1) Interstates come with frontage roads. Where in most other states there are cloverleafs and other on/off ramps, in Texas the frontage roads run right along the interstate and then you just pop on and off whenever you feel like it. I think in a lot of places you could use the frontage road to get where you are going without ever getting on the interstate (though, it would be slower, since the frontage roads also come with stoplights).

2) There are a lot more Spanish channels and radio stations. In Indiana, I think there is one Spanish radio station and one TV channel. In Texas, there’s at least three stations and two channels (on just the antenna). I think this is awesome — more opportunities to practice listening to and understanding Spanish!

3) Texans love trucks! Trucks, trucks, everywhere! The bigger, the better. I saw someone get pulled over by a cop in a giant SUV!

4) Cold weather does not compute. We had a few “cold” days in Houston (lows in the 20s) and the news channels schooled us in how to handle it (i.e. cover your plants and outdoor water pipes, bundle up, take extra time to get to work, etc.) Similarly, my sister once had to explain to a Houstonian workmate what black ice is.

In Houston, Isabel enjoyed the nearby dog park. It came with a small and large dog run, as well as a giant shelter, since there weren’t that many trees in the park:

A large pond occupied one corner of the park, which I bet is quite nice on a hot summer day in Houston:

(The orange fencing was up for a few days to allow new grass growth.)

I’d also like to note that this dog park is free, as well as all of the other dog parks we’ve visited thus far in our trip. (two in Pittsburgh, two in Philly, one near Savannah [Tybee Island], one in Hilton Head and one in Houston) Is that just luck? Why are the dog parks in Indianapolis so expensive? Is it because there aren’t that many and there are more people/dogs than there is space to accommodate them? I’m not sure, but I’d kind of like to get to the bottom of it when I get back to Indy.

One last Isabel approved: Hans, my sister’s dachsund. A fiery, vocal German who insisted on keeping an eye on Isabel nearly the whole time.