... Gabriel Morrisered that there was a youth hostel right in town, with its own hot
springs.
I walked out to the hostel at the edge of town, right along the Rio
Grande (which wasn’t looking very grand, but rather puny in mid-
November) and paid for an affordable bed in their dormitory for the
night. I spent the rest of the day sitting in the springs, reading, and
writing in my journal on the deck overlooking the river.
I ended up spending five more relaxing days there, soaking in the
springs, hanging out with the other travelers, writing in my journal,
and doing plenty of contemplation—of both the past and the future.
By the time I left the hostel, I felt ready to tackle whatever unknown
lay before me. I had a sense that, whatever it was, it was likely to be
pretty challenging. I was definitely right about that.
I caught another Greyhound from T or C to El Paso, Texas, and
then from El Paso to San Antonio, staring out the window through
the long 10-hour trip, mesmerized by the constant flow of people and
places. I called Amy when we arrived in San Antonio. She said she
would pick me up in an hour at the Greyhound station in Austin.