My sister-in-law and her husband came to Houston for a week’s holiday. We didn’t let the weather get in the way and in a week managed to give them a great holiday.
This is what Alex and Bob got up to on their trip and some ‘things to do’ while visiting Houston. Continue reading Six days in Houston TX
Or what I got up to in Aberdeen in March… Continue reading Six women and a dead cat….
We’ve had visitors! Rather a lot of them of late.
Here are the tell-tale signs that we have enjoyed the presence of family and friends in the past month.
I was reading about polyglots recently – people who are multi-lingual – and feeling inspired, I resolved to learn Spanish. Again.
I have attempted to learn Spanish a few times, but the holiday got in the way. Spain is full of people who speak English so you end up giving up on your new found skills and resort to the easy way.
Whatever ‘normal’ means in this country. Where just down the road there is a large billboard above a seedy looking store that proclaims ‘GUNS, TVs, Sell, Trade’. A store that has both guns and tvs on sale is probably not to be visited after dark, I reckon.
Where a family of seven is murdered by a jealous ex-partner in cold blood.
Where Donald Trump is running for President. Can I say more?
Where a walk in the sun is impossible in the summer heat, without just about passing out.
And other extra-ordinary encounters in the USA. Well, not ordinary if you are from Aberdeen, Scotland, that is.
Some of the daily happenings and encounters are odd, to say the least. However, I don’t think the average Texan, or any American for that matter, find any of this unusual.
I do.
Here are some of the oddities, happenings, and general observations that have puzzled and amused me recently.
It’s the 4th of July – American Independence day. And we’re celebrating with them – 6 months independently living in the USA.
When we first learned we would be coming to Houston, we had mixed feelings. Having passed through once on the way home from a holiday back in 2011, we had not been well impressed. Everything seemed so spread out and finding the heart and soul of Houston seemed impossible.
Continue reading Reflecting on 6 months in Houston – Happy Independence Day
No Maurice is not missing, but I am missing him.
A few days on your own is fine – very good actually – and I rather enjoy the luxury of having my own space and doing my own thing.
But nearly two weeks is more tedious. I end up speaking to myself a lot, and doing things I would perhaps not normally do.
Here is my guide to 16 things to do when home alone in Houston….
We’ve been here nearly six months now. Six whole months. I can hardly believe it.
Our ducklings have grown. Well, technically they are not ‘our’ ducklings but we’ve adopted them as we have no other pets.
More of them later.
Yes, we’ve been busy of late. It started when friends Steve and Catherine came over for a Rush fest in May. Rush (for those who don’t know) are a Canadian prog-rock band much beloved of Mr P and so it was inevitable that on their last (hmm) US tour ever, which took in Houston, that we would have to go and see them.
Steve is a professional musician and plays with a Rush tribute band so he and his wife came over to join us at the gig in Houston. Catherine and I were Rush ‘virgins’ but soon got swept along with the true fans, wearing our t-shirts with pride and accompanying our excited husbands to the Toyota Center.
The gig did not disappoint. I am not sure I’m a complete convert – but I thoroughly enjoyed myself and loved the light show and animations that accompanied the music too.
Rush fans are a breed apart – following their idols on the tour, many seemed to have been to practically all the events. I marvelled at a) how they managed to travel so many locations and b) how they could afford this both in time off work and hard cash!
In a very, very small world moment I met someone after the gig in the hotel bar, where we all gathered afterwards, who turned out to be my sister-in-law’s nephew. Although I had spent some time talking to him and discovering acquaintances in common, we didn’t discover the main connection until he posted on my niece’s Facebook timeline to wish her Happy Birthday a few days later and I recognised the name. It really is a small world and a wonder that in a city of 2.4 million in the metro area and some 6 million including the outlying counties that I should meet an extended family member by chance, visiting for the Rush gig.
The next day we set off for New Orleans or NOLA (New Orleans, Louisiana) with Steve and Catherine. Why? To see Rush on Friday of course! And this time the boys would go alone leaving Catherine and I to shop and explore on our own. The journey down was a bit hairy as we had torrential rain en route. But by the time we got there the roads were dry and a gorgeous weekend followed with no rain at all.
Excitement was at fever pitch as Steve had won a ‘meet and greet’ with two of the three band members and so after a day of sight seeing they set off for the Smoothie King stadium like a couple of small children on their first trip to meet Santa. It nearly didn’t happen as Steve had taken special gifts for the band which were packed in a back pack. Back packs were banned. Much too-ing and fro-ing and pleading ensued and they got in eventually, meeting their heroes in a whirlwind of handshakes and photos, and then it was over. Gifts had been dispatched to an assistant – t-shirts from Steve’s charity event Rushfest in Scotland as well as other significant and personal items. They enjoyed the gig yet again, Catherine and I enjoyed our night out too, finishing with a couple of amarettos in a very nice bar.
We continued the weekend in New Orleans with a paddle steamer cruise the next day and of course a walk along Bourbon Street, although I think I will give that a miss next time! Too many stags and hens in evidence and complete drunken mayhem. I preferred perusing the Lafayette Cemetery, and exploring the mansions in the Garden District.
Our trip back to Houston was much drier than the outward journey and we arrived back in good time, tired but having had a great weekend. After a day in Galveston on the Monday, Steve and Catherine were set to leave on the Tuesday. But first we endured HHF – Houston’s Historic Flood.
Now, last post I mentioned the rain, which had been pretty bad up to a point. Well, on the Monday night our visitors were very impressed with the light show we put on for them – thunder and lightning which just did not stop. At all. For eight hours. And it rained torrentially for that entire time.
We didn’t realise the full extent of the flood till the next day when we switched on the TV. Maurice had received an email in the early hours, intimating that the office was closed so we knew things must be bad. But boy were we in for a shock. The Brays Bayou was higher than we’d ever seen, and many others had ever seen, in 30 years.
The journey to the airport with our visitors was hurried along, although their flight home was not until after 4pm we were taking no chances with what we may encounter on the roads. Thankfully we got there quickly and with little delay but not without seeing first hand the bizarre scene of cars floating along what to all intents and purposes was a river, but was in actual fact the freeway. The 288 had turned into a fast flowing deluge overnight.
What was most surprising was the rate at which things retuned to normal. The roads drained remarkably fast and the Bayou was down to reasonable levels in a matter of days. My photographs which illustrate before and after probably tell the tale better than I can in words.
There are still some tell-tale signs along the Bayou of the flood that dramatically came and went. Debris on the roof of the underpass we walk through regularly, indicating the level of flash flooding which took place well above. And a stranded fish on the bike and hike path, now decomposing and covered in flies.
Our ‘boys’, the ducklings, survived the flooding. probably pretty well really. A poor heron got stranded in our street and looked very lost on the night of the storm and there were a lot of abandoned or orphaned baby squirrels apparently.
The other night when I went to check on the ducks – twenty-one have become six since hatching – I was at the side of the pond where we usually see them when out of the bushes from the other side they emerged. Following their mother in an orderly fashion I swear they made a bee-line, or should I say duckling-line, for me. When I walked on to the small jetty to get up close, they followed me again, no doubt thinking I was going to feed them, but then just hanging out with me, dozing off and just floating along beside me. When I decided to leave, they swam off too.
Is it possible that they recognise the odd couple of duckling spotters that visit them regularly?
On JFK – you’ll need to wait until the next post for that…
It’s been raining in Houston.
Not that bad by Houston standards but some areas have had torrential downpours and flash flooding. The Bayou has been up over the paths we usually walk, but it recedes as quickly as it rises.
However, to newbies like us it is a tad disconcerting to have tv programmes interrupted by horrible high pitched alert noises, followed by a screechy voice proclaiming doom to all. In a shouty male American accent of the Anchorman variety, the alert we got went thus:
“PRECAUTIONARY/PREPAREDNESS ACTIONS…
MOVE TO HIGHER GROUND NOW. ACT QUICKLY TO PROTECT YOUR LIFE!”
Now this would have been rather difficult since there is no ‘higher ground’ near us, so far as I know. Everything is dead flat. Well apart from the Bayou and that is lower than us so we just sat tight and resumed watching tv once the screechy voice had finished.
I looked out of the window and although there was a considerable downpour – you could tell from the drops of rain in the puddles – the water was not accumulating outside our house and so no need to climb the stairs just yet. But there may come a day when we’ll be grateful to be interrupted and thankful for the warnings – which we will heed to be sure.
Of course, we knew it would start raining very heavily day upon day – because we’ve just gone and bought bikes!
Maurice managed to get a rather nifty and fast one second hand for the same price I got a brand new one at Target. Here’s hoping mine does not fall to bits after a few miles – but so far so good.
Just before the inclement weather, we went exploring along the Bayou past the Hermann Park walk we normally take, along a bike trail which I believe goes all the way into the downtown area. We passed the most amazing residential area where the houses are ginormous and you are left wondering just how many people living in Houston can afford such palaces. And they must be a nightmare to maintain. You would need an army of workers – hmm I wonder if the occupants do indeed secure a variety of services (legal and illegal perhaps).
Back in the day – this was the deep south and the owners of the palaces of the time did rely on an army of workers to keep them in the lap of luxury. These workers were not paid, however, except with a roof over their heads and they were traded like livestock until Lincoln managed to win the war and win hearts and minds to his cause.
Still, it’s fun to cycle past and peer into other lives and occasionally glimpse a resident putting out the rubbish, or should I say, trash. Everyone is always so friendly “Hello, how are you?” invariably comes, and you are left with the feeble reply of “fine thanks, you?” uttered in two seconds, if you don’t, they have already turned and walked away or walked past. “Fit like” is so much more economic of one’s time and “nae bad” as much as you really want to offer.
Speaking of friendly greetings, Maurice recently had his hair cut at a Sports Cuts. This is a franchise that pops up in various shopping areas in Houston. This was Maurice’s first experience of Sports Cuts and as a new customer he was treated to a neck and shoulder massage in a special room, a hot towel facial massage and free shampoo and conditioner. As well as his haircut. And all for just $17 which is about £11. He also gets a free sideburn and neck trim on his next visit. Bargain. Although not as cheap as Mikes.
Each of the three hairdressers in the salon gave a simultaneous greeting when someone entered: “Hello and welcome to Sports Cuts!”. This was uttered each and every time a customer came through the door. However, sometimes one of them missed the cue: “Hello and welcome to Sports Cuts”, “..Sports Cuts !” came the echoing greeting, not quite in unison. Maurice chuckled.
Customer service US style never fails to amuse me. Take a recent visit to Whole Foods where a young man was oh so eager to please us while he scanned our groceries then asked for the cash. As Maurice presented his card “Credit or Debit sir?” “Debit” came Maurice’s reply. “Awesome!” said the lad. One of many instances where a word was used that really did not fully recognise the circumstances of its context. Anything less “awesome” than presenting one’s card to pay for groceries – albeit a Debit card – I have yet to find.
On the way back from our cycle run and we see the other side of Houston. Less than a mile from the mansions of MacGregor Drive and we see homeless people living under the bridges over the Bayou. A small pile of possessions heaped beside or under them as they lie slumped for shelter, settling in for the night. The bridges over the Bayou won’t provide much shelter tonight I don’t think.
Whole Other Country 
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