Stereotypes can really lead you astray. Take Texas, for example. You may think the entire state is flat, hot and dusty. Then you haven't seen the Texas Hill Country. This lovely corridor covering some one hundred miles west of Austin and San Antonio is laced with limestone bluffs, streams and valleys that feel a lot like the Ozark lands of Missouri.
As you navigate through its woods and wildflowers, you're also likely to find plenty of sausage and sauerkraut, dumplings, and other ethnic German foods that might seem decidedly out of place in the center of the Lone Star State. But they're really not - emigrants from Germany began settling these hills as far back as the 1830's.
Texas was still Mexican territory then--a raw, untapped land, which caught the eye of northern Europeans, particularly those looking to leave political and religious upheavals behind. Common folks mostly, they often arrived in groups, more than ready to form new communities here. Interestingly enough, while other whites skirmished with Comanches, these hardy newcomers managed to make treaties that both sides honored.
Over the years, as many as seven thousand Germans made the move, branching out into various valleys, along lines that reflected their differing religious backgrounds - Catholics and Lutherans into one, Methodists another, agnostics and free-thinkers yet another. Two larger towns eventually emerged. And both still bear more than a few traces of their German ancestry today - Fredericksburg and New Braunfels.
For architecture and charm, Fredericksburg with its galleries and cafes neatly lining the town's main street is hard to beat. There are plenty of spas and B&B's, a growing wine industry, and many well-preserved examples of the solid German craftsmanship that served these people so well. Items both to look at and to buy, if you're so inclined.
Meanwhile, New Braunfels, on the Guadalupe River, has emerged as the float trip capital of Texas. It boasts, among other attractions, the log cabin fortress built by Prince Carl of Solms-Braunfels, the German nobleman who helped spur the area's initial emigration wave.
Also, tucked within the city limits is what's left of the village of Gruene, where cotton was grown throughout the 1800's. The Gristmill Restaurant is part of a fascinating complex along the river that also includes Gruene Hall, the oldest continually operating dance hall in Texas. True, the repertoire there leans towards country, not German music. But here's a great cross-cultural fact. It was in these parts that the accordion, the European engine that runs the polka, met up with musicians from Mexico-thus birthing the rambunctious Tejano sound that still incorporates it today.
For more on the German heritage of Texas, visit www.texancultures.utsa.edu