TRAVEL THERE: MYRIAD BOTANICAL GARDENS, A GLORIOUS OASIS IN DOWNTOWN OKC
Warning! Downtown OKC is under construction. Your GPS won’t like it. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go. It just means you need to be ready for it. We found parking close to the art museum and walked the few short blocks to Myriad Botanical Gardens.
An entire city block, being prepared for implosion.
There’s a Conversion Happening
Five or six years ago Bill and I took a few days in OKC in the days before blogging. Much of what I planned for this stopover with Deb came from my memories of the trip with Bill. I remembered OKC having a decidedly turn-of-the-century Western charm, but it was the turn from the 19th century to the 20th. OKC is moving into the 21st century whether I approve of it or not.
A sign of the the times
The two buildings above may deserve the makeover, but there were others we were sorry to see included in the “improvement”. They sported signs of architectural interest that will be lost when antiquity is replaced with skyscrapers.
The inscription says, “We are what we do.” I wondered “What has someone done?”
At least the city is trying to incorporate natural beauty in between it’s glass boxes, but Deb didn’t think much of it. This small architectural feature was carved with a platitude and accented with a large stone. In Deb’s opinion, it looked as if someone had failed to clean up after their pet dinosaur. When Bill saw this picture, he felt the same way.
The Myriad Botanical Gardens had also changed. I remembered them as having more green grass and less hardscape. Not that they haven’t created a beautiful place. It’s just not as botanical as I remembered.
The Conservatory
The gardens outside were different and I was still trying to decide how I felt about that when we arrived at the entrance to The Conservatory. The last time I’d visited there had been a festival going on and the entry area was congested with small costumed entertainers. This time everything was serene.
We made our way to the garden area and entered a wonderland. It was amazing. I won’t bother you with my ecstatic ramblings. Instead I’ll just share my pictures.
Come back next week and I’ll share another downtown treat with you. The Oklahoma City Museum of Art.
TRAVEL THERE: BULLS-EYE ON BRICKTOWN – LOOKING FOR FUN IN OK CITY
It’s about three hours to Oklahoma City from Dallas and we needed every minute of that to shake off all the frustrations which tried to keep us from leaving town. Deb and I both needed this trip. We were seriously devoted to radical attitude adjustment. That’s why we put the pedal to the medal so we could start our adventure in Bricktown.
Bricktown
Though we were on our way to Wichita KS for a Women’s Ministry Event we were determined to have some fun along the way. Bricktown was a great place to start.
Oklahoma City is a conglomeration of several interesting neighborhoods and I thoroughly recommend giving yourself several days to visit the city so you can enjoy them. Bricktown isn’t a neighborhood though. It’s an entertainment area. There’s a baseball stadium, tons of restaurants and even a Riverwalk. It’s not exactly San Antonio, but it’s well worth your time.
Deb and I blasted into town, threw our stuff into our hotel room and headed to Bricktown. Along the way, Deb read through some of the brochures I had on the area and decided The Mantel Wine Bar & Bistro sounded like our kind of place. Boy was she ever right.
Dark and Cozy
There was still daylight left when we got to Oklahoma City. The GPS took us close to our destination but construction thwarted Nancy the Navigator’s efforts to get us to the restaurant. After a little wandering around, Nancy decided she knew where she was again and she delivered us to the front door. The exterior of the building is nothing to write home about, but there was a parking space right out front so we felt like we’d come to the right place.
The moment we stepped inside all hints of sunshine disappeared. The place has a clubby, steakhouse vibe. We were seated at a banquette. I can imagine that being romantic for a couple, but Deb sat on the upholstered seat and I opted for a chair across from her.
The waiter promptly arrived and offered drinks, but we hadn’t figure out our game plan yet, so he left us to peruse the menu and wine list. We decided to share an appetizer and an entree. The entree was fish, so we chose a nice bottle of white to go along.
Seriously Delicious
I obviously left my bad luck in Dallas. The wine selection was crisp and refreshing. The appetizer was to die for. Baked Brie is one of our favorite things in the world and when Mantel’s version of it was put down in front of us we wondered why we didn’t order two. It looked perfect and tasted even better.
The entree was every bit as good. The grilled mahi mahi was cooked to perfection and rested atop a scrumptious risotto banked by stalks of grilled asparagus. The more we ate, the more we wanted, so we allowed the waiter to show us the dessert menu. Everything sounded amazing so we asked for help. Before we could finish the question he took the dessert menus out of our hands and told us we wanted the Lava Cake.
My half of the entree
I’m sorry to report that I failed to get a picture of the dessert. Two balls of ice cream were served next to a large ramekin of chocolate stuff. He told us it was hot, but we just had to dump it out on the plate to mix with the ice cream. The poor waiter nearly fainted when he came back to find us trying to handle the ramekin with our napkins.
Waiter Love
The waiter whipped up our plate and disappeared. He returned moments later with our freshly dumped lava cake rolling around among the ice cream balls and he was obviously amused. He told us we were the first patrons he’d ever seen try to attempt the feat. We reminded him we’d warned him about ourselves. He laughed and confessed he’d been very wrong about us. He’d pegged us as salad-with-a-glass-of-wine types. Then we’d ordered a bottle of wine, an appetizer, and an entree. He hadn’t been surprised we also wanted dessert, but us playing hot potato with the lava cake had made his evening.
A Stroll Through Bricktown
Oklahoma City is not exactly the Big Apple and Bricktown on a Thursday night with no baseball game is a ghost town. Still we decided to wander down to the Riverwalk and take a stroll. I imagine that it can be a pretty exciting place to hang out, but it was eerie to be the only ones down there.
With nothing to distract us we went back to the car and returned to the hotel. We had a fun day ahead.
TRAVEL HERE: THE TRIP WITH NO NAME GETS BOGGED DOWN IN BIG D
So, I’m suffering from a case of the blues, I’ve had a crazy week, my computer is all screwed up, there’s a certified letter at the post office and I need to attend a media event so I can write an article before I head out of town. Easy peasy, right?
On the Way Downtown
At least Bill was up and he was working on my computer. I coached him along by running in between the master bath and my office while I got ready. Of course, the office and the master bath are on separate floors at opposite end of the house. I was a little bit late, but I had to go to the post office first, because Bill wanted to know the story behind the certified letter and he was working on my computer after all. So, I make a mad dash to the the post office in Rockwall, called Bill with the bad news the letter reported (certified letters always have bad news) and pointed my car down I-30.
I had smooth sailing all the way to Fair Park which lulled me into thinking that I might actually make it on time. Suddenly, the road ahead was filled with red brake lights. Almost simultaneously my bladder informed me that I needed to make a trip to the restroom and I needed to go as soon as I could.
Oh, and did I mention that I’d gotten a new GPS for the trip, because a map update for my old one was going to cost almost as much as a new one. I knew how to get from my house to the Arts District, but I wanted to get familiar with the new instrument’s idiosyncrasies. The GPS, which I named Nancy the Navigator, dumped me in the middle of downtown and then got mad when barricades wouldn’t let me follow her instructions. I picked my way through the construction alone and made it to the museum. My watch said I’d only be a minute or two late. I just hoped they’d have a slow start so I could visit the facilities.
Let’s Park
I pulled into the appropriate parking lot, but chose the wrong lane. Seconds ticked by as I held a frustrating conversation with the woman in the attendant’s booth. Mechanical noises flooded out of the underground lot and the woman’s speech sounded like I would if I had my mouth full of pebbles. She finally left her booth, walked over to the lane I should have entered, pulled a ticket for me and handed it to me. Then she said the only thing I had understood in the whole exchange, “Park down on level six.”
The voyage to level six was excruciating. I still needed to use the restroom in the worst way and the ramps were so steep and tight that if I’d gone any slower I would have been going in reverse. I parked the car on six, hoped I didn’t look as manic as I felt and started searching for the elevators. If they had any signs pointing to them, I didn’t see them, but then I hadn’t seen that I was entering the garage in an exit lane either, so who am I to complain.
On to the Museum
I rode up on the elevator, crossed the lobby to the mezzanine outside and then hurried down a set of stairs to the museum. They’d move the door on me since I’d visited the museum last, but I finally made my way in. I was less than ten minutes late, but the event was in full swing. The artist and a curator were in the exhibit introducing it to the assembled members of the press. I had hoped to fit right in with my peers, but I’m sure my hair was flying in all directions and I looked like a deer staring into headlights. And I was dying to go to the restroom.
I bravely attempted to ignore my personal needs and pay attention to what the artist was saying, but my bladder was having none of that. If coming in late wasn’t embarrassing enough, I had to wander away from the group and find a restroom. While taking care of the necessities I practiced deep breathing exercises and then patted my hair into place. I kept telling myself all of this frustration was not the end of the world, but right then it felt like it was.
The Day Continues
Though I felt as if I’d been wandering around down a rabbit hole, only a few moments had passed and the artist was still in the same corner he had been when I left the group. I started taking notes and making pictures like a pro. In spite of it all I had enough to write a good article – if I had a computer to write it on when I returned home.
No such luck. I had a text from my bestie letting me know she could leave work early and the day had not exactly gone as planned, so I still had things I needed to do. I resolved to focus on the trip and if the article was posted on Monday instead of Friday, then who but me was going to care. It’s not like anyone was paying me for writing about the exhibition opening. This blog is a labor of love.
I changed out of my member-of-the-press outfit and put on my traveling clothes. I loaded up the car and had some lunch. I fritzed around with my computer some more, hoping beyond hope that it would just miraculously fix itself, but in the end it didn’t and I had to start Norton again. I gave it up and left the house.
Is it any surprise that when I got to the 7-11 to fill up my car the 7Rewards app wouldn’t open up, so I had to pay for what should have been my free soda? Are you at all surprised that traffic was awful and even though I’d left with time to spare I barely got to my friend’s office at the appointed time? Or that I turned on the wrong street even though I actually knew where to go? Or that my friend had fallen the night before while packing and was barely ambulating?
The Trip With No Name hadn’t even begun and I already had a few choice appellations for it! Come by on Wednesday and we’ll head off towards Oklahoma City.
Deb and I both had been on San Antonio’s Mission Trail before, so our visit was just a refresher course. We started at Mission Concepcion and arrived during a break between services.
Very modern families shared the latest news on the mission lawn. White-frocked priests chatted with parishioners. A large black dog wove among pants legs and teased children, earning a pat or two along the way. Some version of this scene has played out, right there, for several centuries. I found it heart-warming.
Espada Mission
We stayed a few minutes and then passed by San Jose Mission, because we would be returning shortly for Mariachi Mass. With only 45 minutes to spare, we chose to see Espada over San Juan. Deb couldn’t remember which was which, but I knew Espada was my favorite.
Mission Espada
When we pulled into the parking lot Deb knew I had chosen correctly. It’s her favorite mission too, even though she couldn’t remember the name. She recalled it from a previous visit, long ago when her boys were young. We sauntered among ruins and enjoyed the rustic feel of the old church.
Big News for the Mission Trail
As we chatted with each other about the lovely place a gentleman overheard our appreciative comments and shared some news. Mission Espada has been chosen as a World Heritage site. Since the official announcement didn’t come out until July 5th, finding this out in early June was a big deal.
On the surface this sounds like a good thing, but I really don’t know whether I want UNESCO messing with my favorite mission or not. All five missions are included in the designation, but Espada has been singled out as the site of the interpretive center.
Deb and I both feel a very spiritual connection to this particular mission, because it seems to be the least modernized. We feel as if there is still a link to the men who originally suffered and sacrificed to bring the Good News to the New World. We know that not every priest who came to the Americas had the best interest of the natives as their goal, but something about Espada makes us believe the men who came there did.
What we really don’t want is a bunch of people in costume making like they’re historical figures and signs all over the place explaining how abusive us Europeans were to the natives. Sure there were abuses, but we’re afraid new abuses are about to be perpetrated on the beautiful Espada Mission. It is a church first and it should stay that way.
After hearing the news we entered the chapel and spent some time in prayer. It was a holy moment for us, touching both our hearts. We hope we can have that experience the next time we visit Espada.
Time for San Jose
Mission San Jose
A peek at our watches told us we had lingered too long. We made a mad dash back to San Jose. Of course, we parked in the boonies and raced around wildly trying to find the worship center. A woman took us in hand and found us a seat.
The Mariachi Mass
I have bad news. The Mariachi Mass isn’t what it used to be. The last time I was at San Jose, parishioners were excited about the renovation about to occur. I’m afraid they did to San Jose exactly what I don’t want them to do to Espada. They improved it above and beyond my recognition.
Not The Way It Used to Be
I have memories of a small dark sanctuary filled with the exhilarating music of mariachis laced with the intoxicating smell of incense. The new sanctuary is big, bold, bright and completely out of touch with my memories.
Back in the old days, the mariachis wore incredible costumes sparkling with silver conchos. The new uniforms have stamped metal conchos, but only the color is silver, not the metal. The old mariachis wore the complete costume. Sombereos atop their heads, heavily embroidered suits with silver conchos and heavy black leather boots. The new mariachis wear white shirts with mariachi bowties, but it’s not the same. Someone once told me the same family had performed as a part of the mass for many generations. I don’t think any of them are still there. One of the violins was so off key that I actually thought I was going to have to leave. It was like nails scraping a chalkboard.
Here’s how bad it was. One of the choir members recognized us as strangers and apologized to us. That’s pretty sad.
It was time for us to head towards Dallas, but one more adventure awaits. Come back next week for lunch at Gruene’s Gristmill. In the meantime, enjoy the Mission Trail photos below.
Thanks to the VIA trolleys Deb and I were visiting San Antonio attractions we would’ve never reached by walking and we weren’t having to hassle with driving and parking. That’s the way to enjoy sightseeing.
The day was drawing to a close, but we had energy enough for one more attraction. We walked out of the San Antonio Botanical Garden just as the VIA trolley pulled up to the curb and rode over to the Japanese Tea Garden.
Brackenridge Park
Both the Botanical Garden and the Japanese Tea Garden are part of a larger complex of attractions called Brackenridge Park. Included in the Brackenridge Park Conservancy is a zoo, a golf course, the Witte Museum and other recreational activities. Brakenridge Park is an important part of what makes San Antonio such a wonderful place to visit.
The Witte is undergoing a major overhaul right now, but on a previous trip, Bill and I had thoroughly enjoyed the museum with its South Texas Heritage Center. My last trip to the zoo was decades ago, long before I was blogging. Though small in comparison to some zoos, like San Diego for instance, it was quite charming. What sets it apart from other zoos, in my mind, are the beautiful animal sculptures sprinkled throughout the exhibits.
Visiting the Japanese Tea Garden
As I planned this trip with my bestie, I hoped we’d have time for the Japanese Tea Garden. I kept telling myself that surely somewhere along the way I had been there, but I could never recall a specific occasion. So, I looked forward to refreshing my memory. The VIA trolley rolled up to the entrance, I took the obligatory picture and then my bestie and I climbed the hill to the garden.
The Pavilion
Once we reached the top and walked over to a pavilion where other tourists were madly snapping pictures, I realized I had never actually been there, because if I would have been, I would never have forgotten the view!
San Antonio’s Japanese Tea Garden was re-claimed from a quarry and the results are dramatic. From the pavilion you look down into a verdant landscape with two large pools. Then your eyes travel to the far side of the garden which features a cascading waterfall.
Garden Needs TLC
Since I’m always honest with you, I have to tell you, this is not a pristine garden like, Portland’s or Fort Worth’s Japanese Gardens, but the landscape is so unique it is still well worth a visit. As I was writing this series of articles and pulling up sites for linking, I noticed the Brackenridge Park Conservancy urging San Antonio’s citizens to come to a meeting about a new Master Plan. After seeing the condition of the Botanical Garden and the Tea Garden, I have to say they need a Master Plan.
A wedding ceremony was underway beneath the falls when we arrived so access was limited, but we made our way down the hill to the pools. One pool has perfectly clear water (well mostly clear water) and the other is clogged with some sort of algae or plant. Hopefully the new Master Plan will include clearing the murky pond.
When the wedding concluded and we were allowed back under the waterfall. The site, which had been so impressive from the pavilion, lost some of its charm up close. Like the Botanical Garden, the Tea Garden suffers from lack of maintenance. No one has loved either of these gardens well enough in quite a while. Enjoying gardens the way I do, it was sad to see what once must have been a stunning garden struggle to stay alive.
Back to the Trolley
We made a circuit of the garden, stopped in the tea shop for refreshments and headed towards the trolley stop. Truth be told, we were pooped. With the exception of a few quick trolley trips we’d been walking all day. Deb wears a Fitbit and when she told me how many tens of thousands of steps we’d made, I was suddenly even more exhausted.
The trolley finally showed up and we dragged our tired bodies into our seats, but the day wasn’t over. After a short respite in our wonderful suite we were rejuvenated and recharged – just in time for happy hour and dinner. Come back next week and I’ll tell you about that!
OK, I admit it. The Dallas Arboretum has me spoiled. That and all the amazing gardens I’ve visited throughout the US and the world. Still this was not my first visit to the SABG, so my expectations were not completely unrealistic. The gardens still managed to underwhelm me.
A Previous Visit
My last visit was back in 2001. I was living in California at the time and came back to Texas to take my parents on a little road trip. We had a blast and the SABG was one of the highlights I remember the Conservatory Gardens were closed at the time due to some kind of maintenance, but I also remember loving the gardens. Mom was a real garden aficionado and she liked it, too.
The Garden Today
The last fourteen years have not been good for the gardens. Gertie’s Garden, the entry area, was sharp looking and well-tended. The Wisteria Arbor was charming. But as we ventured out into other areas, it just looked like the garden had not been loved. Things needed paint; chains were rusty; gardens had weeds and dead flowers – it was disappointing.
The first disappointment was a little Japanese Garden tucked away in a corner. I love Japanese Gardens. One of the things I like is that the good ones always look as if the gardener just finished trimming. Everything looks perfectly manicured. This garden looked as if they’d let the plants go for a while and then tried to trim them back. Things just didn’t fit well.
We went on to the Conservatory, where it looked like half of everything had died and they really needed a good window cleaner to come in and go after the glass panels. Then we headed to The Overlook where the lack of maintenance was even more evident. We blew off the nature trails because we figured if the rest of the garden looked overgrown, then the nature trails would really be wild.
I think the real problem might be M-O-N-E-Y. It takes a lot of it to keep a garden of that scale going, (just ask DABS). So, here’s what I want you to do. I want you to go visit the SABG and send them donations. I remember this place as being beautiful. They’re going to have to tear out a lot of overgrown plants and do a lot of replanting to save the charm of the place. They also need to work on the panes of the conservatory.
This wasn’t our last garden of the day and the next one was a pleasant surprise. Come back next week and I’ll tell you about the Japanese Tea Garden at Brackenridge Park. In the meantime, in spite of some negligence, it was a garden and there were still some pretty things to see at the SABG. Here’s some shots I took.
From MFA.org the site of the Museum of Fine Art in Boston
TRAVEL THERE: WYETH NOT VISIT THE SAMA?
Sorry for the pun but I couldn’t resist! From The Pearl we crossed the Riverwalk’s Museum Reach and entered the San Antonio Museum of Art in its Lone Star Brewery digs. This is a museum I love, but so far in this multi-year journey I haven’t told you much about it, in spite of the fact that I have visited.
My Love Affair with the SAMA
I first visited many years ago when it was in a warehouse downtown. I’ll confess I loved their installations in the old space. They had less room, so they were very creative with their displays. The old antiquities exhibit was one of my all time favorites. The entire ancient world was represented in one room. Many different pieces were suspended in the air inside one large area. I would always lose count of time as I considered each piece and compared to the others nearby. There was less to see, but I liked that I could take it all in during a fairly short visit – if I didn’t spend hours in the antiquities section.
Their new digs are so spacious that I have yet to make it through the modern art section. I always start with the antiquities and European Art and before I get to the modern stuff I’ve worn myself out. This, of course, is not the SAMA’s fault. I feel a little guilty about always opting for the classics, but not guilty enough to do anything about it.
My Recent Visit
Tip of the hat to my Dallas Museum of Art(DMA) membership which got us free admission. The guy manning the entry booth at the river didn’t know anything about the VIA trolleys, so they first thing we did was trot over to the “official” information booth. They said the trolley had just been by, so we had almost an hour before they would be back again. We discussed our options and chose the Jamie Wyeth exhibit.
When you say Wyeth to me, I immediately think of the patriarch of the Wyeth artists, N.C., an illustrator whose colorful plates graced classic tales like Treasure Island and Robinson Caruso, but he spawned a litter of artists, all of whom have created beautiful works. The DMA once had a Wyeth retrospect exhibit featuring masterworks from the father and his talented offspring. I knew Jamie for a famous portrait of JFK – not the official one, but this one.
I’ll have to say that much of Jamie’s art is a little odd and introspective for me. Bloody seagulls are just not my thing. I am, however, glad we had the chance to take in the exhibit before the trolley showed up. I have, after all, been looking at the museum’s own collection for a long time. Unfortunately, if Deb wants to see it, we’re going to have to go back another time (and you know how much we’d hate that!).
If you want to see Jamie’s work, you’ll need to go to Bentonville, AR and see it at the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art. But Crystal Bridges is the last stop on the tour, so get there by October 10th.
Hopping the VIA
Back at the SAMA, not wanting to miss VIA’s once hourly trolley, we arrived at the stop early and enjoyed the break. When the trolley showed up, we climbed on and wanted to pay for a $4 all day ticket, but neither of us had singles and they don’t give change. So our $4 tickets were $5 each. Inconvenient, so don’t make our mistake. However, we were ready for a lift.
Next stop in the San Antonio Stroll? The San Antonio Botanical Gardens. Come back next week and I’ll give you a tour.
This Briscoe Western Art Museum is housed in a wonderful old library building.
TRAVEL THERE: SAN ANTONIO STROLLING
Little did I know when I tagged this trip as the San Antonio Stroll how apt the title would be. I was thinking of wandering along the river from Margarita to Margarita, not hoofing it from downtown to The Pearl. Well, that was before the VIA streetcars let me down.
Go Mobile Without Your Car
One of my favorite things about San Antonio is that you can forget about driving for a day or two, because they’ve got a great transit system. I don’t know what the locals think of it, but the VIA Streetcars are great for tourists. However there’s a pitfall. I’ve been using the VIA Streetcars for decades and that was the pitfall. I assumed I knew how things operated.
They have a route going around and around downtown – called the Red Circulator. It comes by every ten minutes or so. I have ridden that one to get an overall view of the area, but it used to cover more ground and there were several other trolley lines that hooked up with it. There’s still something called the Primo – but that’s a bus. I’m a tourist, so I want a trolley. There’s Blue Circulator which looked like it could get me to the other places I wanted to go, but I was a little fuzzy on the time thing.
I pored over the new trolley schedule online, but couldn’t find a schedule that said, “Here are the times the Blue Circulator comes by its stops.” Note to self: Next time stop by the VIA Info Center and ask them! It’s right on the Red Circulator route and it was steps away from my hotel. Instead I decided to play it by ear. Good thing I bought some comfortable walking shoes for the trip!
So, on day three of the San Antonio Stroll, we’d already strolled quite a bit. Day one, shopping at the Round Rock Outlet Mall and walking from the RiverCenter to the Tower of the Americas and back. Day Two, walking the McNay, the King William Walking Tour and the self-directed Riverwalk Margarita Tour. With day three being primarily museums and gardens, I thought a little foot relief would be just the thing.
The Briscoe
Breakfast and The Briscoe
We grabbed breakfast at Whataburger and discovered there was an egg shortage. Not something I’d heard about anywhere else, but some poor fast-food clerk was having to apologize to everyone about it, so I didn’t think she needed my two cents worth also. Therefore we ate some chicken biscuit thing with honey-butter. Not just was the doctor ordered, but sustenance enough until the next meal. As long as I had my Diet Dr. Pepper, I was good.
On to the Briscoe Western Art Museum. I’ve already done a good job of describing the museum here, so no need to do that again – but it was one of those days.
First the eggs, then the museum entrance fee. Last time, I breezed in with my Dallas Museum of Art (DMA) Reciprocal Privileges. The DMA website said I still had them, but the Briscoe had changed its affiliation. To give the Briscoe its due, it did eventually comp my entry, but we had to pay for Deb’s ticket. Not that it was exorbitant, it was the principle of the thing. I’m not sure who to blame, but I’m not happy.
I enjoyed the museum the second time around, but what I liked best was that Deb discovered she likes Western Art. As I’ve said, Deb will pretty much go wherever I want to, but sometimes she’s just going along to be along and that was the case with the Briscoe. Inside she enjoyed the historical perspective of the third floor, but she was blown away by the art on the second floor. Western art has a new fan.
Via the VIA?
After a quick stroll through the gift shop, where we’d have bought several things if money were no object, we headed to the trolley stop. Well nothing was posted, because everything is on your phone – right? Unless you don’t have the latest phone and you can’t get to the right page and even if you could you couldn’t see it in the bright sunlight. (mumbling complaints under my breath). We stood there a few moments pretending a trolley was coming any minute, because I was convinced they came by every ten minutes. Then a passerby dissuaded us from this illusion.
So we tried our handy-dandy doorman, because the bus stop was in front of the hotel. He knew the trolley came by and where, but not when. We went to the concierge and she was having the trouble I had, sans the sunlight. There’s no webpage that says when the trolley comes by the Briscoe Museum stop. (Are you listening VIA?)
Or You Can Walk
We decided to hoof it. Both of us love to walk. The heat was not oppressive, so we set off. The walk was a little over a mile and a half, which took time, but not much effort.
We did connect with the trolley later in the day which allowed us to get much further than we would have gotten on our own four feet, but it wasn’t easy. With no available schedules, we had to find someone who knew the drill to get on the trolley at a stop near The Pearl. Then we’d quiz the bus driver when we got off about when the next trolley would be by. The cost was cheap – but the hassle was high. And speaking of hassle – a day ticket is $4, but you won’t get any change, so have some singles.
Yes, I could have avoided all this hassle (one hopes) by checking with the VIA Information Center, but we all know about hindsight – and I was reminded of the pitfalls of assuming you know what to expect in the future based on past performance. In other words, “Don’t never assume nothing!!”
That’s right, don’t assume anything, but come back next week and we’ll have street tacos at The Pearl.
The Master and Mistress of Ceremonies for Fiesta Noche del Rio in San Antonio
TRAVEL THERE: FABULOUS FIESTA NOCHE DEL RIO
Ya wanna have a good time in San Antonio? Then you hafta go to the Fiesta Noche del Rio. What began as a fundraiser for the local Kiwanas almost six decades ago is now one of the most entertaining evenings you can enjoy in San Antonio.
Our New Favorite Thing on the Riverwalk
We bought our tickets along the Riverwalk the day of the show and then did a little Margarita tasting, I mean sightseeing, before going back and snagging a seat in the Arneson River Theater.
The warm up act was an amazing flamenco guitarist with an acoustical twelve string. He sat on a chair, pulled the guitar into his lap and plucked out beautiful music while providing a stomping percussion with his feet. Absolutely fascinating and very stirring.
Deb recruited for a little audience participation. If they knew what kind of voice she had, they would have had her singing into the microphone instead of just holding it.
Soon the Master and Mistress of Ceremonies came out to lead us through the evening. Both had marvelous voices and a serious dose of fun to share with the audience. They not only led you through the performance, they initiated audience participation and entertained your socks off. When it came to audience participation, you’d have to talk to my bestie and traveling companion, Deb. They participated with her several times.
Musica and Danza
The dance numbers were amazing. How those performers keep from passing out during their routines I have no idea. The weather was actually quite pleasant for those of us merely sitting idle in the amphitheater. For the fast moving, fully-costumed dancers under the lights, it was a whole ‘nother thing. I want to tell you that in spite of the heat, every step was precise and vigorous and their smiles never faded by even a degree.
Beautiful Mariachi music performed by gorgeously costumed musicians was my favorite part.
If you are wondering what kind of music they danced to, then let me ask you this…what kind of music do you like? If you like rap, then you would have been out of luck, but pretty much everything else was there, from the classical flamenco guitar to jazz to country to…well you name it.
My very favorite was the Mariachi. It sounds like happy music to me – even when they sing sad songs. The haunting horns seem to reach down to someplace in my soul. My heritage is as about as Anglophile as you can get, but one of those guys from the Spanish Armada must have something to do with my DNA.
Swirling Skirts
Of course, when the Mariachi’s come out to play, then you also get to see the dancers whirl around in the flowing skirts of their traditional costumes. If I actually tried their thrilling spins, I’d end up on the floor with the skirt wrapped around my head, but as they twirl, I can imagine myself twirling with them and it is glorious.
I could go on with my rapturous description of the evening, but pictures really are worth thousands of words, so enjoy some of the others I took.
After the Fiesta
We strolled down to Durty Nellie’s after the show for a little of their more raucous entertainment, but my dreams were full of throbbing flamenco music and swirling skirts. This was the best money I spent on my vacation, yet it was also one of the smallest ticket prices I’ve ever payed for live entertainment. Do not miss it. It’s really worth going down there just for the show!
Saturday was our museum marathon – and it was a marathon in more ways than one. Come back next week and find out why.
TRAVEL THERE: JUST A COUPLE MORE SAN ANTONIO MARGARITAS BEFORE THE SHOW
After the Margaritas at the Menger Bar, we took ourselves on a tour of the Menger Hotel lobby. They have extensive displays related to the history of the hotel and you can tell from the architecture she’s a grande olde dame of the accommodations world. If you like staying in historic hotels, which I usually do, I’m sure it’s quite a treat, but I’ll be staying at the Contessa for the foreseeable future.
Touring the Menger Hotel
The front of the Menger is graced with a collection of retail establishments. The antique store, which looked amazing, was closed, but we did go into a toy soldier store and an exotic trinket store. When I say toy soldiers, I’m not talking plastic bags of green army men. I’m talking historically-correct, hand-painted metal soldiers. A chapter of Deb’s life is tied to these interesting collectibles, so we usually stroll through establishments that sell them. The exotic trinket store offered interesting junk that has nothing to do with San Antonio, but it was filled with marvelous aromas and Deb found a bracelet she liked.
Dinner at Casa Rio
Our next stop was dinner and for that we went to one of my favorite places, Casa Rio. I’m not going to tell anyone that it’s the best Mexican Food in San Antonio, but it’s still on on my list of favorites. There is something about sitting there on the Riverwalk, drinking Margaritas, eating Tex-Mex and listening to live Mariachis. I’m sure there are several places to do that along the Riverwalk, but this was the first place to offer it a very, very long time ago and it’s one of my San Antonio traditions, just like pictures of The Alamo.
I have to scold them a little bit though, the Margarita was awful, even though we paid a dollar extra to get the premium tequila. Shame on Casa Rio! The food was great though and we are grateful to each person that paid the Mariachis for a song, because we sure as heck weren’t going to fork over $20!
Every time I go to San Antonio I’m reminded of all the things I want to do there that I haven’t quite gotten around to. The Casa Rosa dinner boats are on that list. You need the minimum of ten people to reserve a dinner boat to ply through the waters of the Riverwalk as you eat your tostadas and tamales. I guess that’s a pretty silly thing to want to do, but there you have it, I’m a sucker for a party. I think I’m going to serve Caronas on my boat though. I’m still upset about our awful Margaritas!
Buckhorn Saloon, Museum, Arcade etc. etc. etc.
With dinner out of the way, there was just time to squeeze in one more thing. Deb had gone to the Menger Bar for me, so I wanted to get to the Buckhorn Saloon for her. It was one place she mentioned having an interest in. Now if you’d wanted to visit the original Buckhorn back in 1881, according to my official Centennial edition of their souvenir book, you would have gone to Dolorosa Street. The bar would have been right across the street from the old Southern Hotel.
The Buckhorn Saloon
When I first the Buckhorn, sometime around its Centennial, it was out at the Lone Star Brewery, which is now the San Antonio Museum of Art (SAMA). When the SAMA took over, the Buckhorn had to find a new home. So nowadays, you’ll find it right around the corner from the Majestic Theater, just a hop, skip and a jump from the Riverwalk.
The Buckhorn establishment now has a very long name, because it houses two different museums, a saloon and an arcade, but when Deb and I arrived, the museums had closed for the day and the bar wasn’t yet patronized by the evening crowd. Nonetheless, Deb and I ordered up Margaritas (for the sake of research you understand) and made ourselves at home in the virtually empty bar.
Memories, Margaritas and Rattlesnake Tails
Rattler Tail Art from the Footnotes of the Buckhorn Souvenir Book
As we sat there comparing notes about our previous visits to the Buckhorn over the years, we agreed the museum part of the Buckhorn is a treat for kids – particularly the rattler tail art. I started my visits to the Buckhorn when I was knee-high to a Longhorn steer and Deb brought her sons when they were young. The whole Texas Ranger thing we can’t attest to. We think the Texas Ranger Museum in Waco is the place to go for history of that sort, but you’ll have to follow up on that, because it was now time for the show.
Come back next week and find out about the best $15 dollars we each spent in San Antonio – and it wasn’t on Margaritas.
jane sadek 