Have you ever spent a Christmas season in New York City? No? Then my suggestion to you, if you love a good old-fashioned Christmas complete with all the fixins’, is to spend a few days in the Big Apple when the spirit of the Christmas season is at its apex. There is nothing else that compares. I promise.
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Are you yearning for the open seas? A vista complete with swaying palm trees and exotic lands? Someplace that isn’t here (where you are at the moment)?
Then grab a cup of coffee and settle down with your computer for at least 45 minutes. You are about to go on an adventure, a cruise, the first cruise you should take before booking your real cruise.
Your first port of call? Vacations To Go.
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Some of us call it urban blight, some of us call it street soul, some of us call it a shame, while others of us simply call it, “beautiful.”
Is there a city or town in the world that doesn’t sport its share of graffiti? Our city in central Alberta is no different. And while our city has sent out its graffiti-removal brigade, thank goodness the cleaning squad hasn’t found all of it. This artwork, with its nasty invectives and racial slurs, especially viewed against the backdrop of the setting sun, can be very intriguing.
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At first blush, I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to be “going back to Houston,” like the old pop song advocates. This massive city struck me as cold and impersonal, and sadly lacking in human energy. Houston, we have a problem.
But that was before I found the Red Cat Jazz Cafe.
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San Antonio, Texas is, simply put, one heck of a great vacation destination. It is family-friendly, it is easy to navigate, it offers many activities and adventures, and there are no crowds right after Labor Day. But even when there are crowds (like on the Labor Day weekend), San Antonio is a must-see. And, a caution here, a couple of days just won’t be enough time.
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(An early morning view of the beautiful Mission San Jose in San Antonio’s Missions National Park.)
Thank you, Hurricane Gustav. We are sitting high and dry in one of the loveliest cities in North America, San Antonio. We are supposed to be in New Orleans. But thanks to a little convincing by Gustav and American officials, we changed our plans.
On the day we were set to arrive in NOLA, evacuation orders forced nearly two million folks to leave the southern seaboard. We had planned a holiday riding the rails, the Amtrak rails, but the trains were needed to take people out of New Orleans, so Amtrak cancelled our reservations.
We were in Houston (another area slated to be hit by Gustav) so we had no choice but to rent a car and head north to San Antonio. In fact, on our way, we passed a convoy of 2 dozen buses that were heading south on a rescue mission. Later, on TV, we watched as an endless line of buses, filled with those folks escaping the storm, headed away to safer zones like Dallas and Houston.
Now we are watching as the eye of Gustav makes landfall — the good news, maybe, for New Orleans, is that the eye will be passing farther to the west than expected.
But in the meantime, we are in San Antonio, where we have rented a comfortable house, we have walked the famous Riverwalk, we have ridden the canal boats, we have paid homage to the Alamo, and we have made an early morning trek to the old Spanish missions. What a joy!
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I felt a pang, no, a pain, that swept through me in an instant as I beheld the old decrepit building with its weathered facade and its old-fashioned architectural detals. The pain was one of nostalgia, a yearning of things long gone, things that made my childhood magical, things that most children will never understand in today’s fast food world.
Except for my grandkids.
As long as I can walk and talk, as long as I can get into a car, and pack them along with me, my grandchildren will be introduced to my past, my heritage — a heritage in danger of disappearing altogether under the pressures of weather, urban sprawl, industry, and . . . time.
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My husband and I celebrated our 21st wedding anniversary yesterday. Our formal plans had us dining at a very cool eatery called “The Bootlegger Italian Bistro,” in South Las Vegas. We had eaten there when we first arrived in Vegas and thought it would be a nice place, with its classic old gangster ambience, to have our anniversary dinner.
But our plans changed. Vegas has a way of doing that to plans. So, we cancelled our reservations in favor of another place. And we are so glad we did. We had one of our best times yet in Las Vegas.
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I rode the Las Vegas monorail today; it runs along the backyards of Vegas’s giant hotels, all the way from the MGM to the Safari.
From its windows, you can see things you wouldn’t ordinarily glimpse from the Strip, like pools, and lounge chairs, and tanned bodies in tiny swimsuits, and white towels, and — wait a minute! — why are so many of those lounge chairs EMPTY?
Come to think of it, the traffic on the strip seems much lighter than I remember. The casinos seem quieter and less crammed. And the buffet restaurant lines are shorter, or even non-existent.
Where are the people? It’s the middle of summer. Shouldn’t this top American vacation destination be overflowing with visitors? I am curious, so I ask around.
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Are you planning a trip to that Mecca of Nevada: Las Vegas? Maybe you have never visited this city of bright lights and money-grabbing slots, or maybe you haven’t been there in awhile.
The good news? Many things haven’t changed.
The better news? Many things have changed. Especially at the airport and at the car rental building.
Read on . . .
