Cowboy Country!

Texas! Its famous for its malls, its barbecue ribs, its accent, and , of course, its Cowboys. Deciding that a couple of days in Downtown Dallas was more than enough I took to the DART again, this time in the opposite direction. Destination: Fort Worth.

I'd been told by a few people that one of the must see things whilst staying in Dallas was to take a visit to the Stockyards, home of all things Cowboy. It was an adventure in itself just to get here. Again, the area showing its lack of interest in tourists, it was a case of taking a regular bus there once I'd arrived at the Fort Worth DART station. There weer no signposts and no indication from the bus or bus driver as to where we were and as a result I stayed on the bus as we drove right passed it. It was nothing a backtracking walk wouldn't take care of but I figured there would at least be some indication of where it was.

It was however, unquestionably worth the effort. You can quickly see how this place might have looked in the days of yesteryear. Its catering for tourists now, of course but it retains a classic air. The old stores, the roads and the historic railroads, than whilst now no longer have helped keep the traditional cattle industry history alive. The Stockyard station is now an uninspiring bunch of shops that are neither here nor there but I did get my fill of Texas Barbecue Ribs at a nearby restaurant. The offer was an all you can eat one and it was difficult to turn down the chance to experience a real taste of Texas in the heart of the place itself.





Hearing that there would be a Cattle Run in the late afternoon I decided to stick around to see it and take in some of the other sites around the place before that hour came around. I passed by the Rodeo. I had really wanted to take in a show while I was here in Texas but with the last train back to the hostel being so early it rendered it virtually impossible. I would have to face up to missing out on that one. I caught "Billy Bob's" out of the corner of my eye and headed over. I'd been told this was a "Texas Institute" but had absolutely no idea what the place was about or what lay ahead inside. I decided the dollar entry was worth it to find out!


Billy Bob's is a bar. But no ordinary bar. Its a all in one, super sized mega bar! The giant arena plays host to not only the bar but a restaurant of epic proportions, 12 pool tables, a whole entertainment area and a Bucking Bronco that looks like some sort of "Ultimate Edition" if such a thing was available.






I had to pass on the Cowboy Hall of Fame unfortunately. I remain intrigued as to just what is inside that building. Maybe I'll find out one day but I was here now to see the Cattle Run. Crowds had gathered all around the area and had packed the streets to see what was a daily occurrence here. The cattle were brought down the streets with the Cowboys in control of their beasts. It wasn't anything fancy but I'm glad I did stick around to see it.




Getting back to the hostel could easily have taken me a couple of days. I had been waiting for the bus to take me back to the station when I heard a voice calling to me "That only runs on a Saturday. You'll be there all night if you wait there!". Once again, the helpful signposting here had nearly played havoc! Fortunately I was correctly informed and found my way back home without too many problems. There's no doubt that this trip is worth it and its certainly something different to Dallas! That in itself is a bonus!!

Down Town Dallas

My run in with Mr Con Man may well prove to be a valuable lesson especially with South America and South East Asia still to come on this trip. Nothing bad came of it, just an awkward half hour or so and a couple of dollars out of my pocket. It could have been a lot worse, that's for sure!

I did eventually get to the 6th Floor Museum, alone. Formerly the Texas Book Depository, famous for being the sight where Lee Harvey Oswald "supposedly" shot down President John F Kennedy in 1963 from the aforementioned 6th floor. Its a totally unispiring building from the outside, indeed the whole area surrounding it, including the infamous grassy knoll is just a sight where something happened once upon a time. Tourists mill around the place and their presence is the only thing to really tell you there is anything special about the place.




The museum is fairly well done but its one of those you need to be in the mood for reading to get the most out of it. Fortunately I was in one such mood although I can imagine the whole thing being a tad dull if you aren't! Of course its worth the entry fee alone to have a peak out of the window from which those famous shots were fired.


Its strange to think that there is much build up to Dallas and the JFK stuff but when you're actually here it somehow seems to drift into the background as if no one is quite sure what to do with it. There's certainly a few museums dedicated to the events and the conspiracies attached but I felt like the 6th Floor Museum had all but covered that for me and for anyone other than a hardened conspiracy nut.

In reality this is just about as touristy as Dallas seems to get. It comes across as a City that isn't quite used to the tourists and with its infamous shopping malls seems to have its financial gains covered elsewhere. Its a City not short of impressive structures and buildings but many of the attractions seem sparse and spread out. I allowed my feet to do the wondering for a few hours, no real aim in mind other than to just explore the City. Its also a City that seems to love its fountains!





I have to admit to being disappointed with Downtown Dallas. It has some impressive buildings but its Skyline falls flat when compared to New York or even Chicago and there feels like there's even less to draw you here than Downtown St Louis!

The feeling that this place wasn't really for me dawned on me quickly. I knew the evenings would be hard. The last train back out of here to South Irving was at 9.30pm, making staying Downtown for an evenings entertainment all but impossible. I knew that once I returned though there was even less to do back at the hostel. If I hadn't had a flight out of Dallas Fort Worth in a few days time I would have taken off somewhere else already. As it is, I would have to stick out a few days, have a few beers Downtown before it was time to go home and just catch an early night or two. Probably time to catch up on some sleep and some washing anyway!

Being Taken For A Ride

Question. You meet a man at a train station who says he works where you are headed. You have no reason not to believe him. You don't look out of place, you're not clearly a tourist and many other people have been just as helpful so far. Do you a) believe him, and chat away or b) Ignore him and maybe waste an opportunity.

I chose option 'a' - I'll admit now that this wasn't the brightest move but given the circumstances I'd probably do the same thing again. Allow me to explain...

From where the hostel was located I needed to catch a DART train to the downtown area. This was about a 25 minute journey with the station just a 10 minute walk from my accommodation. As I was waiting for my train I was approached by a guy who wanted to know a little about what I was upto. This isn't unusual, I've been approached like this before and all to mutual benefit. I explained that I was headed into Dallas to see the Sixth Floor Museum. "Excellent, that's where I work" came his response. That's got to be good right? He certainly had the information about the place.

On the train now, I began to get his "hard luck story". Apparently he'd been in New Orleans and upon returning had been stabbed. Proceeding, of course, to show me the lovely stab wound. I can think of more pleasant things to see at any time of the day let alone first thing in the morning!

He spoke on and it was quickly becoming apparent that he didn't work at the 6th floor museum at all. Instead he did guided tours of the museum and around the JFK sites. Even that didn't seem quite right. He had began talking about it as if it was an official guided tour. I had the feeling it was anything but that. I was getting an uneasy feeling as we pulled into the final stop where Downtown Dallas awaited.

Here came the crunch. What I should have seen coming from the very beginning. I had been taken for a ride in more ways than one! "So you want a guided tour then?" I really didn't. "No thanks, I'm fine on my own". Which lead naturally to the pay off line "So can you spare me a few dollars?" Bingo. There's the money question. Rightly or wrongly I did give him a couple of bucks. Naturally having done that he wanted more. he wasn't getting any more that was certain! "Right I'm off to the stations". Wait....So not only did he not work at the museum, he wasn't doing any kind of guided tour and was now apparently off to New Orleans. Right. Its OK, I believe you. I mean, what possible reason do I have to doubt him?

Just Dont Ask!

I'm sure many of us have asked a pretty dumbass question or 2 in our lifetimes. I know I have. One of my all time favourite dumbass questions was one I asked upon arriving in Munich last year as part of a month backpacking around Europe. I was around two thirds of the way through my trip and had got into a bit of a routine. I wanted to make the most of my time so would often dump my stuff and just head out straight away as was the case this time round. Having dropped my bags in my dorm room I headed out, seeing the lass at the reception I thought to ask her "So where's good to go out?". In itself perhaps not a dumb question. Her rather startled look upon hearing the question should have given the game away. "Umm...I hear there's a BEER FESTIVAL in town". It dawned on me sharpish and for a brief moment I wanted to be swallowed up by the floor. I found myself at the entrance of Oktoberfest about 30 minutes later.

Now here I was again. Silly question poised and at the ready, looking for the perfect moment to fire it off. Now, here in Dallas I was sensing that moment might be about to arrive.

I'd flown in from New Orleans that morning on a rather small aircraft where every turn or jolt sinks through your stomach as if questioning what the hell you're doing up in the air like this and had located my new hostel after navigating the Dallas bus network. Budget accommodation options are far from plentiful in this City. Indeed, I was in the only hostel located in Dallas. The true location of this place is about 30 minutes outside of the downtown area by way of the DART (Dallas Area Rapid Transit) with the hostel located in a suburb called South Irving.

I'd already met a couple of people that had stayed here in Dallas and had both in fact stayed right here at the hostel I was now inhabiting. It had received high praise from both concerned parties and it was clear to see why they'd said it had a nice family atmosphere - As it actually WAS the owners home - Daughter and all.


It certainly had a homely feel to it and the owner was as nice as they get and I was made to feel very much at home. The place was small though and sparsely populated even if it was the only hostel in town. The few that did roam its halls were a mixture of pure strangeness. There was the older woman, who if roommates are to be believed was amongst the loudest snorers the world had ever seen, there was a guy who whilst quite friendly undoubtedly had something quite unsettling about him, there was a guy who never spoke and was leaving the morning after I got there and 2 Aussie girls, who were really the only normal ones around and seemed quite unsettled by everyone else. I got chatting to one of them who was spending her 2nd night on the sofa not being able to endure the aforementioned snoring any longer. It was certainly a surreal household.

It was on trying to escape this scene that I loaded my stupid question rifle ready for firing. My normal escape route out of a situation like this is to make a move to a bar. I can have a relaxing pint or 2 and hopefully get chatting to some locals or whoever is around. Its my little escapism from a deathly hostel and an oft used refuge. I hadn't seen anywhere nearby on my way into the place so figured I'd just ask where the nearest bar was. I mean, having seen the local in Boston things couldn't get any worse than that. My Stupid Question Rifle was now fully loaded and my hand was on the trigger...."Sorry, could you just tell me where the nearest bar is?" - Pow - The short had been fired. A moment or twos silence followed. An embarrassed look, an uneasy stare. "Sorry, no bars around here" came the reply. Before I had a chance to let that sink in our Hostel owner continued "Irving's a Dry County".

Oh!
Dear!
God!