Sunrise in Galveston

We made our way to Galveston Island for a short vacation over Easter. Our balcony looked right out on the gulf and the steady sounds of the surf were soothing to my stressed out ears. We watched the moon rise over the water on the first night, a beautiful sight difficult to capture with a camera, and we saw a sunrise the next morning that was just as beautiful, with the great orange sun lifting liquidly off the surface of the water before rising in a shimmer to light the new day. We soaked luxuriously in the condo hot tub several times, and declared that this might be something we’d enjoy having in our own home.

Galveston Island is an interesting place – culturally diverse with a history. There was a Battle of Galveston during the Civil War because of the importance of port access, and indeed we were able to wander across the island and see the port and the two cruise ships docked there on Sunday – a reminder of a previous trip we’d taken when we cruised down the Mississippi from New Orleans the very last year before Hurricane Katrina nearly destroyed it.

There are nuances of New Orleans in Galveston as well; old mansions, palms and elaborately branched live oak trees, an exotic feel that whispers of Bourbon Street but only the faintest of whispers. In March, the streets were relatively empty and seemed deserted – there was a chill off the ocean and it was not yet time for the crowds and the sunbathers. We walked along the famous Seawall, built after a terrible hurricane in 1900 took the lives of at least 6,000 island people who had no warning and in any case no quick way to escape the big waves—the worst natural disaster in the history of the United States. Three quarters of the buildings in Galveston were destroyed in this hurricane, and the town began building the seawall that now stretches for more than 17 miles along the Galveston coast. One edge of the seawall was a short walk from our condo. In inimitable Texas style, there were no guardrails to protect a heedless tourist from walking or biking right off the edge of the wall with quite a drop to the rocks below. No nanny state here in Texas; just keep your eyes peeled. I pondered the glaring contrasts of a state that could have produced both George W. Bush and Molly Ivins (who had the wit to first call GWB “Shrub” and “Dubya” and who I miss dearly during this election year).

We drove across a causeway to Pelican Island and talked to fishermen on the pier who showed us several whiting they had already caught that morning (too early for speckled trout, they said). Along the road on Pelican Island we encountered a strange sight – a huge burst of flame, emanating significant heat as it shot from its tower, and burning endlessly orange against the blue sky. Quite beautiful in its own way, but also alarming, some kind of burn off of natural gas from an oil derrick we were guessing. A telltale sign across the road proclaimed: Halliburton Corporation. Galveston is unapologetic about the “oil bidness;” a helicopter flew across the ocean and over our condo each day at about the same time, a courier for the offshore oil operations just barely visible by the red lights across the ocean.

We walked both ways along our beach several times during our stay and got a sense for the western, and less crowded, end of the island in an area called Jamaica Beach. We also explored the east end and the town, having Easter breakfast in the elegant Hotel Galvez. Restaurants were scarce on the west end of the island, but on the last night we visited a place called Woody’s with a weatherworn balcony that looked out over wetlands, water birds and the ocean. Woody’s served liquor only, no food, and was probably one of the grungiest dives I have visited in recent memory with a strong biker theme, a quarter pool table with decent cues, and smoking allowed anywhere you damn please. But the people were friendly and the young woman tending bar assured us that we could get food across the street in one of three restaurants, all good. One of these was closed altogether but we managed to make our way to The Captain’s Table where we indulged in fried seafood that neither of our waistlines needed, but why not? We were on vacation.

On our last day we visited Moody Gardens with its pyramids housing an aquarium and a rainforest with parrots. We turned pure tourist at that point and I took several pictures of fauna and flora including quite beautiful tropical birds and orchids. We lunched in the Moody Hotel and Resort where posters proclaimed that, should one wish, one could attend a program called Gospel by the Sea.

We were ready to come home after a few days, appreciative of the change of scene but glad to be back in our little house that now seemed spacious after the condo, and able to dine on food we cook ourselves which, we do say so ourselves, is 99% of the time far superior to anything we find in any restaurant regardless of how much we are willing to pay.