Texas Road Trip - Over the Border
So, when reading the news from cities along the borderlands lately, it may not seem like such a good idea to travel over to Mexico for a day of shopping or an evening out. Which is a bit of a pity, for an excursion like that always seemed to be a fun thing; to visit a foreign country for a day, to enjoy the differences of "someplace else." There was always a little frisson of excitement, to the experience; here was another language, different tastes, bolder colors, spicier tastes, exotic music on the radio, unusual things for sale in the shops . . . heck, even the shops were different, some of them being pushcarts, or even just a picnic rug spread on the sidewalk.
The US is such a large country - as comedian Bill Cosby once observed, you could drive for days without ever hitting another language. Living somewhere within driving distance of a national boarder is therefore, a treat not generally bestowed upon most Americans - and that current threats prevent us from taking full advantage of that treat - well, it's just sad that some of the bigger cities on the Mexican side of the border are just not safe at present.
Under certain circumstances, and in smaller border-towns, though, it still seems to be safe enough to pay a visit - as long as one stays on the main streets and with friends. When I visited friends of a friend a week or so ago, at a Winter Texan/Snowbird nesting area in the Valley, we ventured over the border to Progresso, Mexico for an afternoon - and an absolutely splendid afternoon it proved to be, too.
Progresso is a very small and well-condensed, as border towns go; the international shopping part being about six blocks long and maybe two or three wide, on either side of the Avenida Benito Juarez, which stretches from the international bridge. There were generous numbers of bars and honky-tonks, but they seemed to be rather straight-up places offering tasty adult beverages and soft-drinks, nothing skeevy or red-light-district-ish about them. Actually, I think the bars and honky-tonks were far outnumbered by pharmacies, dentists, plastic surgeons and beauticians - which is far more revealing about what Progresso's economy is really based on.
Oh, and there were heaps of jewelry stores, with lots of silver and semi-precious stones on display: some from sidewalk vendors, but the very best was in permanent storefront establishments. The city fathers of Progresso have also set up a couple of huge, multi-storied mercados - with neatly organized aisles of glassware and pottery, leather-work, fashions, art and kitchen utensils. Really, you could spend hours in the largest of them, which was barely half a block from the end of the bridge from the Texas side, and never had to venture any farther - but then, what would be the fun in that?
Our friends recommended parking on the Texas side, and walking over - rather than be hung up in the traffic jam of vehicles returning. Be warned - New rules going into Mexico you will need a passport, or some kind of ID which is specific about your nationality and/or place of birth, in order to guarantee a hassle-free return - and be straight-up about what you have bought and are returning to the US with, as well. Other than that - Progresso is as much pure fun as a trip over the Border used to be.


Yes, there is a town called Comfort in the Hill Country., and another called Welfare; which if I were so inclined, I would make a small joke about. I will save the lame humor for the nearby town of Waring - which if it had it's own high school would certainly have a sports team called the "Waring Blenders." Alas, Waring appears to outsource their students, so there goes a good joke as well as terribly profitable sponsorship deal. But Comfort itself is a pretty little town, dating from the 1850s, situated a comfortable driving distance from my
There had once been a more or less permanent Indian encampment on that spot, convenient to water, to groves of pecan trees and plenty of game. Comfort was established by pretty much the same solid and canny German immigrants who settled throughout the Hill Country, and contributed immeasurably towards the cultural and business life in San Antonio, itself. The founding fathers of Comfort settled on a tract of land where the road between San Antonio and Fredericksburg crosses the Guadalupe River, and set about improving themselves and the land.
There were several attempts at building water-powered mills at Comfort, and the settlers tried to grow the sort of crops they were accustomed to growing in the Old Country, before realizing that the area was more suited to ranching; of cattle, sheep and goats. Lumber and shingles, pecans and burnt limestone for making mortar and plaster - any and all of that were produced in the Comfort in the early years.
Presently, Comfort is known for the historic district, centered on half a dozen blocks along High and Main Streets - late 19th century homes and businesses, interspersed with gardens and trees, and sometimes with curious adornments . . . like a row of sculptured birds along the store-front. We spent what seemed like hours, exploring the Comfort Antique Mall - which seemed like an ordinary little store-front on High Street, but went back, and back, and back and back forever, with every nook and corner stuffed with interesting oddments.
When in search of something to eat, we were directed to a converted garage, which now houses a bakery-café-bookstore-gifts-and-wine-tasting establishment; it's called
There is a unique monument in Comfort, Texas - the only memorial dedicated to Unionists, south of the Mason-Dixon line, and one of only a handful of places where the 
There is a saying that the difference between the English and the Americans is that to an American, a hundred years is a long time ago, and to an Englishman, a hundred miles is a great distance. Apt - and in a fair way to be true. All across the Southwest, our very oldest existing buildings, aside from various Indian pueblos, are

Then it's time to make dandelion wine. When my Granny Jessie passed on, in the early 1990's, one of the things that came to me was a little square wooden box full of recipe cards, although to be frank and fair, Granny Jessie probably did not use the recipes in it; some pre-printed on standard stock, cut out from magazines, others hand-copied in pencil, or merely cut from newspaper pages - and most of those are as brittle as ashes. No, I think she saved them because they intrigued her, or someone at a church pot-luck supper who brought something that she liked the taste of, scribbled it down for her, and she thought that she might make them someday. Some of the recipes cut from the newspaper have dates on them - from the 1970s mostly. Some of them, of course, may be older. But Granny Jessie wasn't that much of an adventurous cook - even before Grandpa Jim died; Grandpa Jim being one of those who thought salt and pepper was about as far out on the culinary edge of things as any human being ought to go. No, Granny Jessie did basic, early 20th century American cooking - which, when it was good, was very good. Her rice pudding (with raisins in it!) and her version of shoo-fly pie was sublime.
Among the adventurous curiosities in the little wooden recipe box was a newspaper clipping which so intrigued me that I copied out all the recipes therein - the topic was dandelions. Everyone knows what dandelions are, and people who are proud of their lawns spend a great deal of effort, expense and toxic chemicals eradicating them . . . and expense and effort which might not be necessary if we considered dandelions as a garden crop, instead. Yes, indeedy, the darned things are edible - at least when they are tender and young, and have not had any of the aforementioned chemicals poured upon them. Instead, what about a salad of dandelion greens - with bacon! Everything goes better with bacon! And what about dandelion wine?