Oy.
If I thought Dallas/Ft. Worth in the aftermath of Hermione was a soup, that oppressiveness was temperate compared to the bad-hair-day-making-shirt-clinging-sweat-dripping-down-my-back-to-unmentionables variety of humidity I encountered in San Antonio. I grew up in the Midwest where the summers are full of hazy mornings and damp evenings. (When Curly sang, "there's a bright golden haze on the meadow," just what do you think that haze was?) I had the least of it up near the Canadian border where the mosquitoes grow large and threatening. When I was a child, I recall begging, pleading for air-conditioning to be installed in the old farmhouse that, incidentally, had no ducts, only a gravity furnace. Needless to say, air conditioning was not installed (while I lived there) and now I look back and laugh because there was about three weeks of what we considered unbearable.
Then I moved to Kansas City, which I referred to as the Banana Belt of the Midwest, convinced that if there was a hybrid of that fruit adapted to a shorter growing season, bunches could be cultivated in Jackson County, Missouri.
Now I reside in the southern California desert, the Palm Springs area, which is like Death Valley with golf courses. For years I've heard people proclaim "but it's a dry heat!" My response is "just like hell!" After five years in the desert, I forgot about humidity. Sure, we get the monsoons moving through in August from Arizona's Sonoran desert, made worse by the evaporating swimming pools that belong to folks who leave in May when the temperature starts edging toward triple digits. But that's fleeting and comes close to the end of the hot season.
Humidity aside, the drive from D/FW to SA was through what is referred to as the hill country. It is a landscape which is little like the rest of Texas. Rolling hills crowded with trees under a sky full of fluffy clouds that sail in and out like tides. Outcroppings of limestone covered with mere inches of topsoil. I'm not sure the photograph does it justice, but ...
San Antonio. Oh, the humidity of it. But what a beautiful place. Canyon Lake - gorgeous. See below.
And the systems that come up from the Gulf spawning these fabulous cumulo nimbi - better and better.
So I donned a sun dress and headed out to Remember the Alamo. Funny to hear the interpretive talk from a volunteer speaking of "Texians." Not "Texans." At first I thought he just had an odd variation of Texas twang. But that's really how they refer to the individuals who settled the area when there was still a Mexican flag flying over it. The battle of the Alamo was nearly the culmination of what is referred to as The Texas Revolution.
The Alamo was originally named Mission San Antonio de Valero, one of the many missions built to force Native Americans' conversion to Christianity. About 70 years later, in the late 18th century, the Spanish secularized the mission and the lands were ceded to the Indians. Then, in the early 1800s, the place was occupied by a Spanish cavalry unit. During those years in the early 19th century, both royalists and revolutionaries occupied the Alamo (Spanish for "cottonwood" in honor of a village in Mexico) during the war for Mexican independence.
The important thing to remember in all of this is that, once Mexico won its independence from Spain, Texas was part of Mexico and U.S. citizens who settled there (lured by land grants) were subject to Mexican laws. Settlers wanted to raise cotton for big profit - Mexico dictated that corn, grains and beef be raised. Settlers were accustom to freedom of religion; immigrants were required to swear fidelity to Roman Catholicism. Settlers were also encouraged to form their own militias to protect themselves from Indian attacks because Mexico won their independence but exhausted their resources - the country was, quite simply, broke.
In 1835 Ben Milam routed Mexican troops and his forces occupied the Alamo. A couple months later, in February 1836, Santa Anna and his men showed up and we know the rest. Texians held out for 13 days; on day eight got some reinforcements, bringing their numbers up to about 200 troops against 1500. On March 6, the real battle ensued and just about all were killed including William Travis, David Crockett and Jim Bowie. But even though fewer than 50 Texians survived, somewhere between 400 and 600 Mexican troops were killed in the battle. Those Texians kicked some serious butt.
But now they were in full blown retreat, led by Sam Houston. It wasn't until April 6, the battle of San Jacinto, that Santa Anna was defeated. And here's yet another clue into Texas character - 900 of Houston's troops finally got tired of retreating, and decided to turn around and meet the Mexican force. Houston had no choice but to follow. Mutiny wins revolution.
That's what I know about the Alamo. The grounds are lovely, and obviously the place is a much visited attraction. The building that we typically see pictured is called the shrine. No photography, cell phone use or loud conversation is allowed. This is where men literally fought and died. There are other buildings as well, the Low Barrack, which was used alternately as a hospital, a barrack, a barn, etc. There is also a large combination museum and gift shop, which is pictured immediately above.
After that, I headed to the River Walk, which we will discuss in the next installment.
Did you find the basement?
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