San Antonio

There is no concrete reason for why I wanted to go to San Antonio.  I knew nothing about the city other than that it was somewhere in the southwest.
I just liked the sound of the name.
Not a very auspicious starting point, to be sure.  It could have ended with us in a hotel room with a view of a parking structure in the foreground, a Walmart sign in the distance and flat, arid scrubland beyond.
Happily, it was not so.
San Antonio is lush and well-watered (check out the Riverwalk) and exceptionally clean.  Probably the cleanest city I've ever been to in my life.  There was a surprisingly eclectic mix of folks: "remember the Alamo" proud-to-be-an-American Texans; tattooed, pierced hipsters drinking espresso in coffee shops; sandal-wearing, silver-bejewled artists, and Latinos strolling about in cowboy hats and boots.

We stayed in an historic hotel in the center of town where a trio of musicians (bass, piano and drums) played nightly in the lounge and the guests included a large population of army personnel.  They filled the elevators and lounge with their crew cuts, fatigues and "yes ma'am, no ma'am" manners from a by-gone age.

We were charmed.  I know I've said that about places before.  But really, we were thoroughly charmed.  If you can't make it all the way to Budapest, go to San Antonio for a weekend instead.  Unless cleanliness, good manners and reasonable prices do not appeal to you. In that case, go to New York City.

Yeah, once again, way too many photos.  However, since I was kind of a slacker with the last two posts I am overcompensating.
At the risk of sounding like a cry baby, not having internet access at the hotel at which one is staying creates difficulty when trying to maintain continuity with this blog.  It's a travel blog and sometimes the travel part gets in the way of the blogging part.