With Houston, the H stands for ‘hustle.’ There’s a billboard that says, ‘Houston, hustle, heart, and home.’ That encompasses Houston.
– Paul Well
April 23rd, 2024: I awoke to a beautiful morning, knowing that I needed to leave my office to complete and finalize the trip plans. The night was busy. This would be my first solo trip. I wondered if I’d be able to make it home safely. I took a quick nap before packing my clothes and other essentials. I had two ‘Kamiliant’ suitcases: one for check-in and one for carry-on. I filled my money bag with what I needed. It took some time to finish this. My parents encouraged me to wear the HEAD-branded hoodie and trousers for the flight since they would be the most comfortable.
Mum gave me a small purse containing cents, pennies, and euro coins collected and brought from Dad’s previous international trips. She instructed me to spend them. Dad loaded the necessary monies into the card I purchased. He also gave me a small piece of paper containing emergency contact information and addresses, including those of my country’s embassy, in case I needed them. And around 20:30, I had a modest, light dinner.
The luggage for the trip…
The airport bus, KIA-5D, was scheduled to depart from home at 22:20 hours. My parents agreed to accompany me to the airport. You’re familiar with the family custom of saying farewell to their children before a significant event or purpose. Dad wanted to give me some more cash in INR (Indian rupees), so he stopped at an ATM on his way to the bus stop. We noticed our Volvo bus parked on the dusty grounds at 22:10 hours. While Dad went inside, Mum and I waited by the ATM, and to our amazement, the bus left. What the heck? Mum immediately instructed me to tell Dad, and she rushed after the bus as it went. Indeed, she is a slow runner who returned panting for breath. Dad, surprised, emerged, while the others sat outside glanced at us in confusion. Have we missed our bus? The next one would arrive at 03:00 the next day (too late for us because my flight departs at 04:30 hours).
Another airport bus veered onto the grounds as it passed through the barrier and soon parked. We decided not to take another chance and proceeded directly to the bus. We sought explanations. The bus driver explained that the bus had already departed and was on its way to the bus depot. It instantly left for the airport at 22:20. Sorry for the grainy photos; the bus (KIA-5D) drove fast on its route before connecting with the main highway at a busy circle and continuing to the airport. Mum told me to doze off on the bus, but the ride was a little rough. There was little traffic on the roadways. The lights from a passing car’s high beams interrupted my nap, but the ride was otherwise uneventful. At 00:15, we arrived at Terminal 1 of the airport. However, overseas planes depart from Terminal 2.
Shuttle buses travel between Terminals 1 and 2 (abbreviated T1 and T2). The airport shuttles will also provide this job. However, because the majority of passengers use T1 for flight travel, they may spend more time there before moving on to T2 and departing for their city excursion. When we arrived at Terminal 1, there were already long lines for the shuttle bus. We decided to wait until the next one. This bus departed at 00:40 hrs. Another one has already arrived at the stop. It left at 00:45. We’re fortunate that we don’t have to wait long in Terminal 1. It took around five minutes to reach T2. After saying farewell to my parents, it was time to go on. The Emirates check-in desks were located in B18-B30. First and business class passengers had separate ‘priority’ check-ins. Whereas economy class passengers, including me, had to wait in a long line. It took me around 45 minutes to reach the counter.
After checking my medium-sized Kamiliant luggage, I proceeded to the immigration counter. The officer enquired about the trip, including some unusual details that I will not share. He maintained his composure and was occasionally hilarious as he happily stamped my passport. The luggage check went well. On my way to the gate (C5), I stopped at a Starbucks for a coffee before proceeding. I’d passed by these duty-free shops before and opted not to go this time.
April 24th, 2024: As previously remarked, the T2 terminal, while superb, appeared overly-beautified. I arrived at my gate at 03:00 and texted my folks. There weren’t many people in the waiting hall, so I nodded off while my ears could hear the Lufthansa and Virgin Atlantic announcements. Their specifics were given over the loudspeakers and largely concern late passengers (those who have not yet boarded the plane).
Terminal 2, Kempegowda International Airport, Bangalore, India.
In the T2 terminal, I observed an abundance of JCDecaux advertisements, particularly promoting ‘Danube Properties in Dubai’. A quick search on my phone turned up these apartments in Dubai, which are apparently affordable for the working class. It’s a little uncommon that it doesn’t highlight the city where this airport is located. At 03:45, announcements for the Emirates boarding began. Passengers were supposed to embark in zones (A–F), and I was in Zone D.
It’s an Airbus 380-800. I sat in seat 87G (the aisle seat). This is my first time flying with Emirates, and I’ve heard great things about it. Despite my drooping eyelids, I was able to observe the events here. I was in front of an ICE (Information, Communication, and Entertainment) system, which had a monitor and a headset. The front chairs include folding monitors and more legroom. Every seat included a blanket and a pair of non-noise-cancelling headphones wrapped in plastic. As I boarded the plane and stowed my baggage into the overhead storage box, I was hailed by the crew. They were busy accommodating passenger requests and prepping for takeoff. Safety announcements were made in an audiovisual format. There is also a pamphlet that explains these. Not long after, a female passenger approached me and asked me to switch seats. I refused.
She tried to persuade me by suggesting that the passengers next to me were her relatives. Again, I stood motionless until she summoned a crew member to meet with me. She explained her predicament and offered me two options. I can decline or give up my seat. I initially declined, but changed my mind and offered this seat to the lady. This crew member (I can’t remember her name) removed my luggage and left. I waited while she spoke with Nadine, the chief purser. I was assigned a seat with additional legroom. Wow, this is fantastic! A crew member inquired, “Are you happy now?” A French lady sat beside me.
The flight took off at 04:30 IST. I was served a main course of Indian “vegetable biriani” and two Greek yogurts as appetizers. During the flight, I spent some time familiarizing myself with the ICE system. The information system comprised modules for flight information, cameras that observed the aircraft from the tail, body (undersurface), and head, as well as information on Dubai (there were additional sections on Dubai, sample routes that a tourist may take, Arabian experiences, and so on). The communication system included modules for connecting to Wi-Fi. (Emirates provides in-flight Wi-Fi, “OnAir”). Internet access for texting could be supplied for free. However, subscriptions for internet connection for other purposes (excluding media streaming) are $20. This price may vary according on the passenger’s class and the number of miles accumulated.
At 07:45 AST, I arrived at Dubai International Airport Terminal 3. Sophia and Lydia, the crew members serving the passengers (where I was sitting), engaged in conversation with me. They seemed tired from their efforts. However, they indicated that they were quite pleased with their position at Emirates. I read in the news that when they generate a big profit, they give their staff a bonus (which can continue for around 5-6 months). Pilots are chauffeured to their private, lavish homes in Dubai.
I was happy with the crew’s assistance during this journey. Professional. Caring. The passenger wins! I thanked the chief purser personally for her decision. As I deplaned and entered the terminal, I checked my phone to see when my connecting flight to Houston would depart. I had two hours and thirty minutes to complete the drive and get to the gate. An overcrowded airport, indeed. Dubai International Airport has the world’s largest international passenger flow. This implies it’s an important hub for worldwide connectivity.
As I approached the gates, I proceeded through the luggage screening area. A lot of hustle and bustle, sweat, and scrambling to get things into the trays, with the trays occasionally colliding with those in front of them. However, the cops at Dubai International Airport remained calm and composed throughout their jobs. On my way to the gate (the gate number was not initially listed, but it was later announced that boarding would take place at the A9 gate), I stopped by the Dubai Duty-Free shops (“Gifts from Dubai”) and purchased a couple of edible items for my aunt (baklavas, Medjoul dates, and large-sized Swiss chocolates made by Nestle). Other items for sale were watches, alcohol, and souvenirs.
I quickly looked at them. Rolex clocks adorned the passenger walkways. A small queue formed outside the gate, which ultimately vanished. The passengers walked back. I sat in the chairs, packing the items I had purchased at duty-free shops. Whew, it is challenging to transport these items in my carry-on luggage. Curious about what was going on (and not wanting to miss my flight), I got up and approached the officer stationed at the gate. He immediately stated that boarding would take place at a separate gate (A16).
Terminal 3, Dubai International Airport, Dubai, UAE
And, as sheep, we had to walk to the next one. And I reached. There was a huge queue! It is unusually long, measuring nearly 0.6 miles. It took approximately forty minutes to get through the wait. Every step I took felt endless. At the same time, I felt dehydrated. I was hungry, yet despite the humidity, I did not feel giddy. Here’s the problem with traveling alone (albeit you could argue that I should have packed some energy snacks to munch on while walking). There are several restaurants near the A16 entry, including McDonald’s. Passengers who did not go alone gained an advantage.
He or she may enter McDonald’s, grab a snack, and return while the other passenger waits in line. I wanted to have a snack as my hunger pangs intensified, but I couldn’t. I noticed an American vibe here. There were very few Arabs among the people I was standing with. Many folks appeared to be resting at McDonald’s, staring comfortably at the passengers in the queue.If you wait here alone for a long time, you will feel frustrated. (You could argue that if you go in economy class, waiting makes you feel like a common guy). However, there was no mention of zones here.
When I arrived at the gate and handed over my passport and boarding pass to the staff, I felt like I had won. But it is not over. The ordeals are yet to begin. As I descended the escalator, I was astonished to notice another wait. What the heck? And I thought it was done. As I arrived on the lower level, I noticed that the first and business class passengers had already boarded. Standing in another line that unexpectedly split, I observed as security personnel searched the luggage for narcotics. There were two Arab and one African officials inspecting the bags. I was standing in the middle of the line, where a tall Arab was checking each passenger in the most thorough manner I had ever seen. The African officer was a little more accommodating in this regard, and the passengers in his queue moved faster.
When my turn came, he told me to unpack my bag while he emptied it of all my clothes and duty-free goods. With an electronic probe (for detecting narcotics) in hand, he searched through my suitcase and entered it into a machine (I believe it’s a portable spectrophotometer that can detect the chemical makeup of the substance). Nothing turned up. All of the luggage’s pockets were also searched. Then it is my turn. I empty my pockets, and he physically examines me. He combed the probe through my clothes, like he had with the bags, looking for drugs. It took about five minutes to do this. I was dehydrated. However, he was courteous enough to give me time to repack my luggage. Packing the duty-free items proved tough. But I eventually finished it.
I was told to wait in the waiting hall, which was placed before the screening room. Finally, I sat down, took some pictures, and texted my family. The flight’s departure was delayed. After almost a half-hour, the crew called out economy class passengers by zone. Mine was Zone D. While walking down the airbridge to the airplane, an Indian middle-aged lady attempted to bypass the queue and did not appear to know much English. After avoiding my position in the queue, the American lady in front of me seemed to have given her a good talking to. Regardless, I ignored the Indian lady. Three passengers in wheelchairs also boarded the flight. As they were hauled into the aircraft, the crew urged me to wait. I gave way to them. They had better access than an able-bodied passenger.
I found my seat (87G, an aisle seat) and observed a lady passenger sitting beside me. The two chairs next her were unoccupied. I reserved this seat a day before it was frozen because no other customers had secured a seat here. I believed I could sleep soundly. She was, however, assigned a seat because she was one of the passengers affected by the Dubai flooding, which forced the cancelation of flights. As a result of the floods, tourists were given trips at a later date. Mr. Hilal and Mr. Moe were the crew members who helped us out. Unlike the last flight, I did not receive a warm greeting here. Minutes passed and the flight was yet to depart. Why? I had no clue. I asked Hilal for mineral water because I was so thirsty. He handed it to me after a while (Mai Dubai).
As the delay grew longer, the American song Big Rock Candy Mountain, sung by Harry McClintock, was played continually on the plane. I noticed the passengers’ growing frustration. I spoke with a lady passenger on her way to Houston to join her husband. And the next thing I knew, the issue had escalated, with two passengers (a man and a woman) in two different rows screaming and shouting at each other. The female passenger seemed to have missed out on a blanket, as the temperature inside the plane decreased with each passing minute.
Because the workers looked to be slow in giving supplies, she requested the blanket from a man passenger seated in another row. Two chairs adjacent to him were empty. The man reacted aggressively, shouting first in English, then Farsi, because the female was also Iranian. Several passengers on the plane were of Persian descent. I asked the lady passenger next to me to pass the blankets in our section of vacant seats to her. She thanked her, and the man cast me a lingering glance.
What was going on, and why the long delay? Neither the pilot nor the crew provided an explanation. I resolved to wait patiently, because patience is the mother of all virtues. Mr. Moe provided each passenger a pack of toiletries. I examined its contents and discovered a toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb, some nice socks, earplugs, and eye protection. Except for the last three things and the toothpaste, the rest were constructed of wood. Emirates was committed to the idea of wildlife preservation. How’s my seat? An ICE monitor and a headset were accessible, and I could recline, though not as much as the middle seats in the middle row.
Hilal was conversing with a passenger while wearing a pulse oximeter to monitor his vital signs. I called him because I wanted to learn more about being a doctor. I presented my credentials and approached the tourist. He was from Pakistan, and his co-passenger was a nurse who was caring for him. I chatted with him and discovered that he had edema in both of his ankles. The edema did not progress beyond the ankle, although he had serious medical problems, including heart surgery four months before. I told the passenger and the nurse about how to avoid DVT (deep vein thrombosis), and because he had prior medical issues, I asked the crew to monitor his vital signs and the nurse to report any new symptoms he noticed. He had edema as a result of his lengthy immobilization, but no DVT or dyspnea, despite the fact that he was predisposed to acquiring these conditions. And the flight is expected to last approximately fifteen hours.
When I queried Hilal about the delay, he said that it was due to a three-year-old youngster with a fever and frequent bouts of loose feces. She and her parents are on their way to a Dubai hospital to be admitted. The delay is due to the time required to identify and remove their luggage. After an hour, the pilot gave the same reasons. After nearly two hours, the flight was ready to take off.
And, as the plane took off for the United States, I set the clocks on my watch and phone to Central Time and promptly fell asleep. The trip passed over Western Iran (near Isfahan, Tabriz, and, most crucially, Lake Urmia, where there was some turbulence), eastern Turkey (near Van, Sivas, and Sinop), and then over the Black Sea into Bulgaria, Romania, Hungary, Poland, Germany, and Norway. The plane traveled over the Atlantic Ocean (Norwegian Sea), going via the Faroe Islands, Iceland, and southern Greenland before reaching the American continent (Newfoundland and Labrador, Ontario in Canada, and Michigan, Illinois, and Missouri in the United States before landing in Texas).
The in-flight ICE helped track the flight’s location and information. The World Explorer module on the ICE was more informative. If the ICE is not used for an extended period of time, it enters a screensaver mode, with alternating scenes of a world map with times mentioned in major cities, the flight’s position, times in Dubai and Houston, and the position of the Qibla.
I opted for the vegetarian dinner (for health reasons), which featured a main course of “kofta curry and vegetable cutlery,” a side dish of Margarita pizza, and an appetizer of ice cream with bread, cheese spread, and black-currant jelly spread. Other food options in the economy class included chicken sausage and bacon stew. First and business class passengers are served different meals. I asked Mr. Moe if it was possible to purchase those dishes at the amount I was willing to pay. “It’s not possible,” he clarified.
Their attitude toward me has changed, and they have engaged me in disputes. Both are originally from Lebanon and went to the UAE to pursue better prospects. Mr. Moe once informed me, while passing out orange juice, that he really likes me, which I found unusual. I felt a little weird talking to him, but he is a lovely, industrious man. He invited me to travel Dubai with him if I wanted to visit the country in the future. Mr. Hilal didn’t express those emotions to me.
As the voyage progressed, I dozed off, walked through the corridors, stretched my legs, and applied moisturizer to my dry skin several times. Aside from the unnecessary long wait, the bathroom was my least favorite part of the journey. Wow, the tissue papers dumped into a garbage were overflowing, producing a faint odor. I feel Emirates should work on this. And the passengers as well. Other passengers sat near me became friendly and wanted to speak with me after Mr. Hilal informed me of the Pakistani passenger’s plight. I check on him periodically, and he reports no symptoms.
There are more than two crew members in this section of the plane. Other crew members, primarily ladies, are also stationed here. But they’re blunt. On one occasion, I had a huge amount of trash on my seat and asked a crew member to remove it. A female crew member informed me that she could not do it. I had to go to the crew members’ room to get rid of my rubbish.
Many passengers were watching movies on TV. I listened to the uncommon Arabic music that Mr. Moe had introduced me to. He enjoyed music as much as I did. Nancy Ajram’s (also known in Lebanon as Moe and Hilal) “Greatest Hit Songs” album rapidly became one of my favorites. He also suggested I listen to a few songs by Umm Kulthum, an ancient and well-known Egyptian singer. Isn’t it unusual for someone to listen to Arabic music during their first trip to the United States?
And around 16:30, I saw the plane cross Lake Michigan into the United States’ hinterlands, going through Davenport, Missouri, and St. Louis before entering Texas. The clock hit 18:00 hours CT, and the pilot declared that we were landing before giving an overview of Houston weather. Remember the lady traveler who chastised the Indian woman? She was seated in the row to my right. Fortunately, all of the neighboring chairs were empty, and she drifted away for quite some time. She inquired about the most convenient route to her Houston house. Despite being asked this question by a first-time tourist to the United States, I answered, “You can take Uber or Lyft taxicabs.”
At 18:50 p.m., the flight touched down at Houston George Bush Intercontinental Airport, Terminal E. That was long. As the guests exited, I presented Mr. Hilal and Moe with two different Swiss chocolates in appreciation for their caring and compassionate actions, especially ordering them not to share them with other crew members. I snapped selfies with them, and sure enough, I was the last one to leave the plane. Indeed, the airport staff were taken aback when they saw me deboarding just as they were about to remove the seal between the airplane and the air bridge. If there were any more visitors waiting to deboard, the female personnel alerted the crew members.
A female crew member asked me if I was a doctor, which was amusing. By now, the crew and pilots have understood that there is only one in-flight doctor, and it is me. She noticed how young I looked and assumed I was the son of the lady traveler seated next to me. As I walked into the airport, I took a close look at the bird that had carried me to the United States.
As I approached the Customs and Border Protection (CBP) counters, I noticed a lot of patrolling, which indicated a significant security presence at the time. As a result, I was unable to get many images here. I apologize for this. As I approached the immigration counters, the halls were initially empty, including the duty-free shops (which are limited in number). Then I noticed a swarm near the counters. Two lines were established: one for US citizens and green card holders, and one for non-US citizens. The crew lines were separate. The latter line included a lengthy lineup. Notices were put stating that photography is strictly prohibited.
The airport workers performed an outstanding job greeting guests and sending them to appropriate counter lineups. When my turn came, the lady CBP officer checked my passport and asked if I had any food, including spices. I misheard it and replied yes, which garnered a suspicious look from the officer before saying, “I beg your pardon”. She asked the question carefully, and I responded. I went to the baggage claim department and grabbed my luggage.
I turned on my phone and saw three missed calls from my uncle. To summarize, I had planned to spend two days in Houston with my maternal aunt and uncle (who have lived there for twenty years). I texted him that I had arrived. While proceeding into the arrival section, one of the customs declaration agents asked me, “Sir, where are you from?” I replied. He motioned for me to walk forward. There was construction going on at the airport, making departure difficult.
My uncle instructed me to exit the airport and wait near the passenger pick-up area. I recognized him as he waited for me in his decrepit Toyota SUV. He said a quick hello and threw my belongings into the trunk before leaving. I was too fatigued to speak, but my uncle asked a few questions that I won’t go into. As we traveled down the Sam Houston Tollway toward their home in Missouri City (near Houston), I observed something outside the car windows that resembled the United States. Uncle pointed out the tall, glistening towers that make up downtown Houston’s skyline. The distance was around 40 miles. Sorry for the photos again, but the vehicles were moving fast and the sun had already set. As a result, the photographs appear little blurry.
The way the city’s structures and roadways were laid out and organized astounded me. Wherever you see one vehicle shop, there are a dozen others nearby. The same applies to hospitals and clinics. Nobody walks down the road. Everyone uses a car to go about. Unlike other public transportation systems, it is hardly used in the United States. Uncle told me how vital the country is. A country with cities and villages separated into good and evil neighborhoods. Residents of the former pay taxes, and the government maintains the roads and provides services. However, the latter is plagued by crime, and the people do not pay their taxes. That’s capitalism.
So, using this logic, I reasoned, albeit hesitantly (because that’s how life is in the United States), that people usually don’t use public transportation because there are a lot of homeless people and criminals who use it for nefarious purposes, their access to healthcare facilities and the quality of the services varies depending on the neighborhood, etc. The list goes on. He then tells me that those who work hard and have families succeed, whilst those who are lazy struggle. The same may be said of mobile phones possessed by Americans, with iPhones for the working class and Android phones for the poor. (For the most part of my trip, I was correct!)
After about an hour, I arrived at their home in Missouri City. The streetlights were feeble. By this time, practically every house had shut off its lights. The temperature outside was warm. I looked down the street, close to their house. As pitch-black as coal.
Aunt prepared dinner for me and showed me the room where I would spend the next two days (which was actually my cousin’s room; he is presently studying and sleeping in a hostel). She spoke with me briefly and asked about my ambitions in the United States. I went to bed at 23:30, knowing I was too tired. April 24 was a long day for me. On this particular day, I pushed time to its limits.
April 25th, 2024: The sun’s rays entered through the window blinds. It was 7:00 a.m., and I felt extremely refreshed. I didn’t have any jet lag. I twisted and turned in my queen-sized bed for a few more minutes before waking up. I had no precise intentions for today because I had set aside time for “rest”.
My aunt greeted me and asked what I was doing today. My mind was blank; I had no idea what I’d be doing. She was having a video conference with her siblings, which I did not participate in. I walked around her garden and observed her dog, Zachary. I despised dogs since I had bad childhood experiences with them (I was bit twice). And, of course, this dog did not like me, gazing at me ferociously as I returned inside. She proposes that I go to the city center and explore Houston’s largest mall, The Galleria, as well as the nearby Discovery Green. But first, she had to attend mass. I followed suit with her. We went to St. Lawrence Catholic Church to attend the ceremony. The homily was given by a visiting Vietnamese priest. Others looked at me briefly before turning to pray because I was a newcomer (I am Catholic). I asked the Lord for grace and safety for my future travels in the United States. The Eucharist was administered in a slightly different manner than in my home church.
The laypeople received the bread (the holy body of Christ) and gave it to the believers. Two people stood at the far ends of the church, holding a chalice of wine. You have to accept the chalice and drink (Christ’s sacred blood). Before returning the cup to the laywoman, I realized I had drunk a lot of alcohol. (My aunt told me she is a practicing doctor in the neighborhood). The church looked wonderful, and I admired the furniture and organization.
It’s more than just a church; there’s a school next door, and I heard many of kids playing. The area is predominantly white, with a few Asian residents. She’s quite religious. The next destination was Galleria Mall. She utilized Apple Maps to plan her route to the destination. We took the Southwest Freeway (I-69) before exiting onto Westheimer Road, where the mall was located. As we approached downtown, Aunt pointed out the destitute and beggars.
We parked in the basement and took the elevator to floor one. The Galleria complex comprises the namesake shopping mall, two hotels, a health club, and a financial center. The first three floors were designated as shopping areas. Levels 6-12 are allocated for the Galleria Financial Center. The offices and businesses share a single atrium. It claims to be Texas’ largest mall and the eighth largest in the United States.
The stores here feature designer brands and retail outlets like Macy’s, Saks Fifth Avenue, Nordstrom, and Neiman Marcus. The lower levels are home to restaurants that serve American cuisine. There’s also an ice skating rink here. Before exploring the mall, we stopped by a restaurant for a juice cocktail and a salmon fry with cheese.
As we wandered, my aunt received a call from her son, who said he would be coming at the Galleria shortly after work. After ten minutes, he approaches my aunt, hugs her, shakes hands with me, and asks, “How are you, bro?” I won’t go into any more detail here, but I will say one thing. I last saw my cousin ten years ago, and now he’s standing here wearing two perfume tags. What’s he doing with it? He told his aunt that he enjoyed the perfumes, but they cost about $250 each. And he wanted to purchase them. He seemed more concerned with the smell of the perfumes than with the pleasure of seeing me after ten years.
He walks with her mother and speaks to her loudly. Every time. Something I don’t usually do unless the conversation has turned bad. My aunt informs me that my cousin would take me to Discovery Green before she leaves for home. So my cousin and I talked about various subjects while shopping at Neiman Marcus and Saks Fifth Avenue. I needed to buy some clothes, so I looked for ones made of 100% cotton. Unfortunately, there were no salespeople, and all of the outfits I looked at were made of polyamide in varying ratios, which I could not tolerate. My cousin advised me that these garments were far too expensive and suggested that I buy from factory outlets such as Tanger Outlets.
The Galleria, Houston, TX.
We leave the mall and travel to Discovery Green to pick up my other cousin (his brother) at his University of Houston residence. We drove down I-69 (the Southwest Freeway) before detouring into the Museum District, and he informed us that using the public transportation system (the METRO) is prohibited for the reasons mentioned above. He informed me that I would need a car if I wanted to travel anywhere. Certain parts of the Museum District’s road after the highway appeared to be poorly maintained. After the pick-up, we go to Discovery Green (I’m not sure how I chose this location; I could have chosen Hermann Park). He parks his car on McKinney Street, roughly a 10-minute drive from the campus.
And here I was at Discovery Green, a small park in downtown Houston. The 10-acre park includes Kinder Lake, public entertainment spaces, and bandstands. It is next to the George R. Brown Convention Center, promenades, jogging trails (McNair Foundation Jogging Trail), a large fountain (the Gateway Fountain), and a performance stage (the Anheuser-Busch stage). There is also a children’s playground and a pet park. It is located among the tall towers of various hotels, including the Hilton, Marriott, and Hess Tower. The Toyota Center, home to the Houston Rockets NBA basketball team, is conveniently located near Discovery Green.
We walked through the park for over forty minutes. Unfortunately, no events were scheduled here. The park’s photographs were mostly of organizers unloading a container of goods for installation for an event on Friday. The public notice board presents a schedule of activities, with the majority of them taking place on weekends. Aside from that, the occasional Houstonian might prefer to relax on the grass and read a book. The others and their children want to see ducks in the lake and marvel at them. The mood is serene, and the weather is overcast for the day.
Discovery Green, Houston, TX.
It was almost 17:00 p.m., and my cousins told me it was time to go home. When I came home, my aunt and uncle asked about the places I had visited. I didn’t want to mince words, so I nervously said, “Great!” They wanted to discuss the trip tomorrow. Would I like to visit the Moody Gardens at the Johnson Space Center or elsewhere, such as Galveston?
Uncle constantly asked me if I wanted to change my plans and visit the space center, which is famous among tourists. I had no desire to view it because the main control center is no longer here, but rather in Cape Canaveral, Florida. It’s more like a museum, and I’ve heard that visitors may touch moon rocks, sit in simulators, listen to astronaut stories, and purchase a T-shirt with the NASA insignia as a souvenir. I resolved to go somewhere else—somewhere natural. So my thoughts were fixated on Galveston.
Following a discussion with them, including my relatives, I agreed to go to Galveston tomorrow. My uncle and aunt will leave tomorrow for me. The rest of the day was spent visiting my uncle’s brother and his family (whose house was right across from ours) and talking with my cousins. They ordered dinner for me from a local restaurant where they used to eat as kids. My younger cousin observed that I appeared famished despite my height, yet I spotted him taking various nutraceuticals and vitamins, many of which I told him were unnecessary and irrelevant. But he didn’t heed my advice. My younger cousin, like my elder, seemed to be taller. He has changed a lot since our previous meeting.
After dinner and a quick bath, I went to bed at 22:00. My cousins stayed the night and slept late after playing games on their Sony PlayStations.
April 26th, 2024: My phone’s alarm clock rang. The time was 07:30. I still had no jet lag and was pleased with how well I adjusted to Central Time. After a quick phone call with my parents, I left my room. Uncle was in the kitchen making breakfast for me. He greeted me and asked if I slept okay. Aunt had just awoken and was ready herself. Cousins are still sound asleep.
The aunt left the room, followed by her sons. My older cousin worked in an office and preferred to conduct business from home, whereas my younger cousin had upcoming semester examinations. They needed to go back. Returning to the day before, the elder one suggested we go to Moody Gardens and eat lunch at the Rainforest Cafe, which he and his girlfriend had previously visited. He is an amateur restaurant critic who is familiar with several restaurants in tourist regions, including Mexico and Brazil. I looked through my e-book “Rough Guides to the USA” and located the section on Texas, which included a few pages about Galveston. Moody Gardens is mentioned in a tiny paragraph.
Uncle still asked whether I wanted to change my plans. Uncle and I spent the next hour preparing ourselves. I packed my Quechua shoulder bag with backup clothes, tick repellant, a water bottle, and my meds. I forgot to bring an extra pair of slippers when I went to the beach. Aunt allowed me to carry one of my younger cousin’s slippers.
And at 09:30, after saying our goodbyes to my relatives, we started our journey to Galveston.
Uncle tried to set up directions in his vehicle’s infotainment system (a BMW type), but was unable. I gave the instructions, and we got started. Instead of driving the Sam Houston Tollway and connecting to the I-45 expressway, GPS suggested taking Expressway 6, which connects the I-45 at Bayou Vista. We passed through the villages and towns of Sienna, Manvel, Alvin, Santa Fe, and Hitchcock before joining the I-45 expressway, which headed to Galveston Island.
It’s roughly 60 miles from home and took me an hour and a half to get there. Certain counties’ highways through Manvel, Santa Fe, and Hitchcock were riddled with cracks, indicating poor maintenance. Uncle explained that this is consistent with the shanty buildings seen nearby. Unlike Alvin County, these counties’ areas have not been well developed.
We drove on the Galveston Causeway. I noticed a number of beach houses and resorts on stilts. Aunt pointed out Tiki Island, which was visible from our car and featured beach cottages. However, renting them out is costly. The Interstate 45 then becomes Broadway Avenue. The town appears quiet, with few people on the Boulevard itself. The beaches around Seawall Boulevard would be the obvious epicenter.
The avenue was lined with palm trees, and the roads were rather calm on a weekday. The weather was varied, with both cloudy and sunny times. On the way to the Ferry Road, we spotted signs directing people to various beaches, such as Stewart Beach. The UTMB Hospital served the neighborhood. A ferry takes cars from Galveston Island to Port Bolivar on the Bolivar Peninsula. The ship that took us on our trip was named after Ray Stoker Jr., while the return cruise was named after Dewitt C. Greer, both of whom worked on Texas’ highway system. After an early mishap (we missed the road connecting to the boat before backtracking and connecting to the appropriate route, which was difficult due to heavy traffic from the ferry bound for Galveston), we boarded the vessel.
Cars boarded the ferry, and after a while, we turned off the car and went to the top decks to view the Gulf of Mexico and Galveston Bay. The vistas were hypnotic, however I must point out that standing in locations facing the bay was accompanied by strong winds. It was so windy at times that you had to be responsible for yourself or risk tumbling to the ground. To be honest, I did take photographs, although it was risky.
When I saw the bay, I had approximately twenty minutes left on the cruise. As our ship passed through, we spotted migratory birds, dredgers, and container ships. After arriving on the Bolivar Peninsula, we took a little ride on Highway 87. This highway connects High Island with Beaumont, Texas. Returning to Galveston via Highway 87 requires reentering Houston, which is inconvenient. Because there isn’t much beyond the Bolivar Peninsula, we chose to return and board the boat to Galveston. And it took another thirty minutes to return.
We decided to go to Moody Gardens first because it was around 13:00. The Boulevard was lined with hotels like the Grand Gaivez and Hilton, as well as restaurants and fast food joints. But this isn’t it. The town is home to a community of fishermen, therefore the roads and lanes that lead from the boulevard within are residential. On the other side, there was a beach. Unfortunately, the weather rapidly worsened, and two red flags were placed on the beach. We saw small piers as we traveled along. A larger pier, Pleasure Pier, acts as a student amusement park. Some joggers were seen on the beach, and some beachgoers were relaxing despite the fact that it was not the acceptable time. As the photographs show, the sky was not completely sunny.
We took Seawall Boulevard to 61st Street, then Stewart Street, Jones Street, and Hope Boulevard to get to Moody Gardens. We have arrived at our destination. The Moody Foundation runs the Moody Gardens, a hotel, and a golf course. Schlitterbahn, a water park, is close.
The Moody Gardens are an educational tourism destination that focuses on wildlife protection. There are three man-made pyramids: the Discovery Pyramid (which houses specific displays), the Aquarium, and the Rainforest. We decided to see the Rainforest Pyramid first. After obtaining a Rainforest and Aquarium combo ticket, I went inside while aunt and uncle explored the pyramids.
The subject is rainforest. The Rainforest Pyramid is meant to symbolize the forest floor, understory, canopy, and emergent levels of a rainforest. Remember that it is a man-made structure; at best, the students will receive educational experience. It’s well-designed, and there are plenty of information boards. It’s more than simply facts; viewers are asked questions that make them think as they follow the trail. Several animals and birds could be seen. There appears to be a bat cave and a pond full with piranhas. The America, Asia, and Africa routes are all established routes on the forest floor. Visitors can see how fish have adapted to the African Great Lakes, as well as sights of various birds such as toucans, red pheasants, and hornbills.
There are young volunteers working at Moody Gardens. They explain to visitors the importance of the research study they are performing, which will enable them to earn college credits later in their careers. The adventure ends in a dark chamber teeming with unusual creatures and plants, some of which are poisonous. To be honest, I learned a few things, including the concept of fungus gardens, why the Mayas built observatories in Mexico, how bugs can be used to combat pests like ladybugs, crypts, and midges, the unique abilities of certain fishes to catch prey, such as the archerfish, and the possibility of new discoveries in the Amazon rainforest. Before entering the dark chamber, press a button to smell the strong odor of Stapelia gigantia (Carrion flower). It tastes like rotten pork!
The Rainforest Pyramid, Moody Gardens, Galveston Island, TX
It was extremely enlightening, and I came out. They were waiting for me at the Garden Restaurant, which is situated inside the Pyramid. Other amenities available inside the pyramid include a large 4D and gigantic 3D theatre to simulate the rainforest, as well as a souvenir shop (Nature’s Wonders) that sells merchandise. Uncle suggested that because it was 14:30, we go to the Rainforest Cafe for lunch.
We drove to the restaurant on Seawall Boulevard. It is near the Hilton Hotel. Aside from the restaurant, there’s also a little shop that offers pricey items. I ordered an Italian pizza with shrimp tacos, and they served a chicken pizza with soda water. There are specific rules to follow when dining at an American restaurant. First, wait in front of the usher at the counter, who will assign you a seat. Second, most restaurants expect patrons to tip them. In today’s digital world, you can tip at the portable terminal by tapping or swiping your card. People arriving in large groups are typically expected to tip 18% as a gratuity fee.
The restaurant with a rainforest theme serves its clients perfectly by turning out the lights at regular intervals, and the animals escorting you to your dinner make noises and wag their heads and tails. The server is courteous enough to accommodate my unique cuisine requirements. The meal doesn’t appear immediately. It is freshly cooked.
The restaurant also has a bar. I ordered grape juice, and interestingly enough, the restaurant allows you to take the large glasses home and they will wash them for you. Indeed, a positive experience! I recommend you try this restaurant.
The Rainforest Cafe, Galveston Island, TX.
It was 16:00, and we were traveling back to Moody Gardens to visit another pyramid, the Aquarium. Uncle instructed me to return to the parking lot once I had finished visiting. I walked upstairs but it was closed. Google Maps on my phone says it shuts at 16:00, and I arrived around five minutes late. I attempted to open the doors but was unable. I contacted Uncle, who instructed me to ask the staff to let me in because I was a tourist visiting from another country. However, no personnel was present. It was silly to keep waiting here, so I returned. I was a little depressed, but my uncle had paid $50 for the tickets. He felt terrible about losing the money.
The weather has deteriorated, and it is currently raining. There was a light rain. Aunt proposed that we spend the remainder of the day shopping at the Tanger Outlets in Texas City. After giving it directions, we went out for the outlet store. The route involved driving down I-45 to Dickinson County, where the Tanger Outlets were located. After about thirty minutes on the road, we came across the store. Because the route was still under construction, neither Apple nor Google Maps provided real-time information about detour locations. Stop signs were not constructed in appropriate positions, so there is a high risk of car collision.
Uncle missed two detours, so we had to go another two miles before getting to the Tanger Outlets. I’m an expert navigator, and I volunteered to help, but they declined.
To access the store directory, click on the image. Many items are available at discounted prices. Were you expecting a large crowd here? However, it isn’t much. I purchased items for myself from Banana Republic, Nike, and the Gap Outlet, as well as a Tommy Hilfiger belt and a Michael Kors ladies’ purse. For example, Nike T-shirts designed in 2023 were available for $10 each. Aunt traveled to Carter’s and Oshkosh to purchase baby goods for a relative. In anticipation for Mother’s Day, we bought a couple of handwashes and soaps at a great price from Bath & Body Works.
Tanger Outlets, Dickinson County
And after an hour of shopping, I wanted to get some more supplies, primarily for my forthcoming trip to New York, so I stopped at a Walmart in Alvin City, about a twenty-minute drive from Dickinson on FM 517. During this time, I did not get a US SIM card. Walmart sells AT&T and Verizon Connect SIM cards, but not T-Mobile. One option is to get a SIM card for around $5 and a prepaid plan for $40/$50/$60, depending on their needs. Aunt suggested that I get a 14-day plan package from TracFone, a company I knew little about.
I purchased vitamins for Mum and myself at a Walgreens near our house.
We came home at 21:00 hours. It was a long trip. Uncle told me to activate the SIM card on my “realme” Android smartphone, which I had packed. Unfortunately, the phone did not identify the SIM card. Uncle tried to make my SIM card “work” by scratching the scratch-off stickers on the 14-day plan box. I had an Indian SIM card on my phone. He called customer support to try to apply this plan to my SIM card, but it was a futile attempt because the other end stated that the IMEI number on my phone was not recognized by any US-based carrier. Yes, you heard that right. I had no idea how significant this was until my event in New York City. Uncle realized he’d squandered another $20.
After dinner, I washed and dried my clothes before going to bed at 22:00.
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