We’d taken a small siesta, gotten all gussied up and were ready for happy hour. The Cork Bar, on the River level of Hotel Contessa, was a lively place. Last minute guests were arriving for a wedding on the Las Ramblas patio and bridesmaids were being lined up for their entrance. Televisions near the bar were tuned to a horse race. Deb and I ordered up a pair of margaritas, then settled in to enjoy the activity.
Vicarious Wedding Guests Watch Acrobatic Nap Demo
The wedding was our first focus. San Antonio is a big military town, so we weren’t surprised that most of the men in the wedding party wore uniforms – and impressive uniforms they were. We didn’t know the groom, of course, but he had to be a tough guy just to carry around all those medals on his chest. The bride was lovely, but being unable to hear through the glass wall of the bar, we soon brought our attention into our immediate surroundings.
We chatted about how much we loved the hotel, how great the service was – especially the doormen and commented on the decor. About that time a woman came down and tried out a large upholstered bench close to us. She was in town with her adult son and joked about the luxury of not having to take him to the potty as she had when he was young. After several attempts at sitting on the bench in different positions she decided the appropriate one for enjoying that particular piece of furniture was to lay down, but she didn’t want her son to catch her. So her little nap was only a couple of minutes long.
The Triple Crown
The wedding continued, but we recognized quite a buzz around the bar. Someone had turned up the sound on the TV. We were almost irritated until we figured out it was the Belmont Stakes and American Pharoah was poised to win The Triple Crown. The last time anyone had done that was back in the 1970’s.
As the pre-race coverage gave us the background stories leading up to the Belmont Stakes, Deb and I reminisced about our own horse racing experiences. Chief among mine were George and Ruth, my very Baptist parents who followed the Triple Crown religiously every year, “betting” on who would win. Soon the newly married bride and groom, led their guests to a mezzanine nearby, but we noticed several guests lagged behind. It was almost race time.
American Pharaoh was a clear favorite, but the commentators hedged their bets by pointing out potential spoilers. American Pharaoh would have none of that. When the gate opened she was out and away. No one even got close. It was a thrilling outcome. When the race was over, the wedding guests made their way up to the mezzanine and the others in the crowd wandered away. Dinner time was upon us.
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!
There’s more than one reason I have a blast traveling with my bestie. One of the benefits I truly enjoy is her encyclopedic knowledge of movies and TV – especially movies and TV she enjoyed with her boys. Since I didn’t have kids at all and tend to know more about concierges than coneheads, I can be seriously entertained by things most everyone else already knew. Enter the sculpture garden at the McNay.
You can usually tell what is most important to me on a trip, because I will schedule it first on the agenda if at all possible. That’s why the McNay Art Museum was our Friday morning destination. As we pull into the beautiful grounds of the wonderful museum, Deb says, “Incoming message from the big giant head.” This made no sense whatsoever to me. Yes, there was a large sculpture of Marion Koogler McNay‘s head there on the lawn, but what was that “incoming message” stuff about?
That’s when I got a lesson on sci-fi sitcoms. Most of you don’t need an explanation, so I’ll leave it at that. We arrived a few minutes before the museum opened which gave us some time to explore the garden. Deb posed before the big giant head in the appropriate stance and we captured a few of the other lovely sites on the grounds.
Welcome to Sunset Hills
Getting to Know Marion Koogler McNay
Though I’ve mentioned the McNay before, I’ve never really told you how wonderful it is. Marion Koogler McNay was a patron of the arts and one of her husbands (she had several) built her a palace in what was once a rural area outside San Antonio. Now the estate is just minutes from downtown, surrounded by accouterments of the bustling metropolis. Learning more about the heiress’ life is just one of a plethora of reasons to visit the McNay.
Ms. McNay is one of those people who had everything other people want, but was denied the one thing she really wanted. Over the years as I’ve visited the museum, I’ve learned tidbits about her life and it is a haunting story.
Born in Ohio, to a family with money, she was exposed to great art at a very young age and it captured her heart. She was one of the first to collect works of Impressionism, which led to an appreciation of the schools which followed it, like Cubism and Fauvism. But the modern art of her day was not her only interest. She collected religious images from the Middle Ages and classic sculpture also. She was an artist in her own right and played a role in the artistic community of Taos New Mexico.
But all she really loved was Don McNay. She was still quite young when the pair met and married. Though she was well-to-do, her husband was not. He was just a soldier who was about to be posted to an assignment on the Texas-Mexico border. She came along and they lived very happily in a very modest house near his posting. In spite of her affluent upbringing, this was the best time of her life.
Unfortunately it was not happily ever after. Don was reassigned and shortly after leaving the border area, he died from the Spanish Influenza epidemic. Ms. McNay had not followed him on his second assignment, but settled in San Antonio, where the two had honeymooned on their way to the border town. There were other homes and other husbands, but her heart would always belong to Don.
From the courtyard
One of her husbands built this beautiful mansion, called Sunset Hills, for her, and even though she made it a beacon of art and beauty for others, she had sad experiences there. It took years to build the complex residence and when it was done, our country had fallen into the Depression. She held a gala housewarming, but the pictures of it seem to echo with disappointment, rather than glee. In just a few years her marriage ended and she took back Don’s surname as her own. I can imagine her walking the halls of her beautiful home wishing she could trade it all for just a little more time with the love of her life, Don McNay.
The McNay Today
Though her own life was sad, she brought opportunity and great art to San Antonio for others to enjoy. A visit to the McNay to learn more about Marion and enjoy Sunset Hills is more than enough reason to make the pilgrimmage, but on top of it all is the art – some of it hanging on the walls, other items actually a part of the walls, like the beautiful mosaic in the courtyard.
Membership having its privileges, Deb and I got in for free, thanks to my membership at the DMA. Then we began to roam the museum enjoying first the permanent collection, then wandering back to the theater area for some special exhibitions out there. One was called “All the Rage in Paris” and it had posters, costumes and other artifacts from the days of the Ballet Russe in Paris. What and interesting and beautiful collection!
While visiting the museum we watched a video on Ms. McNay’s life, which reminded me of some of the things I’d learned about her. We also relaxed in the courtyard. I love that courtyard so much that there is even a chance that I actually go there for the fountain and mosaics rather than the art. (Don’t tell anyone! I’m still trying to impress people with my art appreciation skills.) The museum also has a whimsical and wonderful gift shop, but I managed to leave without buying anything this time.
After a couple of hours, it was unfortunately time to move on. We had many plans for our day and lunch at the Guenther House was one of them. Come back next week and find out about Champagne Chicken Enchildas! In the meantime, enjoy a few more pictures of the McNay.
The view at Chart House atop the Tower of the Americas
TRAVEL THERE: SAN ANTONIO’S CHART HOUSE RESTAURANT
If there is one thing I hate, it’s a reviewer that can’t find anything good to say about any place they stay or eat. I wasn’t loving the place we stayed the first night in San Antonio, but I wasn’t going to let that color the rest of my experience.
Going with the Flow
I was the one who wanted to stay in a cheap hotel, but I had high hopes for the rest of the stay. One of the reasons I’d opted for the first night in a bargain was because I really didn’t expect to arrive in San Antonio until late that night, but travel is really all about dealing with change.
I’d expected sight-seeing in Austin, another town I love, but taking the tollway just got me to my favorite city a little faster. Having a meal in the Tower of the Americas had been on my list for a long time and the change in plans gave me the opportunity to do just that.
The Way It Was Before
Way back in the summer of 1968, on a family visit to the Hemisfair, we did not have dinner in the tower. If memory serves me right, I’m pretty sure we didn’t pay the price of ride up the elevator either. I think something like that would have stuck with me. I remember the wonder of walking through all of the amazing pavilions and adored the Institute of Texan Cultures, but all my memories of the tower are from the ground looking up.
In subsequent visits other things kept me from visiting the tower:
budget
bad reviews of the restaurant
not enough time
traveling companions who thought it was a tourist trap
I thought that the “not enough time” issue might come into play on this trip, too. I always have so many favorite things to return to in San Antonio that it’s hard to find time try new experiences. Arriving hours before I expected to, paved the way for an experience I’d wanted to have for a long time.
The Way It Was This Time
With a map, instructions from the hotel clerk and a GPS we set out for downtown San Antonio. Just as the clerk promised we found parking at RiverCenter Mall with no trouble. Somewhere inside my head is a map of the Riverwalk, but it always takes a little while for that map to sync with all the development around the popular attraction. We could see the tower and my mind told me where we should go, but we kept running into obstacles that my old mental map didn’t know about.
It didn’t help that the “You Are Here” map provided by the city next to the river did not have the promised red dot telling me where we were. Still it was only a minor irritation, because I followed my gut around the obstacles and soon recognized we were on the Hemisfair grounds – then all we had to do was look up.
The tower at night
If I was ever in San Antonio with time to kill, I think I’d kill some of it just enjoying Hemisfair Plaza. It’s a very pretty place, but I had my eye on the top of the tower. There was a booth selling elevator rides and the ticket salesmen pointed us to the other side of the tower for the Chart House Restaurant. We sidled up to the desk and asked if they had room for us. To my great joy, they did.
We had to walk back around the tower to the elevator, but this time we were inside. After a short wait and a quick conversation with a couple of guys who were also on their way to dinner, we arrived. From the picture above, you can tell that it was a pretty spectacular experience. The view alone was amazing. The restaurant was also nice.
I’ve been in Dallas’s Hyatt Regency Reunion Tower and the Westin’s Peachtree Plaza Tower in Atlanta, so I can tell you that the experiences are very similar. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out that the same architect designed them all. I can also tell you that this was not just a me-too experience. San Antonio is a town very different from Dallas and Atlanta. The spontaneous opportunity turned into a evening I won’t forget for a long time.
We were not seated immediately, but that was OK. We hadn’t had reservations and it was obvious that a lot of other people did. What was not OK, was that if I was going to wait I would have liked to enjoy a drink. The hostess pointed us at several groupings of leather chairs and told us to wait. I assumed it would be a short wait. There was an observation deck above, which may or may not have had a bar, but if I’d known we’d be cooling our heels for a while I would have at least gone exploring.
Still, I wasn’t an unpleasant experience. I sat in the big comfy leather sofa and enjoyed the view. I also enjoyed the arriving dinner patrons. Many were dressed to the nines, suggesting the meal was a special event. The restaurant was also recovering from a big busload of diners. Observing them go down the elevator in batches of a dozen was somewhat interesting.
After the noisy bus tour was back on the ground, a sort of calm settled of the restaurant and I smelled a fragrance I couldn’t at first identify. I pointed it out to Deb and we agreed it wasn’t a food smell and kept trying to guess what it was. Saddle Soap!! The leather sofas had been recently cleaned with saddle soap. There was no residue and the fragrance was subtle, but I enjoyed the little smell association game. Finally, they seated us.
Seated at the Top of San Antonio
We were looking north-ish when we first sat down – sort of toward our lovely Microtel. Not that we could pick it out from up there. As the evening played out we enjoyed the view until we were south-ish, but by then the city had disappeared into the darkness and all we could see was the lights. One disappointment was that you cannot see the Alamo for the big Marriot which is attached to the RiverCenter. That would have been quite wonderful.
What was wonderful was the food. The prices were a little steep. Not that they were expensive for what they offered, they were just more than I usually pay for a meal. We made choices around the outskirts of the menu, not so much for the cost, but because that’s what sounded good. And of course, we ordered Margaritas!
I started with Lobster Bisque – thick, creamy and delicious – just the way I like it. It was not the best I’d ever had, but it was a treat. Deb chose a salad and it was HUGE. Our next course was side orders – sauteed mushrooms, asparagus and an OMG order of Lobster Mac & Cheese. Good thing Deb and I had decreed that nothing had any calories during this entire weekend, otherwise we would have just scored about two days worth of them. OH – and we had a souffle for dessert. My mouth and stomach were in heaven and the view was out of this world.
Farewell to a lovely experience.
Since this trip was my belated birthday celebration, when we met Cousin Brenda she had a belated birthday present for me. Along with some lovely fragrance gifts for my house, she also gave me one of those gift cards you can use for whatever you want. What I wanted was dinner at the Tower of the Americas. Thank you Brenda. We didn’t have to wash dishes to leave the tower.
Maneuvering back to the car was no problem. My internal map had synced with the city. We did have an adventure getting back to the hotel. First the GPS couldn’t figure out where we were when we left the parking lot and then there was the back road approach to the hotel, but all’s well that ends well – right?
Our next stop? The McNay! You’re going to love it, so come back next week.
The lovely picnic area, right next to the rusting dirt movers!
TRAVEL THERE: MICROTEL SAN ANTONIO NORTHEAST A DANGEROUS BARGAIN
We all know that if it’s too good to be true, then it’s probably not true – and with few exceptions, you get exactly what you pay for. Deb and I wanted a cheap hotel for our first night in San Antonio and that’s exactly what we got, so no surprise here.
Decision Path to Disaster
Now I’m not so cheap or adventurous that I’d purposely stay in an awful hotel, but I will look for bargains. In fact, I’d first planned to stay somewhere in San Marcos or New Brunsfel, but all the reviews of their bargain hotels made it sound as if these hotels had served one too many drunk river rafters – dirty and smelly being the biggest clue.
But I know Microtel. I’ve stayed at several of them and they have all been great. They weren’t always the latest and greatest, but you got a lot for not so much dough and they were clean. Enter Microtel Inn & Suites by Wyndham San Antonio Northeast. I know, for $45 a night in San Antonio I should have figured out there was a problem, but I didn’t.
How about a cookout?
Maybe our first clue should have been how difficult it was to find. On the map it looked as if it would be easy to get to, but maps can be deceiving, because what’s in a convenient place might be hard to reach. Our GPS had to take us around and around and around until we finally broke a few laws and made it to the parking lot. Then there was a sigh of relief. The outside looked as if it had been freshly painted and the landscaping was under control. The cars all looked as if they were driven by people with a sense of propriety and the lobby was nice.
Checking In
There was one couple ahead of us in line, but I was more interested in the breakfast bar than I was this anonymous couple. That was until I figured out who they were. He was a rugged type, with a beard that was a day or two old. He was wearing a black t-shirt with “The Trucker’s Prayer” emblazoned on the back. I found that to be at least a little bit interesting, because they’d arrived in a crossover van. It didn’t seem as if English was his first language. In comparison, his companion was a beautiful young woman with cafe au lait skin. Her hair was in a semi up-do. She had on great shoes and a cute short set with very, very short-shorts which showed off a pair of perfect legs. She flashed me a great smile.
And that small blue awning across the parking lot. That’s over the pool with it’s great view of the highway.
Though I was not listening carefully, I figured out that the clerk was trying to explain the hotel’s cash policy to the man. If you pay cash, you have to leave a $50 deposit at the desk. When you’re through with your stay, they inspect the room to make sure everything is OK and then you get your $50 back. It seemed reasonable on the surface and then the woman cooed, “Just put it on your credit card, baby.” Something clicked in my brain and I figured out what most of you had already realized. This was a hooker with her john. That made them very interesting.
The conversation went on for a few more clicks, but the baby was not going to put it on his credit card and the Microtel wasn’t going to change their policy, so eventually the pair left. The funniest thing was that the female half of the pair turned around at the door and said, “We’ll be back,” in her outdoor voice. I want you to know I do not hold this episode against the Microtel. They can’t help who walks in the front door and they had a policy in place to keep that kind of stuff at bay.
Unloading
The clerk was very nice to us and very helpful with suggestions and directions to the Riverwalk. It also wasn’t the hotel’s fault that I don’t drive those luggage carts real well. Deb helped me load our bags and walked ahead to open the door. Unfortunately, the cart decided it was more interested in the swimming pool than it was the interior of the hotel. Nice clerk person appeared out of nowhere and got me going in the right direction.
The clerk had given us the very first room past the lobby, so that gave me a pretty secure feeling. Deb stuck her card in the door, but it took both of us to shove the door open. Whoever chose the carpet, which was still pretty new, had selected a style that was too deep for the door. Each trip in and out was like a tiny weight resistance session.
We didn’t pay much attention to anything else, because we were ready to head to the Riverwalk. More about that later, but coming back to the hotel AFTER the Riverwalk, now that was an adventure. The hotel is in a sort or industrial area, which is part of the reason it’s so hard to reach. The GPS on my phone discovered another way to get there on the return trip. We exited and the GPS told us to take a street that on any other occasion we would have avoided, but the GPS showed that it was the most direct route. We feared a repeat of our earlier around the world experience, so we ignored those little voices in our head and crossed into no man’s land – or maybe I should say no-woman’s land.
The narrow two lane street had thick vegetation on each side and at a certain point the vegetation gave way to junk yards and re-cycling centers wrapped in chain link fences – or at least that’s what it looked like. The road got very rough and suddenly it felt like the car had fallen into the Grand Canyon. Deb kept right on driving and said, “If we get a flat, I’m gonna keep on driving. We’ll just worry about it in the morning.”
We didn’t have a flat and, with the exception of that too-thick carpet, had no other troubles getting to our beds. We were soon happily asleep. Now I know the Microtel can’t be responsible for the condition of the streets around it, especially small back-roads the GPS decides you should take and they certainly can’t help who walks in the front door, but the odds were starting to stack up against them nonetheless.
Morning Ministrations
The Yuck Factor
Mornings for me mean a bubble bath and that’s when the real trouble started – nasty tub corners. When it comes to the hotels and motels of this world, I consider cleanliness my primary concern. I laugh my way through bad decor, small rooms, rude desk clerks – in fact most of the foibles that you can run into, but you better be clean. This is where the Microtel missed the mark.
Really?
Then there was the hair dryer. I guess they must have a problem with losing hair dryers, so now they hard-wire them in place. I can understand that, but did they have to cover up the other plug. I had to wander around the room looking for another plug with a line of sight to a mirror, because I needed some curling iron therapy to cope with my wild hair. (I don’t blame the Microtel for my wild hair either. I explained all that a few posts ago.)
The nasty tub corners sort of ruined my stay, but I got cleaned up and we headed to the breakfast bar for a bite, anyway. Like most of the things we’d experienced at the Microtel, the breakfast bar was more than decent. They had boiled eggs, which I like, and an assortment of other things, so it more than satisfied the need at hand. The morning clerk was a grandmotherly sort and that really made me want to like this hotel better, but the specter of the nasty tub corners couldn’t be erased.
More yuck!
Deb and I have a certain cure for everything. It’s called laughter. We started to enjoy all the little quirks we found. We even went outside and shot these pictures so you too could enjoy our stay.
Come back next week and I’ll tell you all about our dinner at the Tower of the Americas – but don’t stay at Microtel Inn & Suites by Wyndham San Antonio Northeast, unless grime is your friend.
jane sadek 