Houston wasn't exactly as engaging as I thought it would be. Well, the tough schedule, that prevented us from delving the city, was partly to blame for it. The rest would probably be consisted of their sick freeways, stupid street signs, and perilous construction sites. The city might have lacked appeal to me, but its outskirts were definitely, um, interesting.
It was time to exchange driving duties for the boys, as I volunteered to get us some blizzards and onion rings. DQ was easily spotted from the freeway, in the midst of a town seemingly composed of people severely alienated from the colored world. The old lady looked stunned when I opened my mouth and sounded as if I've been living here as long as she has. She was subtlety hostile. Never smiled, even when she did that wacky thing with the blizzards. She obviously wasn't colorblind. But I quickly disposed the nuisance after enjoying my treat. Thank God she wasn't racist enough to poison us.
So, we checked in, dove in our beds, and watched basketball to sleep. It was such an exhausting trip that we weren't even worried about going elsewhere the following day. But my dad had plans of going to San Antonio the next morning, and we just couldn't resist to convoy. It was yet another road trip. Literally. I probably spent more time sitting on my ass than my entire sojourn down there. I wouldn't complain if the view was anything close to my LA-to-Vegas escapade, but it's remotely not! Especially when I would see a house clad with black and white posters saying "Go Spurs! Go!" every once in two minutes.
As cued by Mark Cuban's past criticisms, I expected The Riverwalk to be similar to the bad area of Manila Bay. You know, that part where entrepreneurs gutted restaurants and grills infront of, while there were vacationing used diapers on the shores, and the water smelling like shit. But to Cuban's rare inaccuracy, Riverwalk wasn't anything like it. Although the water wasn't exactly appealing, at least the smell wasn't puke-worthy enough to drive us out of our Texas-sized appetites.
Apparently, you also have to check out The Alamo if you're a virginal tourist in that part of the state. I wasn't necessarily interested because I think, I've already had enough of stories about Magellan and Lapu-Lapu, that these they-saved-our-nation museums and apologue don't juice anymore interest from me. But it was refreshing to go in there. It was so hot in San Antonio that I wouldn't overlook any chances of getting into cemented buildings. Even if it means locking myself in a room of smelly armpits. Yes, it was that hot.
Some random camwhorage with mother. At the River, and after shopping for fridge magnets.
Then we went home that same day. (Sorry Laureen, I passed by New Braunfels, squealed even "I have a friend living right there," finger pointed at that lone freeway that probably leads to your location, but I didn't have enough time to see you. I'll be back though, and I swear, I'll leave you my number the next time.) We then went to this parochial community headed by my dad's high school professor. It's one of those crowded get-togethers, where there's Wowowee on TV, some dried fish's odor sprinting up your nostrils, and a variety of Filipino dialects in every corner of the place. It was social nightmare to the nth degree!! If it weren't just for my dad, I would totally act like those girls from Sweet 16. Seriously. Who wants to get trapped inside a bungalow, congested by eyebrow-raising Filipinos, all asking you the exact same thing, as if griping you to admit that you're a probinsyana just like they once were. "Do you still speak Te-geh-leg?" I'm so sorry, but that question irritates the fuck out of me. Especially when I came in to that very door greeting everyone in sight with a polite (and required) mano to my forehead (even with no clue wherever that hand may have been!) and "Magandang Gabi Po." And they dare ask me if I still spoke Te-geh-leg? If the function wasn't just facilitated by priests, I would have smacked back with a, "Tangek, Manila girl ako!"
So anyway, that's about it. It still boggles me how updating this blog now takes a lot from my time. Maybe because the semester's drawing to an end (translation: more work than usual), or maybe because the playoffs are here and Rafa's hopefully on his way to another unbeaten clay court season. Hay, there's so much going on that I can't even find time to shave my mustache. Ok, that was a joke. But hey, I hope you guys had a terrific week yourselves. Thanks for still dropping by despite my recent lag in your respective comment boxes. I promise to see you around soon. :)