After a year of traveling (that ended almost this day last year) in which I hopped cheap planes at the last minute to reach remote places like Santorini or Barbastro, I forgot how to find charm in the place least remote to me: my hometown of San Antonio, Texas.
This past Labor Day weekend I got to bring four of the loveliest Nashville girls I know home with me. Two had never been to Texas and none had ventured into the vast cultural experience that is San Antonio. I did things I never would have done had I gone home without them. And I saw the beauty of my city in a way I never would have had I simply done the usual: mall, favorite Italian place, mall, church, maybe the mall…
I didn’t even bring my camera, thinking, “What do I have to take pictures of? I lived here for eighteen years and come back all the time.” Regretting that logic now. (Although staying out from behind the lens did allow me to soak moments up extra good.) We did all activities tourist: ate good Mexican food , listened to a guide explain the significance of the Alamo while warning us to keep our hands inside the river barge at all times, and even day tripped to what I call the Nashville of the Southwest, Austin.
Home is always nice, but when seen through the eyes of a first-timer, it’s that much nicer. The tortillas tasted better, the sun shone brighter, and I finally understood why San Antonio is the tourist attraction that it is.