Summer Vacation

I'm still in summer vacation mode, which means I'm still in news denial. I am aware of what's going out elsewhere in the world, but since there is very little I can do about any of that, I'm keeping my own focus close to home.

My wife and I took another long automobile trip earlier this summer, driving from home in Alexandria to Texas, with stops to see family and friends in Fort Worth, Marble Falls, and Lago Vista, north of Austin. We also spent a few days in San Antonio, which we both consider our home town, even though we and most of the rest of our families have now moved elsewhere.

There's something about San Antonio that I can hardly put into words, but every time I return I'm struck both physically and emotionally by an overpowering feeling of being back where I belong. I know that some part of this reaction comes from the considerable extent to which the places and things that I remember from my youth are still there. Although San Antonio has undergone as much change as most cities its size, there is also much that does not change. Amidst the growth and almost constant renovation there is something familiar in the fabric of the city that lingers. There are also dedicated and fairly persistent and well organized efforts to preserve the look and feel of Old San Antonio. I don't mean La Villita, the well known tourist draw on the river, but the old downtown and many of the older neighborhoods.

The other things I remember are strongly associated with the smells of the city. These I can't really describe, but something in the humid air of San Antonio smells like home. I told my wife when we walked into the lobby of the downtown hotel where we were staying this time that it smelled like home. I suspect it has something to do with the musty smell of the air conditioning that can only barely compete with San Antonio's summer heat and humidity. Outdoors, along the River Walk that winds through the city's downtown, there's a tropical atmosphere permeated with the aroma of flowers and punctuated with the smell of gasoline from the outboard motors powering the river taxis. And then there's the smell of food coming from the restaurants that line the River Walk, Landry's seafood and Texas steakhouses and some of the best Mexican food anywhere north of the border.

Thinking of food, no visit to downtown San Antonio is complete without having at least one meal at Schilo's, an old German Deli that has wonderful split pea soup, dark rye bread, delicious bratwurst, and homemade root beer. It's a substantial lunch on a hot day, but I can never resist. Schilo's is also one of the remaining visual reminders of San Antonio's German past. But there are others scattered about the city, if you know where to look. And that combination of German and Mexican culture seems to have made for an interesting mixture. I often imagine going back and staying, not just a vacation, but going back home.