San Antonio

The Alamo at sunset...

Thanks to Tracey W and Essence Magazine, I was able to escape to Texas for a long weekend for work (shot a feature for the mag) and see my parents who are still alive and kicking in San Antonio.

I've not been in SA since 2005 or so and every time I go back something has changed yet nothing is really that different. More corn tortillas are served over flour, there are spidery arms of highway stretching all over the city (HONOLULU TAKE NOTE!) and the city is a bit more browner than before.

I stuffed myself with Mexican food, BBQ and sadly not enough Shiner. The Mexican food, something that just doesn't exist in its proper form in Honolulu, is just fantastic. We went to the usual haunts like Blanco Cafe and Pico de Gallo, but the winner of the trip was the dirty little cafe at the Michoacana Grocery store at North West Center on Fredericksburg Rd. Unbelievable lengua tacos. UNBELIEVABLE!!!! I mean its like the stuff we ate near the Zocalo in DF. The lime, onion, and cliantro do the trick. What a surprise to snack on that...something you probably are going to find more and more around the US.

The BBQ is always fantastic. You just can't go wrong. And everything else about San Antonio makes it a wonderful place but a hard place to go back to after living abroad for so long. I mean, Texas is a great place and all Texans seem to know this and we all tend to be proud of who we are. Hugh the Giant once asked me...How do you know someone is from Texas? They tell you...sorry Hugh, no one cares if you are from North or South Carolilna, or is it Tennessee? Maybe Georgia? I can't remember...nor do I care...cause you ain't from Texas...but like I said, and as he said, Texas is pretty proud.

I just don't think I could go back. The weather was way too hot, photo work might be limiting, and life in general might be as tough as the scrub brush. Its not like life in pricey Honolulu is easy...but being a photographer might keep me away from the place I once proudly call home but who knows. And then having a Japanese wife...well, ,if she can't have her ramen...well...there is hell to pay.

Life is what you make of it...nah thats too much of a cliche...

I wrote a few weeks ago about a "...the only thing I can share with you while I am so far away is the moon... as it will always be the same... no matter where you are...the moon is always the same..." I think what all that means is that we are always the same no matter where we go or live our lives. I am still defined by where I was born, what I grew up eating, who raised me, what culture surrounded me...all to some extent mind you.

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One of the projects my Mom set out for me while I visiting was to throw away lots of old stuff that was cluttering my parents closet and garage. My Dad and brother have laid siege to the empty spaces of my parent's home with stuff that should just be thrown away. What good are old memories when they are gone? The present is sometimes much more pleasant that the distant past. Why hold on to a match book from a long gone date? Or a photo of someone I can't even remember? Even old awards and swimming medals are hardly something anyone would have a strong interest in seeing other than a sad me. Oh longing for youth and simpledom...

I trashed old love notes, letters, books, reports, and junk that needed to be tossed. I would like to be nostalgic but its just not practical. I can't drag 20 years plus of old stuff with me where ever I go...I threw away old school projects, creative writing, some old photos of people who don't exist anymore for me, and thoughts from a long time ago. I did save old photos of times I hardly remembered. I shipped those back and hopefully I will spend some time scanning some faded dirty negs and remind myself of what I've become.

Like I said, its not so much of where and how I am, its more of who I am and where I came from...no?



I shot my Dad in front of the mural at Pico de Gallo downtown. My Dad is probably singlehandedly the worst photo subject hands down. If he doesn't have his eyes closed, he just doesn't let us capture him. As a younger man, he peacocked his way through life with dandy clothes, slick hair, and a debonair flare that lacked substance but full of style. I am somewhat amazed that he actually came out pretty decent in this photo.

Overall, San Antonio proved to be a great trip. Lots to ponder, lots to miss, and lots to remember.

Thanks Tracey Woods!