Randol’s Redux

Well alright.  I’m posting this to the blog on Monday, May 21.  This is the recap of the account for Saturday, May 19.  Big day.  The last post is of Saturday which documents the visit to Mamou in the morning.  this post is the story of Saturday evening, after Mass and on the prowl for more Cajun – I’ll copy and paste below, the last paragraph of the last post (sans the first sentence) and carry on from there.  Doing it this way is(easier on the continuity.  Here goes.

“Off to 4PM Mass and then out to search for more music.  I intend to get back to the Jefferson Street venues I know from two years ago and thanks to Kamal I have other leads.  Alas, the Jefferson venues don’t pan out.  One is demolished and replaced by a new modern building and the other is now a comedy venue.  I perhaps didn’t copy the address Kamal gave me; Lady Garmin leads me to an auto repair shop and the other is too far out of town.  I know one place for sure and I go there: Rodale’s.  Same place, another band.  Not much time here, they close down at 10PM and it’s 9:30PM.  But the band leader is excellent and he’s pure Acadian. A very nice guy.  He sees my interest and we meet.  And talk.  More on this event in the next post.  Hop in shotgun for that.  Allons.”

Allons indeed.  Back at Rodale’s.  Redux.  It’s now (Tempus Fugit again, delayed) 9:30PM and I have only a half hour to enjoy the new band.  It’s Lee Benoit on the accordion leading his band in gloriosky (sic) Cajun.  I order a bottle of Yeagling beer and sit down to enjoy the music.  And I get a chance to record for my family, short vignette videos of what’s going on here.  It seems I’ve discovered this morning in Mamao that I can send off what I can’t upload to WordPress here: less than 30-second versions of my recorded smartphone videos to others on my cell phone.  Hooray.  I take the time to do it this evening.

And I record some long sessions on my camera as well.  Can’t show them to you here, so anyway here’s a description of what went on in this little half hour.  Sorry, because of this WordPress blog, stills only.

The huge dinner and dancing crowd from last night is not here.  And besides the band, it’s all younger folks.  Here’s some of them dancing, two on two.

And the band.

Lee Benoit notices my interest and we talk.  I engage and he tells me about himself.  Singing Cajun and playing his accordion for all his time, he’s a classic.  Singing is his strong suit and he belts out these Cajun tunes all so very well.  Can’t upload my video of him (you’ll have to come to my house), but what follows is an earlier, much earlier, version of him and his accompanists.

Please see: http://www.leebenoit.com/

Here we are, Lee and me, a photo of our first meeting and hopefully of a  long-standing relationship.  Godspeed Lee.  Nice to meet you, hope to see you again.  Well . . . . perhaps in heaven when we can fiddle and play accordion together.

Okay then.  It’s now Sunday and I have yet to record driving from Lafayette to Baton Rouge.  Today being Sunday, it was to be a day of rest.  But getting here to this very comfortable Comfort Inn, I have to record what went on today; the wonderful welcome here me, the Cane’s Festival at their Mississippi riverfront.

Day of rest?  Not so.  Got here and got into it again.  More tomorrow, about today  Stay tuned.  It’s now late in the day.  C’est tout.  For now.

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Cajun Music at Mamou

I’m publishing this post on Sunday, but it really describes my visit yesterday to Mamou, Louisiana to enjoy some Cajun music.  Yesterday’s date was May 19, 2018.

As I enter the venue I see that they’re speaking a lot of French, in addition to English.  The folks in the band are more French than the band and the people at Randol’s on Saturday night.  I presume the singing accordion guy and the announcer (the whole performance is broadcast on the radio), both of whom do all the talking and singing are Acadians.

So . . . to get acclimated we need a basic French lesson.  The following are common French phrases and words, how they’re pronounced and in English, the translation or explanation/description.

Ça c’est bon (Sa say bohn):  That’s good.

Cajun (cay-jun): Slang for Acadians, the French-speaking people who migrated to South Louisiana from Nova Scotia in the eighteenth century. Cajuns were happily removed from city life preferring a rustic life along the bayous. The term now applies to the people, the culture, and the cooking.

Allons (Al lohn): Let’s go.

Andouille (ahn-do-ee): A spicy country sausage used in Gumbo and other Cajun dishes.

Bon Appetit! (bon a-pet-tite’): Good appetite – or “Enjoy!”

Boudin (boo-dan): Hot, spicy pork mixed with onions, cooked rice, herbs, and stuffed in sausage casing.

Cayenne (ky-yen): A hot pepper that is dried and used to season many Louisiana dishes.

C’est tout (Say too):  That’s all.

Creole (cree-ol): The word originally described those people of mixed French and Spanish blood who migrated from Europe or were born in Southeast Louisiana and lived as sophisticated city or plantation dwellers. The term has expanded and now embraces a type of cuisine and a style of architecture.

Gumbo (gum-boe): A thick, robust roux-based soup sometimes thickened with okra or file’. There are thousands of variations, such as shrimp or seafood gumbo, chicken or duck gumbo, okra and file’ gumbo.

Jambalaya (jum-bo-lie-yah): Louisiana chefs “sweep up the kitchen” and toss just about everything into the pot. A rice dish with any combination of beef, pork, fowl, smoked sausage, ham, or seafood, as well as celery, green peppers and often tomatoes.

Joie de vivre (Jhwa da veev):  Joy of living.

Merci (Mare see): Thanks.

Po-Boy: A sandwich extravaganza that began as a five-cent lunch for poor boys. Always made with French bread, po-boys can be stuffed with fried oysters, shrimp, fish, crawfish, meatballs, smoked susage and more.

Praline (praw-leen):  The sweetest of sweets, this is a candy patty made of sugar, cream and pecans.

Roux (rue):  Base of gumbos or stews, made of flour and oil mixture.

Zydeco (zi-de-co):  A relatively new kind of Creole dance music that is a combination of traditional Cajun dance music, R&B, and African blues.

The visit.  Allons.  The clever-with-a-smartphone lady the night before is, after I tell her how much I like the music, telling me to make sure I get up to Mamou to see the Saturday-morning-only music performance.  It goes from 8:30 to 11:30AM.  She says it’s a good jaunt but is very unique.  I’m not sure I understand what she means by unique, her group is leaving and she says ‘Good luck”.  Regardless I promise I’ll be there.

Now it’s early Saturday.  It turns out to be a 50-some mile drive Lafayette o Mamou and it is way in the boonies.  Partly interstate but at least half on some very bad country roads that are sorely in need of basic maintenance, like patching potholes with asphalt.  These roadways are just all worn out,  On the way there’s a small herd of grazing beef cattle, a rare sight in rural Louisiana.

Arriving in downtown Mamou.  Small burg.  And here’s Fred’s Lounge.  Must be legendary.  It sports a historical plaque.

Inside, they started without me.  It’s 9AM  I was up early; alarm set at 6AM.  But as usual, dawdled.  Tempus Fugit.  Here’s the band led by the guy with the accordion and the drummer in a too-backlit photo.

The music is over the top.  The accordion guy and the fiddler are intense.  Ca c’est Cajun.  Ca c’est bon.

People participating in the fun with lots of two-person dancing going on.  No line dancing here; not much room for it.  The one room comprises of the bar, tables and chairs, the dancing spaces and the what might be call a floor-level stage.  The whole room could fit many times into the Rondal’s music hall.  The guy in the plaid shirt and his gal are the most accomplished.  Both are graceful and smooth.

So after an hour of music, the radio announcer leads a Q&A on where everyone is from.  First cities in Louisiana.  All the big ones and small ones.  there’s a prize for the furthest.  Then USA.  Mostly southern states.  I get up and holler CLEVELAND OHIO.  Applause.  Turns out no one can best that.  I win the category first prize.  I go up to accept, tip my cap and tell the announcer to say in the microphone: “Google petesbigadventure”.  He does.  More applause.  I tip my my cap again to recognize.  More applause.  I was SO cool!

Potty break.  It out the back door to the outside and an unlocked mensroom.  Nothing is really modern at this establishment including the badly-rusted porcelain-coated cast iron urinal.  This thing is ancient.   The sign on the door going back in is posted with a dated message.

Well that’s about it. Come 11:30 I’m outta here.  A wonderful Saturday morning experience.  The lady said it’s unique, she was spot on.  Unique describes it perfectly.

Back across the awful country roads, I arrive back in Lafayette at one of the Choice Brands here, this time a Quality Inn.  No available room yet so I set up shop in the lobby to write up the Rondal’s story from Saturday night.  Off to 4PM Mass and then out to search for more music.  I intend to get back to the Jefferson Street venues I know from two years ago and thanks to Kamal I have other leads.  Alas, the Jefferson venues don’t pan out.  One is demolished and replaced by a new modern building and the other is now a comedy venue.  I perhaps didn’t copy the address Kamal gave me; Lady Garmin leads me to an auto repair shop and the other is too far out of town.  I know one place for sure and I go there: Rodale’s.  Same place, another band.  Not much time here, they close down at 10PM.  But the band is excellent and the leader is pure Acadian.  A very nice guy.  He sees my interest and we meet.  And talk.  More on this event in the next post.  Hop in shotgun for that.  Allons.





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Today is Saturday, May 19 and this post describes what happened yesterday, Friday, between when at the Comfort Inn in Lafayette, I posted Goodbye Texas in the afternoon and when I posted Tempus Fugit around midnight.  In other words, last evening.  On checking in to the Comfort the gracious and helpful ladies, Aimee and Lara at the front desk tell me to get to Randol’s to see Cajun music.  At 7PM and 2.8 miles up the road, I’m at Randol’s.  Doesn’t look like much but I hear the music as I approach.  Inside, that’s where all the fun is.

Inside Terry, the fiddler here and the leader of his musiccal team, is introducing each of the members: the accordion guy, guitarist and drummer.  Terry was a Director of The Lafayette Utilities System, now retired.  Fiddling is now his day job (or should I say night job).  Clearly he is accomplished, charming and passionate about his Cajun music.  Unfortunately WordPress cannot accommodate uploading of the very fine videos I made.  I have one lasting 8 and 1/2 minutes of Terry soloing The Lover’s Waltz, one of the songs I played when I was fiddling a few years back.  And what a fine job he does of it, coming down off the stage to play among the people waltzing.  At one point he sees my interest and comes over to play for me face to face.  Joyful.  Here’s a still of Terry doing his introductions on the dance hall stage, Salle de Danse.  And another as he starts his solo.

And here’s Terry doing his thing in two other venues.  You’ll see what he can do.  Wowser.

And here’s a video of none other than Jay Ungar and his guitarist spouse planing The Lovers’s Waltz.

I’m taking videos until my camera is full, this because Cajun must be seen in person or by video to be appreciated.  But here’s some stills of the band and of two people dancing together.  There is a lot of line dancing going on; alas I have no stills of that.

The young lady in the orange tee shirt and cowboy boots is the most accomplished.  She has got the moves.

So that’s it for last night’s event.  This morning I drove 50 miles to Mamou to see an exclusive once-a-week rendition of very French Cajun.  Four hours of it 8:30 to about noon without breaks, nonstop.  Back in the afternoon to post the above.  Got to Mass at 4PM and now about to get to the venues I visited two years ago.  Off of Jefferson Street, a block away from the Juliet Hotel, then but not anymore a Choice brand.  I’ll document this morning and this evening tomorrow.  Once again, I’m behind, like for two events.  But that’s a good thing; lots of stuff to do, not enough time to blog.  Hang with me.



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Tempus Fugit

I just don’t know where the time goes.  I’ve  posted today’s blog post and been to a Cajun venue  this Friday night (will report tomorrow) and it’s now 11:30pm Friday night CDT.

Tomorrow I need to be in Mamou, 60 miles northwest of here (sort of backwards).  Seems they do four hours of Cajun starting at 8:30AM, Saturdays only.  I’m told it’s not a BIG deal but it’s quite unique.  I’m on it, gotta listen to the folks who live here.

Only thing is I’m outta here at 7:30AM tomorrow morning, breakfasted, packed and checked out.  Then Mass in the afternoon and more Cajun Saturday night.  It may be that I’ll have to stay here an extra day just to post of all the activity.  Two or three nights in Lafayette?  Okay, I can see it.  I love it here.  The music and the dancing I’m hearing and seeing is WAY UP THERE.  So fun.

So many tunes, so little time.  Time flies.

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Goodbye Texas, Hello Louisiana

That right, goodbye Texas and hello Lafayette, Louisiana.  195 miles of driving today, Friday, May 18, going straightaway on I-80E all the way.  Through Beaumont and Lake Charles.  Green all the way, very flat landscape with not too much land put to agricultural use.  There’s a huge refinery just west of Lake Charles.  Not a good photo, doesn’t show the magnitude of all the superstructure that goes on and on.

Coming into Lake Charles, Louisiana.  Tall buildings on the right.

One of the few planted fields.  I don’t recognize the crop, but it’s a vivid green.

Tall Pines, a corridor of them and some thin, spindly ones in a row.

Driving into Louisiana, there’s a number of huge signs telling of all the goodies that are available at Don’s in Scott, Louisiana, just west of Lafayette.  The last one says be sure to take the ramp at Exit 97.  After many miles and not paying attention, I almost go past it.  But as I got there, I was kind of expecting a big store similar to Presak’s Smokehouse.  The similarity is that Don’s specialty is meat.  But this is Louisiana-type meat and it’s quite unique.  Don’s signage brags of world-class boudin and cracklin.

Here’s Don’s, the outside.

Cracklin.  What’s that?  Well I’m here to educate you.  Not to sound condescending, I myself had no idea before I got here.  Here’s what it looks like and I can tell you, my first taste was fantastic.  Just the right amount of spicy heat and really, really chewy.  Cracklin is now a new, for me, favorite snack.  Now then, read all about it on the website of the Cracklin Trail, which says “Crunchy chunks of fried pork skin, fat, and meat: seasoned to perfection and served warm from the black pot. Cracklins are one of the most decadent snacks around and no matter what you call them (cracklin, cracklins, crackling, or gratons) they are delicious. Cracklins begin as small cubes of pork skin, fat, and meat. They are fried for upwards of an hour in hog lard and then cooled and re-fried until they “pop.”

You may find high-end chefs and culinary personalities incorporating versions of cracklin into their cooking, but at its heart these nuggets of soul satisfying comfort food are a Louisiana creation and the best-of-the-best are found in the Pelican State.”

Also compliments of the Cracklin Trail, here’s the anatomy of a cracklin.  Seems it comes from the hog’s belly, right outside where the bacon is.

Boudin.  What boudin?  Here you go.  According to Don’s website, boudin is described as follows.  ” A truly delicious combination of rice, ground pork, and flavorful seasonings stuffed into sausage casings, Boudin remains one of the most unique American sausages and regional specialties of Louisiana’s Cajun culture.”  I also get a generous two-inch sample of the stuff and again, way over the top.  Better for me than fresh, cooked kielbasa and for me, that’s saying quite a lot.  However it does not outmatch smoked and double-smoked kielbasa; I’d say it’s a tie.  Anyway, just the right amount of spicy heat.  I love this stuff and I admire how the Acadians here know how to eat.

And for the record here’s the inside of Don’s  There’s the specialty meats, fresh, frozen, smoked.  Not the huge jerky selection like at Presaks.  The hot boudin and freshly fried cracklin counter, the pay station and the deli.  There’s an gator on the wall. Not to be concerned, it’s obviously dead. I leave with a $5 bag of cracklin and a link of boudin.  All this can be shipped with an order online which mitigates the burden of bringing enough samples for my family by schlepping it home, keeping the boudin iced along the way.

Okay that’s it for today, at least as for the getting here part.  Now I gotta go, to Rodale’s to enjoy some Cajun music.  You’re invited.  If you can’t make it I’ll report tomorrow.


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Presak’s Hillje Smokehouse

Driving, driving and more driving across Texas.  Yes Marty, a good long time to get across it.  I’m sitting in Baytown, Texas, just east of Houston.  About another hour tomorrow to get to Orange and the Louisiana border.

Today is Thursday, May 17.  Not too much happening.  Seguin to Baytown with traffic through the heart of Houston to keep me alert and on I-10 East.  Lady Garmin helped to negotiate staying on it through the big city.  I could recount the several times I’ve been in Houston on business.  In the early 1970s, I was at J.I. Case out of Racine, Wisconsin; its parent was Tenneco, Inc. based in Houston.  Case was $1 billion in sales when I joined it in 1971 and $3 billion when I left ten years later.  At that point Tenneco was $15 billion.  I traveled to Houston a number of times, for educational seminars and for business meetings.  I have memories of company-sponsored beef barbecues at Tenneco’s live oak business resort.  Driving through Houston and seeing the Houston downtown skyscraper monoliths brought back the memories.  Jogging for one thing, in a park just off downtown.  That’s it for now for those remembrances.  More on barbecues in a moment.

As I write this, I just now took a break to move my car outside my room window to see it.  Skp that for now. Too hot.  97F.  For now it’s in a shaded spot and I decide to do it later.  Anyway I have to get out later to get to next door Outback Steakhouse for a promised 10%-off discount.  I’ve been eating wet-scrambled eggs and not-even-warm breakfast sausages and leftover dinners these last few day and though I’d dig into a decent meal.  So . . . later for all that.

Without much to report on today, I was going to recap the previous few days and well as document the tunes which sent me.  But unexpectedly the  highlight of today was before Houston and it was only because, after driving for two hours and needing a break, I serendipitously ramped off I-10E to Prasek’s Hillje Smokehouse.  It’s quite something; you’ll see in a moment.

It seems 43 years ago, Mike and Bett Prasek started a grocery store in Hillje/El Campo.  Early on they made their own smoked beef and pork sausage, then beef jerky.  The business flourished.  Now it sports 200+ employees.  There’s now the original store and this brand-new, in August, 2017, mega-store in Sealy, just off I-10.  So lucky I am in arriving here without even realizing my good fortune.  It’s BIG.  As I walk in I know this is quite something and walk back to my car to get my camera.  As it turns out, I’m here for 40 minutes making a narrated video and still photos, the latter which is below.  I’ll comment as we go.

It appears that there’s ample children and grandchildren to manage and grow the business further for at least another generation.

See the following two references:

https://www.praseks.com/        https://www.google.com/maps/search/prasek’s+hillje+smokehouse/@29.4591142,-96.5404384,10z/data=!3m1!4b1?hl=en

This is one awesome stop.  It’s not a truck stop, it is strictly focused on the non-truck-driver-careerist but rather passers-by, just like me and probably 50 like me, all here right now taking it in, in one way or another.


On outside display, there’s smokers.  The big ones are $2,150 each.  Note that that the wood goes into the stove on the lower right and that creates the smoke and heat in the mainframe.  Two chimneys allow the smoke to move and exit.  The firepit/grillers are $950 per item.  “Don’t mess with Texas” they say here.  It’s obvious these folks here take their barbecuing quite seriously.  These cast iron smokers are heavy and capable.  I open the door on the big one; it takes both hands and some hefty muscle to do so.  I am indeed impressed.

A lot of diverse stuff here.  Inside there’s animal feeders, like for deer.  These are just under $1,000,

There’s some painted table and chair sets and all sorts of wood and synthetic rockers.  The one on the left in the second photo is selling for $425.  And a chopped-off back of a relic pickup truck; it’s not for sale.

The inside as I walk in is huge.  The main atrium is dominated by a bear.  He turns his head to look at me.  Did you see him turn its head?

Under the bear, there hundreds of varieties of goodies in jars for sale.  I espy, wait for it . . . pickled okra.  $12 but I buy one without any hesitation.  Here, I have Beth in mind.

Here’s a photo of a couple of really neato short-sleeve shirts.  Hook and Stag, made in Texas.  Like everything here, expensive.  $40.  I’m tempted but resist.  I’m trying to throw out or donate shirts, not acquire even more.

Here’s the sit-down restaurant.  It’s got an aquarium to amuse the diners while the chow down.

Here’s what must be the Prasek signature food product – barbecue.  It’s in the corner at the back and it’s where the peeps are ordering at the takeout counter.

And then there are cases and displays of MEAT.  Smoked or untreated, fresh and  frozen.  All sorts of jerky.  The variety is like Mazzulo’s on steroids.  The is a BIG display of what the Prasek family must have capitalized on and flourished on, and built their business on – beef and pork.

And then here’s a bakery.  Sweet stuff and breads to make sandwiches.

Well this stop was going to be quick, in and out.  Not so.  Even as it is, awhile after I arrive, I’m hesitant to leave.  Well then, back in the car.

I was hoping to get to Orange, Texas at the border.  I get through Houston and wind up short, at Baytown, 60 miles from the border.  More tomorrow.  At the moment, I’m not in a hurry.  I’m calm.

The Outback Steakhouse was superior,  Best meal of the week and a piece of medium rare for tomorrow.  More then.  Stay with me.  Enjoy the journey.  Don’t think about the destination.  Enjoy the here and now.  With me?  For sure.

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The Alamo and San Antonio’s River Walk

I sleep in this morning, until 8AM CDT.  Unusual  Good sleep.  I must have been tired from the stay yesterday, not a good one .  Off from Kerrville, Texas at 10AM, I’m headed to San Antonio, 60 miles east.  The countryside is decidedly not desert anymore but rather the landscape is, I’m not quite used to it, comparatively green and lush.  Here’s a few long views from the car.

And in an hour here I am in the heart of San Antonio.  After scoring a $5 place to park my car, I walk three blocks to the center of it all.


It’s the Alamo, right next to a huge edifice which is the U.S. Post Office and Courthouse here.  Adjacent is the Alamo.  As I enter the grounds there’s a pillar/monument that was built in 1936 to commemorate the Americans who died here in battle, defending the Alamo in 1836.  Their names are engraved on the side panels.  I take a photo which I’m dedicating to you, Marty.  Perhaps a long-ago relative?  

And here’s the first look at the Alamo.  Oh my.  I remember seeing it as Gus McCrae and Woodrow Call, in Lonesome Dove, walked by in front of it.  Here it is, up close and personal.  I’m kind of stunned.  Awed.  The real deal.  The below are all my own photos taken today.  I can’t believe I’m here in the midst of this historic national treasure.  Pinch me.

I sort of remember the significance, not just from Lonesome Dove, but from when I was much younger, enjoying Walt Disney’s Frontierland and the portrayal of Davy Crockett by Fess Parker.  Crockett and Jim Bowie died here, with 200 others, defending it.  Is this one of our national tresures?  Is this a Texas treasure?  You betcha.

But the ‘sort of remember’ turns to ‘becoming familiar’ with the significance.  The 1836 defense of the Alamo is indeed historic.  The Alamo is really a larger fort.  The famous iconic facade seen above and in my photos is actually the front entrance to the  Catholic church built inside the fort.  I attend and record the short video and my familiarity blossoms.  See Wikipedia to have the significance explained to you at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alamo_Mission_in_San_Antonio

and also see https://stanthonydepadua.org/our-parish/history

for an extant Catholic parish.  Enough said, history is right here, right now.  It was Sam Houston who said in a battle subsequent to the Alamo’s failed defense, “REMEMBER THE ALAMO”.


Behind the church and on the magnificent grounds there, here’s photos of a 148-year-old live oak tree, which at 14 years old, replanted here.

Here in the museum, there’s artifacts from the whole deal, including from the church.  The layout of the fort is shown.  The church is at the upper left in the second photo, like where that circular ring is.   from .  The third photo shows the Alamo community with the fort at the top, slightly to the right.  Not real clear, but the best I can do.

On the grounds and gardens.  An agave, and a prickly pear.  Impressed with my identification expertise?  I’m kind of proud of my newly-found ability.  Eh?

At the shadowed lawn.  Some volunteer exhibits.  A doctor discussing mid-1800s medicine and a gunsmith, explaining the weapons used at the time.

The back of the church showing the apse.

At the ‘Fortress Alamo’, some of the weapons used back then.

And now San Antonio’s second gem, the River Walk.  Here’s a sidewalk map.  I’m going just across Alamo Street and into it.  See the kind of boxed-in rectangle?  That’s it .  I enter from the bottom and walk the rectangle.  The walkway, it’s all feet away from the Guadalupe River, flowing through the heart of San Antonio.  Again, it’s iconic, and one of a kind.

The entry is downstairs, through man-made waterfalls.

And here’s the shops, the outdoor restaurants and the charming walk.  Turista boats make the walk, a ride.

An active U.S. Army soldier, with his family.  And the walk along the way.

The wildlife seen in the river.

The Iron Cactus menu (Marty of Kerrville ate here).

Am optical illusion.  Looking up, it looks like a slab of windows.  That’s because you can’t see the other side which is at an acute angle behind.

Okay, I’ve made the complete circle and am back out at the Alamo.  Retreating back to my parking spot, I walk back the way I came earlier, past the San Antonio U.S. Post Office and Courthouse.

Did you like it today?  I sure did, after two relatively mundane days of just driving.  If you did, please comment.  I’d love to hear from you

Now settled in Seguin, Texas, 30 minutes east of SanAnton.  Another night in Texas.  Okay then.  Next two days, more driving to Lafayette, Louisiana.  Figure another night in Texas, perhaps east of Houston.  Translate for another two days: just driving only.

Today was magical.  Agree?  Lafayette promises music.  Cajun and Zydeco.  A second time, from early 2016.  I yearn to hear it again.  C’mon along.  Yea?

Checked my car.  Asked Kayla of fill-rate on weekdays.  She says 50 to 75%.  Filled on the weekends.  Time for dinner; Schlotsky lefefovers and a shower and settling into bed.  Goodnight all.  Another perfect day.  Cheers.



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