I guess an update is in order.
On Saturday Marcus came and picked me up from the hotel. It was a fairly quick drive from there to his house, and by fairly quick I mean about 20 minutes. His house is situated in a very suburban area, a picture of what the suburbs is – nice lawns, nice houses, kids playing with dogs, the requisite signs informing you of a police presence. You know, the suburbs.
But for a place that is so totally the suburbs, amenities are close and many. Driving to the house passes a smorgasbord of food places, hardware stores, supermarkets, smaller stores, banks, and everything else. There is literally nothing you could want for. And if you did, I doubt you'd have to go much further to find it.
Though they've left not too long ago, Marcus' brother, Hans, and his niece, were finishing their two week stay in Houston. They were staying with him so I had an airbed for one night. Honestly, I would've slept in the pool if it meant that I could stay somewhere.
Marcus and Hans look like Willem. They sound the same. They are, and I would be convinced of this if I had not seen them so frequently together at once, the same person. It's proof of genetics in action.
Literally within an hour of dumping my stuff in a temporary room – if that – we were on our way to the pub for eats and drinks. Marcus is on first name basis with the owner and staff of a pub hardly 5 minutes drive from his house. It's a very, very, very nice establishment and – so I have been told and can readily believe – the winner of the best pint of Guinness in the state of Texas. The owner is Irish. It makes sense.
So, there we are, sat at the bar, drinking, talking, joking and the conversation turns to food. 'Pub nachos,' I am told 'are brilliant'. Obviously, I must order those. The full order is ordered for me.
It was a mountain of nachos, cheese, beef, jalapeños, tomatoes and whatever else they had in the kitchen. I barely made a dent in it, and I am ashamed of that. Apparently it was a respectable try though. It was, however, soooooo fucking good.
My defeat over, and another pint of Guinness imbibed, the brothers Sprenkel decided to show me Spec's, a liquor store. It was the size of a small supermarket – a Somerfield type affair. And it was full of booze. And cheap booze at that. Mecca.
There's a bigger one, apparently. One the size of city block. I MUST GO!
Back home (that's odd to say) the three of them head into the pool to cool off. They say that a pool is advised in Texas. It's not considered a luxury; it's a necessity. The heat and the humidity is so constant, so inescapable that jumping into a body of cool water is the only respite outside. I don't like swimming, but dammit, I like being cool. I spent about half an hour, maybe 45 minutes in there, chatting with Marcus.
Oh, but before that, Hans made frozen Magaritas. Strong, tasty, cold, fucking lush. Just what the doctor ordered.
Anyway, later on I have my first proper steak. It was heaven. Medium rare, bleeding all over the show, nicely cooked chips, and a few glasses of red wine. Nice conversation to boot.
The rest of the evening was spent in front of the TV watching the Life of Brian and a few shows. I turned in around 9ish, hot, somewhat drunk and ready to crash.
Sunday morning (this morning) I woke around 8:30. By the time I checked my email, got dressed, and headed downstairs, Hans and his daughter were in the pool. A cup of coffee later and I was awake.
Denny's is essentially an all-day breakfast restaurant. Obviously it does more than breakfast, but I think that's their selling point. There are no rules to American breakfasts. Have whatever the fuck you want, any way you fucking want it, so long as the portion is the size of a small city. NI mention this because we went there for breakfast.
The All-American Grandslam is not too alien a breakfast. Two sausages (tiny and thin), bacon rashers (tiny and thin, crispy and flavourless), slices of toast (sweet and sugary bread is cheap here or else no one would eat it), eggs (scrambled, but in a congealed, thick mound – nicer than they look) and a hashbrown shredded across the plate (not in one parcel as it should be, but still nice to eat). I can't see myself eating there too many times, but I think it would be a decent substitute to a greasy fry-up. Not that I eat breakfast anyway.
Following Denny's, we headed to a supermarket type thing. That's hardly an accurate description. It was more like a warehouse with aisles and displays of food and drink and other wares. It specialises in food from around the world, but with a bent towards Mediterranean foods. I think there's a tendency to eschew aesthetics and focus on function and purpose. And why not? It works, it's probably cheaper to maintain and you probably get more shit on the shelves.
About 20 minutes, half an hour after we came back, Marcus offered to take me to Best Buy and sort out a laptop. It was about a 10 minute drive from the house and within 5 minutes I had found a cheap and cheerful machine. $350ish including taxes gets you 2GB of ram, 250GB HDD, a 15.6'' screen and a nice processor with Windows 7 Home included. That's £220. That's fucking ridiculous. I had set out to buy a laptop and then sell it when I leave. Now, I may just keep it since it was such a good buy.
Of course, the downside was having the sales guy push crap I don't need on me, and no matter how many times I said no he would keep trying. He shut up eventually, but forgot to ring up the bag. I paid for that with cash.
After uninstalling all the schlock on the machine, the cry went round of 'pub', so we went to the pub again. A few bevvies and we came back – about an hour in the pub. Not long after than and Hans and his daughter had packed and were preparing to go. So, they went.
Which is where we are now. I've been in the pool, had a quick shower and am awaiting the laptop to finish updating. BBC America is playing Come Dine With Me and all is good.
So, uh, yeah.
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