Feb. 19, 2003 If you’re interested in experiencing culture shock, try starting at The Alamo and landing shortly thereafter in Cajun country. The neighboring states of Texas and Louisiana are as different as night and day. If the switch from Spanish to French doesn’t throw you for a loop, the culinary changes will. After finishing […]
Feb. 18, 2003 I came into San Antonio during evening hours, having fallen prey to the magic of Luckenbach earlier in the day and, even after that, spending time in the German immigrant town of Boerne. The drive between Boerne and San Antonio is all-too-familiar to me, and I must say I much prefer it
Feb. 2, 2003 The road was dusty and deserted, without a car in sight. Gentle, rolling hills stretched out in every direction. I looked around, leaned against a barbed wire fence to peer at a lone sign. I supposed it made sense, with a posted population of three, that I wouldn’t see anyone on this
Feb. 1, 2003 I headed east along Interstate 10, my map resting on the passenger seat. It wasn’t long before I began to feel the lure of the Hill Country calling me. Since my only other Hill Country experience involved a new engine for the car and a cast on my left hand, it seemed
Jan. 30, 2003 I climbed the steep ascent on the one mile loop trail, listening for the sounds of men returning from hunting mule deer, women carrying corn, squash and beans home from nearby fields and young children singing or listening to story-telling. I strained to hear the gossip young girls might be telling while
December 16, 2002 I had one of my worst anxiety attacks ever on the road when I cruised into Pigeon Forge, TN. My preconceptions of quiet Smoky Mountain life went right out the window with the bumper to bumper traffic. Crowds, noise, congestion, partygoers leaning over balconies, and a mass menagerie of chain hotels sent
December 14, 2002 In the midst of the Appalachian foothills, I made my way into Jonesborough, Tennessee’s oldest town. Here I came across the Historic Eureka Inn, located conveniently in town on Main St., the old Stage Road. This lodging establishment is a treasure of a find for anyone who appreciates restored, historic lodging, not
December 8, 2002 I decided years ago that I would celebrate each birthday with a trip to a new destination. Maybe a seaside cottage or a rustic mountain cabin. Perhaps an old western hotel room or a rejuvenating desert oasis. It didn’t really matter where I went, only that I treated myself to a
Nov. 22, 2002 Ponce de Leon probably didn’t envision ghost tours, chocolate factories or fine dining and lodging when he claimed Florida for Spain in 1513. Nor is it likely that Pedro Menendez sipped cappuccino and nibbled on a pecan sticky bun when he landed in St. Augustine, Florida, with 700 soldiers and colonists in
Nov. 16, 2002 I arrived in Santa Fe at night, landing by chance at Dancing Ground of the Sun, an inn convenient for explorations the next morning. Bearing a name used by Native Americans long ago to identify what is now Santa Fe, this lodging was walking distance from The Plaza. I checked in, found