Perry F.
Yelp
Austin's South Congress Avenue was developed just for me. Who am I? I am a slightly-stoned, unthreatening millennial. I have a minor-league eye for design, and some disposable income. When I settle in for a glass of natural wine somewhere, many say the neighborhood is done for. They are probably correct.
Whenever I'm in town, I stay at Hotel San Jose. To check in is to venture further down the rabbit hole. I move away from the commercialized stretch of road, humming with neon, and into a plush oasis of well-decorated hospitality.
The air in the lobby is soft, perfumed, and perfectly climate controlled against the swampy 93 degrees outside. I browse the gift shop's potted succulents, clean ceramics, soaps, and creams. I am shown to my room, which is spacious, chic, and just as fragrant. The floors are sleek concrete, and the bed is comfortable.
Outside, above the communal area, birds sing in the leafy verandas. Fans churn over tropical wood tables, bamboo sways, and an aquamarine plunge pool ripples enchantingly. It is all like the garden of a dreamy villa. Come evening, the patio fills. Guests and locals settle in with frozen drinks, beer, and wine as the sky quiets into evening. There is happy, dimly lit chatter.
I do not feel like I'm in Texas. The scene has the aura of an equatorial, Costa Rican surf retreat, or a colonial enclave in the Bali highlands. As stoned and salaried millennial, I have gone on these vacations too. For better or worse, it all feels familiar.
Hotel San Jose paved the way for the gentrification of South Congress. Perhaps Liz Lambert has recognized this, pivoted her first hotel away from the mess of the road, and doubled down on creating a real haven. Perhaps not. Hotel San Jose is an escape within an escape nonetheless. It is not for everyone, but it is perfect for me.