats, one day for football, which has few participants and millions of viewers, every person in San Antonio can get in on the Fiesta fun. Among other events upcoming: three nights of mariachi bands floating along the river, a pooch parade, two food fairs, a queen being crowned and two more parades on streets. One of them, called the Battle of Flowers Parade, is for marching bands from around the city. School is cancelled for everyone that day—sorta a snow day for kids who never experience snow. And I love the idea that children are called “flowers”.
One other way that San Antonio is different: in the breakfast room at my motel the TV was turned to Fox news. CNN is the default news channel in hotels around the world, but not in southwest Texas—at least not in that motel. But Trump and the border wall seem miles–years–away in San Antonio, especially during Fiesta.
I had planned to do a separate post only of photos from Fiesta events, but I’m including some taken at San Antonio Botanical Garden here. Everyone, even parrot lovers, can get in on the fun during Fiesta. A post about the gardens will come next, I think.
