Travel Journal
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In and Out of the "Loop":
Exploring Galveston and Houston, Texas
August 2022
By Sandra Bertrand
You know that old expression, “How can I wrap my head around it?” That’s a bit how I was feeling during our week’s stay in April with my sister Pam, circling the I-610 inside loop. That highway defines the city that Sam Houston founded in 1837, encompassing a multitude of neighborhoods we would zoom in and out of in Pam’s shiny, blue Toyota, searching for the real Houston.
Array of Lily Pods at Heritage Grand within Cinco Ranch (Katy, Texas)
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Pam lives due west of the city proper, in a master-planned retirement community of 650 homes called Heritage Grand, within Cinco Ranch, nestled within the postal code of Katy, Texas. Does that make it improper? Hardly. This gated wonderland of manicured lawns, a grandiose swimming pool, and a green oasis of lily pods and golden koi would satisfy a healthy majority of the over-fifty set, even by Texas standards. The population was 16,899 at the 2020 census, officially under the extraterritorial jurisdiction of Houston.
After my partner Joanne and I introduced ourselves to felines Minnie and Molly, the latter becoming our bedmate over the next few days, we headed over to Sugar Land. (It’s not another Disney-inspired spun sugar kingdom, but one more outside-the-loop community southwest of Cinco Ranch.) My niece Caitlin and her boyfriend Ryan have purchased a two-story home close to the high school where she teaches high school chemistry to a student body with a healthy mix of overachievers. More introductions to Caitlin’s felines Niko and Marie followed – a brother and sister act that entertained us while we shared celebratory gin and tonics. We enjoyed the house tour, especially because life in Manhattan is full of promise but short on square footage for all but the very well-heeled. |
Hungry from our Jet Blue flight, Ryan treated us to a sumptuous dinner at Churrasco, where we sat alongside the Brazos River corridor, enjoying the breezes from a stand of Chinese elms. While we feasted on a tilapia and shrimp ceviche – followed by a steak Chirraco lathered in a chimmichurri sauce and a side of sweet potato puree with jalapenos, cilantro and red onion – Ryan reminded us of the wisdom of an April itinerary, before the humid days brought resident mosquitoes to join the happy hour madness.
GALVESTON
We slept like babies, even with Molly tentatively tickling our toes. It was a good thing because the next morning, we began our journey to Galveston, an island city on the Gulf Coast, promising good times for us, sister Pam, and her best friend, Letitia – a true, big-hearted Texan we had met on previous trips south. After a round of hefty hugs, we headed out to the I-45 freeway, a fifty-one mile straight run south.
With Pam at the wheel, I could gaze out on the surrounding landscape – a crazy quilt of signage, fields of margarita daisies (where were the yellow roses of Texas?), and encroaching construction sites. I long ago discovered as an aficionada of road trips, I could gather impressions better from a rear seat vantage point!
We slept like babies, even with Molly tentatively tickling our toes. It was a good thing because the next morning, we began our journey to Galveston, an island city on the Gulf Coast, promising good times for us, sister Pam, and her best friend, Letitia – a true, big-hearted Texan we had met on previous trips south. After a round of hefty hugs, we headed out to the I-45 freeway, a fifty-one mile straight run south.
With Pam at the wheel, I could gaze out on the surrounding landscape – a crazy quilt of signage, fields of margarita daisies (where were the yellow roses of Texas?), and encroaching construction sites. I long ago discovered as an aficionada of road trips, I could gather impressions better from a rear seat vantage point!
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Our first order of the day was to search out the artist carvings from fallen live oaks dotting the community. In 2008, Hurricane Ike wreaked terrible havoc, with an estimated 100,000 homes flooded, leaving the city largely uninhabitable. Forty thousand trees were killed. As a testament to human resilience, chainsaw sculptors went to work. I spent a good hour hopping in and out of the car, snapping away at nature’s reconstituted bounty. (The 1900 Great Galveston Hurricane and Flood were the deadliest natural disasters in United States history.) There’s an unmistakable charm in the town’s architecture, with colorful Victorian front porches, doors and window shutters, and mowed lawns with perky flowering bushes seemingly on show in their Sunday best. Even an occasional horse-drawn buggy comes into view, laden with sedentary tourists. An unmistakable Streamline Moderne style (on the heels of the earlier Art Deco craze, more visible in Miami Beach, Florida) can be spotted in commercial buildings, like the Shearn Moody Plaza and the Graugnard Bakery. |
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Texas Size: Two Huge Platters Apiece
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The Sunflower Bakery and Café was touted earlier by my niece, but with a wait time of forty-five minutes, Letitia was quick to hustle us over to the Original Mexican Restaurant just catty-corner from our outside bench. My only takeaway impression from the Sunflower’s front counter was a trinket basket of sunflower seed packets for planting.
Once seated, we opted for margaritas, our lunch orders of Tex-Mex at its finest arriving on two huge platters apiece. My takeaway here – besides a full tummy – was the sight of a middle-aged couple opposite, the male resplendent with a ten-gallon hat, droopy mustache, and scuffed cowboy boots, his companion a Loretta Lynn wannabee. |
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The Moody Mansion proved to be a must-see for the afternoon. W.J. Moody Jr., a cotton ranching, banking, newspaper publishing, railroading and hotel magnate, bought the 20-room mansion soon after the Great Galveston storm mentioned earlier. Designed by British architect William H. Tyndall, it is listed in the National Register of Historic Places. The highpoint for me was the girlish enthusiasm of our tour guide, regaling us with stories about the Moody children and letting us roam the attic storage area at will, where we unearthed a stray box of Lalique swans gathering dust. “Oh, his daughter Libby – I don’t want to say to y’all that she was a hoarder, but…” When I asked her if she’d visited any of our East coast estates open for viewing, she swooned, “Honey, my biggest wish is to go to Newport before I die!”
Back in the car, we made a quick stop at the Patty Cake Bakery (the Island’s Sweet Spot) for some lightly flaked cinnamon scones and drove by the Strand, an historic cram-full shopping section we were happy to witness from the car’s a/c interior. A one-story stucco structure nearby advertised itself as the Church of the Chosen Generation, so I have no idea which among us they are planning on saving! |
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The Grand Galvez Hotel was our last stop, only a three-minute walk from Galveston Seawall and eight minutes by foot from Galveston Island Historic Pleasure Pier.
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From the moment we entered the main lobby, recently under renovation, we knew we had stepped into what appeared to be a pre – or post – wedding party, with crumpled napkins, empty drink glasses strewn across the small tables adjacent to the main bar, and a loud confab of twenty to thirty-year-old wedding attendees holding court. From our corner vantage, we could see another wedding party entering and exiting side rooms. A bevy of young women marched back and forth, in various stages of dress and undress, occasionally pausing to shake out a hairpiece or hike up another strapless gown or satin skirt threatening to tangle into a spiked heel. A red theme seemed to dominate, in the settees and overhead in the crystal chandelier, giving the whole business the look of a grandiose bordello. When our frazzled waitress finally appeared, she knew we had witnessed the whole shebang, glad not to be in her shoes.
In all fairness, it’s a fine-looking place, especially from the approach, with enough palm trees to satisfy an Arabian prince. It also offers all the desired amenities and a first-rate spa, which my sister attested to on a recent visit. |
HOUSTON
The next morning, reluctant to say our farewells, we joined up at la Madeleine, a rustic French restaurant in Katy with a decidedly French air. That impression wasn’t due to the croissants and antique prints alone. During a trip to the Women’s Room, I was serenaded with a softly modulated voice: “Comment t’allez vous?” This was followed by other standard phrases to make sure I had brushed up on my French before departure!
The next morning, reluctant to say our farewells, we joined up at la Madeleine, a rustic French restaurant in Katy with a decidedly French air. That impression wasn’t due to the croissants and antique prints alone. During a trip to the Women’s Room, I was serenaded with a softly modulated voice: “Comment t’allez vous?” This was followed by other standard phrases to make sure I had brushed up on my French before departure!
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Our Houston “hood” hopping got off to a respectable start in the Heights Boulevard section. At an elevation of 23 feet over downtown Houston, we had arrived. Parking curbside on the broad, tree-lined street, we took a relaxed stroll, ogling the rows of handsome Victorians. We were stopped short by an ominous looking rabbit sculpture on the divider, with oversized Easter eggs strewn at its feet. You don’t have to be an habitual “flaneur” or street wanderer to uncover such surprises, just reasonably alert with cell phone at rest except for picture-snapping. A sleepy suburb on the decline after WWII, by the early seventies it reversed itself with local efforts, becoming prime real estate today. My first glimpse of the Montrose “gayborhood,” as it’s known by the locals, is the Paint Wall, a multi-colored wall of stripes symbolic of its multicultural vibes. I promised myself on our next trip we would visit the Mark Rothko Chapel nearby, founded by John and Dominique de Menil. Fourteen of his black paintings line the walls of this non-denominational church. |
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Later, on the way to Fat Bao, an Asian fusion outpost for lunch, I reveled in the commercial storefronts – Voodo Donut alongside the Erotic Cabaret were just a taste of discoveries from my passenger window. We feasted on braised pork belly tacos on bao buns, a delectable soft dumpling bread, with a side of refreshing mint coleslaw.
Rated the second largest museum in the U.S., the Museum of Fine Arts occupies the heart of the Museum District. With 70,000 works of art in the collection, viewers are encouraged to savor their favorites and, like a kid in a candy store, save the rest for another visit. Latin American Art is well represented, especially the Adolpho Leirner Collection of Brazilian Constructive Art. Antonio Berni’s lizard-like monster from his polychrome constructions is a must-see, a concoction of bottle-cap claws and old plant roots only part of its surrealistic formation. Francisco Matto reduces people and animals to their barest essentials in his sculptures, while Jorge de la Vega’s Images collage seems to jump off the wall at the viewer. A delightful surprise was a Matisse fireplace mural originally ordered by Nelson Rockefeller for his New York upstate home. |
A connecting corridor between buildings from James Turrell proves what a magician this master is with neon light. We finished our visit with the Obama Portraits on tour from the National Portrait Gallery. Amy Sherald’s painting of Michelle Obama has been well publicized, but its subject holds a tremendous power and elegance in the viewing. A spacious and airy cafeteria provided respectable fare, with an excellent Caesar salad, a mortadella sandwich and ice cream as a finish.
A road tour of Houston would not be complete without a city-within-a-city drive through the Medical Center. Immediately south of the Museum District, the structures pierce the blue skies above us like a twenty-first century urban marvel. No, it’s not Dubai, just Texas-size. Over 60 medical institutions, largely concentrated in a triangular area between Brays Bayou, Rice University and Hermann Park, are all members of the nonprofit Texas Medical Center Corporation, which constitutes the largest medical complex in the world.
A road tour of Houston would not be complete without a city-within-a-city drive through the Medical Center. Immediately south of the Museum District, the structures pierce the blue skies above us like a twenty-first century urban marvel. No, it’s not Dubai, just Texas-size. Over 60 medical institutions, largely concentrated in a triangular area between Brays Bayou, Rice University and Hermann Park, are all members of the nonprofit Texas Medical Center Corporation, which constitutes the largest medical complex in the world.
With over 106,000 employees in the Medical Center, housing is a crucial consideration. The adjacent Rice University is a private research facility with a 300 acre campus, its environs including miles of attractive, largely one-story homes, with its own fire and police departments. Where is the old money, you might ask, and the community of River Oaks is probably your best guess. Predictably, palatial homes in the $5 to $20 million range and an upscale shopping center can be found, but my favorite destination is an art deco theatre for foreign and indie films, soon to re-open.
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Caitlin was happy to share a frequented restaurant with us in her Sugar Land stomping grounds, where I posed under an auspicious sign in the town center. Vino & Vinyl advertised a working turntable in their window with a variety of tunes. Taking an outside table, we shared a perfect bottle of Matteo Braidlot Pinot Grigio from Northern Italy while waiting for a grilled octopus appetizer and fish tacos. A bathroom visit unearthed a wall covered with LPs of Perry Como, Barbara Mandrell, and others that I’m old enough to remember.
We imagined a real Texas barbecue send-off was in the cards. What we got instead was a rather sloppy mishmash of fatty pork offerings from a place I won’t recommend. However, the star of the show was a gigantic, stuffed grizzly that oversaw the entire enterprise.
Happily, our last afternoon was spent at Ambriza, a first-rate Mexican restaurant in the Cinco Ranch area. In the foyer, we were greeted by a Day of the Dead sculpture in a knock-em-dead yellow dress. The cucumber serrano margaritas were dangerously delicious, and the free, street corn cob starters with crumbled queso fresco a meal in themselves. |
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Did we find the real Houston? You might have to hop a time machine and ask Sam. What we did find, even when we masked up, was a whopping good time.
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PLACES OF INTEREST Galveston, TX The Sunflower Bakery and Cafe 512 14th St Galveston, TX (409) 763-5500 The Original Mexican Café 1401 Market St. Galveston, TX (409) 762-6001 PattyCakes Bakery 704 14th St. Galveston, TX (409) 762-2537 The Moody Mansion 2618 Broadway Avenue J Galveston, TX (409) 762-7668 Grand Galvez Hotel 2024 Seawall Blvd. Galveston, TX (409) 765-7721 |
PLACES OF INTEREST Houston, TX La Madeleine 23322 Mercantile Pkwy Katy, TX (281) 395-2888 Churrascos 1520 Lake Pointe Pkwy Ste 500 Sugar Land, TX (832) 532-5300 Vino & Vinyl 15977 City Walk, Sugar Land, TX (281) 277-0565 Ambriza 23501 Cinco Ranch Blvd Suite F-140 La Centerra at Cinco Ranch Katy, TX Museum of Fine Arts, Houston 1001 Bissonnet St. Houston, TX (713) 639-7300 |
Sandra Bertrand is an award-winning playwright and painter. She is Chief Art Critic for Highbrow Magazine and a contributing writer for GALO Magazine. Prior to working for Sanctuary as Culture & Travel Editor, Sandra was a Featured Artist in May 2019.
