About a month ago, I took a trip to San Antonio. It’s only about an hour and a half away from Austin, but getting away for a Sunday felt like a year-long vacation. People underestimate the benefit of spending time alone. It keeps you in your head. You get to make each and every decision on your own schedule—dependent on no one but yourself. It’s good to travel alone. It was a rainy morning, and I spent the drive listening to Shakey Graves’ first album Roll the Bones. There I was, straight back in my senior year of college (a trip in itself). My day began at the San Antonio Museum of Art, which is by far my favorite thing in the city. It’s a four-floor museum filled with treasures from antiquity, a sizeable modern art collection, as well as plenty of space to think.
Solo travel is a feast for extroverts. I’ve known for a long time that if I’m feeling bad, the best thing for me to do is to leave the house. I get hungry—for new experiences, new sights, new sounds, new people. Travel indulges all of those needs, and doing so alone allows for impressive focus. Walking around in the museum, I kept my headphones on and my lens high.
After spending four (wish I was kidding, I’m not) hours in the SAMA, I decided to explore the neighborhood around the museum. It’s a bit of a torn down district, but it looks like small businesses are reclaiming some of the unused industrial space. I found a coffeeshop called Rosella Coffee Co. and treated myself to a magnificently rich sandwich: provolone, carved turkey, a sweet creamy herbed mayonnaise, and fig jam, all between two pieces of potato bread (swoon). The rest of the afternoon presented some challenges. It turns out there was some sort of convention in town, so any parking that may have been available was completely gone. I’d wanted to visit a gallery downtown, but couldn’t find a place to park. I spent an inordinate amount of money to park in a garage and set out on foot. There’s something so pleasant about just snapping pictures and not answering to anyone. I walked for miles, sat in on a mariachi Mass, ate chocolate ice cream for dinner—some healing stuff.