San Antonio: More than Meets the Eye

When I moved to San Antonio four years ago, I felt confident the city was everything it appeared to be: A gorgeous southern town that seemed to always smell like flowers, where birds chirped and bees buzzed, and where, much like the scene pictured above, everything co-existed peacefully.

Now, I'm not so sure.

I stepped off the plane at the San Antonio International Airport back in 2013 like any other fresh-faced Millennial: Energetic. Open-minded. Curious. Ready to take notes. As a lifelong Midwesterner, life in a new city where palm trees grew on every corner and there was no harsh winter seemed like paradise.

My husband, Steve, and I moved into an apartment on a street with an idyllic name in Alamo Heights that was shaded by beautiful live oak trees. It had a pool and friendly neighbors, including a calico cat who has become our best friend. The apartment was a quarter mile from Steve's office and within walking distance of three coffee shops, Central Market, a tire and automotive shop, several banks and other amenities.

The greatest thrill for me, however, came from knowing I was in a new city and that I was anonymous.

Aside from a few friends of our family, no one here knew me, and I brimmed with excitement when thinking of all the people I was going to meet. Moving to San Antonio was a sign, I told myself. I was in the right place at the right time. The best part of my life was about to unfold, and I was going to live each day to the fullest, flexing my strength and resolve at every opportunity.

My bike parked near some mesquite trees in Olmos Park.

And I did.

All that happened, and then some more. Only it hasn't turned out quite the way I expected, and one of the reasons for that is San Antonio is more than meets the eye.

It's no secret this city, like much of the rest of the South, is rising in population. According to the U.S. Census, San Antonio's population grew to 1.49 million people in 2016, and this May, the Bureau reported it had the highest population growth of any city in Texas, with 24,473 people moving here between July 1, 2015 and July 1, 2016.

A view of the downtown San Antonio skyline, taken from Mahncke Park.

Now the seventh-largest city in the U.S., San Antonio is filled with extraordinary sights and attractions, steeped in a rich history that meshes past and present. The streets of downtown are like a carnival for the senses, with taco trucks and carts serving paletas and raspas to dazed visitors ambling along the limestone walk of Alamo Plaza.

San Antonio pulses with late night-energy. It's one of the few places where you can see a horse pulling a Cinderella carriage down Crockett Street next to multiple lanes of traffic and an historic Spanish Mission.

By the way, I'm not a fan of the horse-drawn carriages in downtown San Antonio. I don't think horses should have to breathe exhaust and clod on pavement to pull around people who would be better off walking. Horses should be romping in pastures. But I know they're part of the city's pastiche, so I accept that inconvenient reality.

It's all for the tourists anyway, right?

The River Walk looking east beneath Houston Street.

Well, sort of, except that tourism and hospitality are a major industry here – in fact, one of the top five industries. Travel supports more than 130,796 jobs in San Antonio,  meaning that one in every eight jobs in San Antonio depends on travel and tourism, according to the San Antonio Convention and Visitors Bureau.

The jobs at the restaurants along the River Walk involve hard manual labor with long hours and low pay. My first job in San Antonio was working for a family-owned catering company, and it turned out to be some of the hardest work I've ever done.

I'd like to say I learned right away that San Antonio is about much more than appearances, but the truth is, it took me a while.

Maybe it's because it is such a beautiful, colorful place that the stories that existed beneath – about the great passion and commitment that people put into San Antonio each day – seemed so subdued.

After six months at the catering company, I was starting to feel like I was stranded on a desert island, and not just because I ended up dehydrated at the end of a shift. I used to go to the grocery store afterward and marvel at all the fresh produce, picking up a peach or plum and thinking about the work that went into getting it to that shelf. It's easy to take that sort of thing for granted.

I'd worked in restaurants since high school, so I knew what it felt like to stand on my feet and run back and forth all day. The fatigue I experienced working for the caterer, however, was much stronger than any I'd known. No, I explained to my manager at the end of the shift, I wasn't tired of being pretty, I was tired from an exhausting job that I couldn't comprehend someone doing every day, let alone for years on end, with no prospects of long-term employment, health benefits or a salary.

Because people spend so much time on their feet in San Antonio, it strikes me as curious that it's not a more pedestrian-friendly place. Since I moved back, I've heard various complaints from visitors and natives that it's not a walkable city.

That's never stopped me from getting around on foot.

I've taken the sidewalks all the way up to the H-E-B in Lincoln Heights and down to the Pearl Brewery. There are parts of Broadway with a sidewalk on only one side of the street where I have to cross to the other side. Traffic can be daunting and sometimes scary, particularly at rush hour. However, it's always been possible, and despite my age and warm-weather attire, no one's ever bothered me. In fact, the last encounter I had while out walking was a cyclist who tried to steal a loaf of bread out of my shopping bag as he whizzed by in the opposite direction. He did not get the bread.

For these reasons, it took me a while to understand that when people say a place isn't pedestrian-friendly, they mean they don't think the City considers it a high priority.

In order for a place to be pedestrian-friendly, it has to do more than just build the sidewalks, bike lanes and corridors that will make up the infrastructure, but also design urban planning in a way that encourages people to lead a more active lifestyle. San Antonio is largely built to be traveled by car, with patches of walkability here and there, and mostly around areas that cater to people from out of town.

A crosswalk located at the corner of Broadway Street and Circle Drive in Alamo Heights.

Having said that, San Antonio has an invaluable treasure in the River Walk. Thanks to President Franklin Roosevelt's project carried out under the Works Progress Administration, downtown San Antonio not only has plenty of sidewalks, but a unique vista running below street level that provides shade, picturesque scenery, shops selling handmade gifts and Tex-Mex food for all.

The River Walk, while not a key destination for locals, is great, and the newer segments stretching north along the Museum Reach and south toward the San Antonio Missions National Historic Park are perfect for a quiet, relaxing walk away from the throngs of people eating at the restaurants along Commerce and Houston streets.

I've seen the city's walkability improve in leaps and bounds in the last four years, from new crosswalks and bike lanes along the streets surrounding Trinity University and the Japanese Tea Garden to the completion of the Avenue B corridor, enabling people to travel from Brackenridge Park all the way downtown. Once the city links all the paved trails in the Howard W. Peak Greenway Trails System that are dispersed and already semi-connected around the city, it will be possible to cross town on foot or bicycle without having to mingle with traffic.

The reason I place such importance on walkability is because it's one of the things that led me to change my initial impressions of San Antonio.

San Antonio will always be a great city, no matter what, with something for everyone to see and do. Their destination could be a show at one of the city's many historic theaters, or public art or street performance on Alamo Street. It could be an anti fake-news protest held by a local arts organization such as the Urban-15 Group at a conference of the San Antonio Association of Hispanic Journalists, or another event that encourages people of all citizenry to be active in national politics.

Maybe it's a burlesque show in the Deco District, or a party in a pavilion in the King William Neighborhood, a First Friday retreat. It could be a man joyriding in his1967 Chevelle Super Sport with the windows rolled down and spewing exhaust that gives a whole new meaning to vehicle idling.

San Antonio could be much more environmentally conscious, and new Mayor Ron Nirenberg has made air quality a priority since he was City Councilman in District 8 on the northwest side, sponsoring a vehicle anti-idling ordinance in 2016 that was unanimously approved by the San Antonio City Council. Until the city gets the rail system that it deserves, it's going to be an uphill battle to try and fight some of the powers that be who want transportation and infrastructure to remain essentially the same for years to come.

On a lighter note, San Antonio is home to a thriving music scene, with bands journeying from Austin and out of state to play at clubs along the St. Mary's Strip and at new venues such as the Tobin Center for the Performing Arts.

Acrobats climb horizontally across the side of the Tobin Center for the Performing Arts.

"Los de Esta Noche" performing during Urban-15's annual Incognito event. 

San Antonio has always seemed to me like a great place to be an artist or performer. The San Antonio Burlesque Fest continues to feature an exotic repertoire of stars in its annual Burlesque Festival, featuring a Friday Night Showcase Sept. 22 and a Saturday Night Spectacular the following night. Another local troupe, Stars and Garters Burlesque, will host a Babewatch party at the Blue Star Arts Complex on Saturday, July 22.

Satan's Angel, the Burlesque Hall of Fame Legend, performs at the Friday Night Showcase.
(Image courtesy of San Antonio Burlesque Fest.)

So with all these great events going on, and such a constant thriving scene, I tried to understand the feeling of transience I recently experienced sitting on the outdoor patio at Central Market and talking to a community organizer who works to garner support for religious institutions, nonprofit and civic groups on the City's west side. 

I have dance practice two nights out of the week that runs until 9 p.m., so Central Market is one of the few options I have for grabbing a late-night bite to eat on the way home when I know there's nothing in the refrigerator. That's OK, though, because it's a great excuse to sit outside and enjoy the warm night air and some delicious food. 

The two of us sat and talked for hours, and even though the store closes at 10 p.m., no one kicked us out for lingering after closing time. Part of our conversation was about how even though we both felt the city was pretty mobile, there really weren't a lot of places where you could just amble up the street at this hour and stop in for a drink or bite to eat, other than a bar.

Central Market is really the only place between here and downtown where you can pull up a chair and eat al fresco without feeling pressured to leave right at closing time. That's the sort of thing I think we could use more of here, along with a public transportation system that makes it easier for everyone to hop on and off to get where they're going. Make the city more open and more mobile.

As we sat noshing on our modern fare, our eyes gleaming hopefully as we discussed what our futures might bring, I had a feeling of futility that made me gasp. It was because I thought about us being there so late at night when everyone else was at home or in bed. I tilted my head back – I explained to my new friend that I'd been nursing a stiff neck lately – and stared up at the ceiling fans rotating overhead.

Maybe despite everything I'd seen and written and explored, what I really needed to do in San Antonio was to try to relax and exist, without constantly worrying about everything.

I used to believe in predestination, that we're all born with our lives decided and that it doesn't really matter which choices we make or which god we pray to. But I've changed my attitude about that. I've gotten to know people here. I've gotten lost downtown many times, but it's never changed my love of walking there.

I took the picture of the horse and carriage about a year ago when my friend, Angela, and I drove to Alamo Plaza for a game of Pokémon Go, the popular game that people can download as an app to their iOS or Android device that allows them to use GPS to find the mythical Pokémon.

Hundreds of other people were in the plaza that night hunting for them, and while we both found our share hiding behind palm trees and along street corners, the trip actually reminded me how much I love San Antonio – and am excited for the tricentennial celebration!

Walking Along Broadway, A Visual Journey: Part II: Miraflores

I walked to Brackenridge Park today, camera in hand, to take some photographs of a curious gathering of ruins spanning Hildebrand Avenue west of Broadway Street.

My visit was partly inspired by an eye-catching statue I'd seen out of my periphery when driving toward the US-281 exit ramp the night before, in addition to a conversation I'd heard in the outdoor dining area at Central Market recently.

Three men, who were clearly from out of town based on the part of their conversation I overheard about them returning to Philadelphia, were having dinner together, and as they sat down with their entrees and drinks, one of the men made a joke about existentialism that prompted the other two to laugh.

As I eavesdropped, I heard the older gentleman talking about art and how he thought culture was changing and art was once again going to be a province of rich patrons and families.

Which leads me to the subject of this article: Miraflores.

A small park located at the corner of East Hildebrand Avenue across from the University of the Incarnate Word, it was under the original ownership of one Dr. Aureliano Urrutia who, according to this delicious article by writer Walt Lockley of Texas Escapes, was a Mexican doctor who arrived in San Antonio as a political exile in his early forties in 1915.

Mexico was full of violent insurrections and political unrest at the time, and Urrutia ended up operating on Mexican military gangster Victoriano Huerta's eyes and becoming a close adviser and minister of his government after Presidents Porfirio Diaz and Francisco Madero had their run in office.

Interestingly, the writer points out that Urrutia was known for trying to pass reform legislation under Huerta including a streetcar law and ordering the closing of pulquerias before eventually being accused of a medical assassination without anesthetic.

It was after his arrest by General Frederick Funston (After which nearby Funston Avenue in San Antonio is named) that he was able to exile himself to the U.S. by ship from Veracruz to New Orleans and by train to San Antonio.

While the article ends inconclusively on whether he was a war criminal, an innocent exile or something else, it's clear that he owned the property in and near the park, including 15 acres, from roughly 1925 through 1950, according to the Brackenridge Park Conservancy.

The San Antonio Conservation Society has had its eye on restoring Miraflores for a long time. Work is currently underway to complete the renovation of the entry towers and gates to Miraflores as part of the Mitigation for the Broadway Drainage Project under the Broadway Corridor Phase IIIA – Miraflores Park Mitigation Enhancements. 

As I was walking along an uphill lane from the park onto a sidewalk along Hildebrand Avenue, I noticed a placard featuring photographs of Urrutia's original conception for Miraflores. He created the contemplative garden as a reminder of his native Xochimilcho, Mexico.

Eroded ceramic tiles on the north side of the entry gate towers are being documented and removed, and new ceramic tiles, made in Mexico from the same region as the original tiles, are being installed. The stone wall and metal fence along Hildebrand have also been restored. (Image and caption courtesy of Brackenridge Park Conservancy.)




The city is working with RVK Architects to develop Miraflores as a cultural landscape. It's currently housed in a fenced-in property behind the AT&T Center along Broadway Street and is inaccessible to the public, but I infer from this that because of the plan and the regulations of the Texas Historic Commission, the garden will eventually be open to the public for people to peruse, take photos and admire the curious collection of stone statues that Urrutia procured.

There's no doubt the infamous doctor was a bit eccentric. Landmarks spotted around many other parts of San Antonio – including mid-century artist Dionicio Rodriguez's "faux-bois" structures, made of concrete shaped to look like wood – dot the landscape, along with a headless angel.

I spotted the angel just after turning right onto Hildebrand and heading down the steep sidewalk, passing a sign advertising a "Larger than Life" insect exhibit at the San Antonio Zoo.

The headless angel statue is larger than life itself, and an irresistible subject for a photo. The afternoon shadows cast the angel's wings, shoulders and neck, as well as the ornamental lions abutting her sides, in a lemony light while the statue's bust remains shadowed in earthy gray. The angel's body is sculpted and elongated in the style characteristic of the Italian Renaissance – Sandro Botticelli's lithe-bodied nymphs from "Venus" and "Primavera" come to mind. I can't help but snap several pictures as I head down the sidewalk, stopping to capture some vertical shots before turning back again.

My first photo of the headless angel, taken from directly in front. 

The same subject, taken vertically and facing southwest

Photo taken to the southeast

Something strange happened as I took more pictures from different angles. The headless angel seemed to take on a different character from the composed figure I saw when facing her. Facing southeast, the body was totally cast in shadow, with only the wings touched with light. From this vantage point, the angel took on a tormented look, her body encumbered by twisted garments. It's almost like she's struggling to fly.

Once I'm able to take a surrounding picture of the entire garden and the nearby property, it gives a better idea of what Mr. Urrutia might have had in mind here: Much like a gazing pond, this private domain was clearly meant as a display of not only wealth and artistic appreciation, but something beyond the traditional artwork found around other parts of San Antonio. It could be public art, but it's on private property, giving it a kind of forbidden appeal.

Looking southeast again, the body in shadows

Studying the statue, I wonder what Urrutia's inspiration was for including it in his motley collection. What's more, the staircase leading up to the three statues is disconnected from any permanent structure and is instead floating in a sea of green grass. If the placement of these objects is intentional, it gives the odd feeling that a large building or structure that once existed in the center of them has gone missing, though there are no clues of such a building remaining.

It isn't difficult to see why the city wants to make this park accessible to the park, and with the next phase of restoration including a walkway leading from Brackenridge Park into Miraflores (there was a bridge and terrace in place, but the gate was locked, and water from the river streamed over the sidewalk), it will send the message that Miraflores is a place for everyone to see and enjoy.

View encompassing the faux bois structure, obelisks, vegetation and rear of AT&T building.