Pastel-painted condos in coastal towns make for some solace when the winter sky is overcast and the weather is dreary. Galveston is no exception.
You can rent a beach house, condo, or hotel room for your stay. Some are swanky and grand, like this one.
But I imagine the bedspread is still unwashed, and the sheets are covered with pubic hair and glitter, as I have found in even the most expensive of hotels. Which is why I HATE hotels. And motels? Eek. Motels are simply something you accrue in Monopoly so that you can later buy hotels. Although I guess if you are a criminal on the lam, then motels are just your style. Or perhaps this leaning tower of Victorian latticework.
Galveston is home to the Pleasure Pier, which has never been pleasurable for us, as it is only open on weekends, and we cannot afford weekend rates anywhere but our own home. Nonetheless, it is a colorful sight against the bleak backdrop of a sunless sky. (Honestly, is this what London feels like? Seattle? Lack of sunlight is a serious buzzkill.)
It is a quirky city, decorated in green, gold, and purple in anticipation of Mardi Gras.
So quirky that the dentist is housed adjacent to the Ben & Jerry’s. Take note: Ron Burgundy’s Scotchy Scotch was there.
So quirky that this home showcased a plant-haired tiki idol, lording over all of Crystal Beach.
And when the sun peeked out from behind the clouds for all of eleven minutes…
…it made for a lovely little shot of Americana.