May 1 - 7, 2011 - Austin, TX
writer's note: this is not the usual adventure I write about here. but hey, I can have an urban adventure just like everybody else.
The sky was deep blue, spotted with cumulus clouds that shaded the distant farms of Hill Country when we landed. Steph and I adjusted our sunglasses as we waited in the pleasant Austin heat for Colin and Sarah to pick us up. Their SUV pulled up and Colin exited, giving us energetic hugs and his characteristic, enthusiastic "heeeeeey!" He was wearing Ray-Ban sunglasses, a short sleeve button up and black cut-off jean shorts that he'd owned as long as I could remember. I'd known Colin since I was in high school. He played trumpet in the The Flamingos with my sister's then-boyfriend and, upon meeting me, quickly took me into his group of wonderful friends. It is hard not to like Colin upon meeting him, and the folks he surrounds himself with are, and have always been, wonderful, kind and patient with me throughout the years. Colin's mantra of "stay positive" has had a profound effect on me and I strive to be "posi" as much as I can. We hopped in the car and were greeted by Sarah -- a lovely gal who's ever smart, witty, and easy to be around, no matter what the occasion -- and their new dog, Mandy, a brown and white creature who fades between fits of energy and slightly sullen shyness. Driving out of the quiet airport, I spotted a cluster of longhorn cattle grazing under the shade of a live oak alongside the on-ramp. "Welcome to Texas," I thought.
Steph and I were enjoying our now-annual vacation.
The previous two years had taken us to
Arizona. This year, however, we were thinking about our post-Boston future (I am doubtful it involves moving to Arizona). Steph is a big fan of urban areas and I, well you might guess where I prefer to spend my time. Austin seemed like a good in-between: you can bike or drive to many beautiful natural areas and be home in time to meet up with friends on 6th Street. Everybody wins. Furthermore, we know a fair number of friends in Austin, so we wouldn't be stranded in a strange land, expected to find our own friends amidst strangers -- new people are terrible.
(Side note: when I tell Texans about my love of
King of the Hill, they often tell me to move to Austin. So there's that.)
After a quick tour of 6th Street, where we stopped in a bar called the Jackalope and met a bartender from Boston, we arrived at Colin and Sarah's house, hidden behind tall hedgerows about a block from the Texas State Cemetery. The air smelt of fresh, hot asphalt, as there was ongoing road construction in front of their place. We'd picked up some Lone Star Beer (about the only thing other than water I'd drink on the trip) as well as queso and Texas-shaped tortilla chips (one can literally find anything desired in the shape of Texas: waffle irons, clocks, tomb stones...) and spent most of the afternoon hanging out in the backyard. Texas was experiencing one of the worst droughts in its history at the time, and the dried, brittle grass showed it. We threw toys for the excitable Mandy to chase while taking occasional breaks from the sun beneath the pecan tree that draped over their back yard, quenching our thirst with cold Lone Star.
As the sun set and the night cooled down, the third roommate, a wonderful young woman named Danielle, joined us on the front porch before we all ventured off to a vegan potluck/hootenanny up the street. It was a pleasant walk; the night was calm and warm. Walking up a steep hill, we came to a small one-story house with a large prickly pear cactus and century plant flanking the entrance way, giving it a very southwestern vibe. Once inside, I could have sworn I was in Allston again. The house was filled with a scrambled assortment of used furniture, nicknacks, kitsch art, show fliers and band posters. Attendees -- sporting angular-cut hairdos, plaid shirts and band patch-covered cutoff jeans -- wandered around with plates of faux-cheese covered nachos, veggie hot dogs, vegan chili and other treats while listening to acoustic folk punk songs. It was like I never left home.
At some point during the night -- a few more Lone Stars in -- I received a text message from a friend from home, Mike, informing me that Osama Bin Laden had been killed. Rudely, I shouted "Holy shit!" during someone's heart-filled song and decided it might be time to head out. When we arrived back at the house, we turned on the radio and listened to Obama's speech detailing the raid in Pakistan. Outside, one could make out the cheers emanating from UT Austin. It all felt very far away. While reporters frantically tried to gush out every detail they could, I slumped over and fell into a deep sleep.
* * * *
We woke the next day to find the sky grayed by clouds and a fine mist. It was a bit chilled outside as Steph and I made our way to the center of the Capitol. Mohawk'ed punks, dingy hippies and bearded hipsters shared the same streets with leather-clad bikers and good ol' Texan cowboys, and everyone shared the space, equally, without obvious judgement. It was strange to see people walk past one another, without sneering, coming to unfounded conclusions. Odd, I thought.
We walked past empty bars on 6th and arrived at Congress Street. To the left was the Colorado River (no, not
that Colorado River) and Ladybird Lake. To the right was the capitol building, a grand, adobe-brown structure adorned with statues of Lady Liberty and heroes of the Civil War (or should I say the War Between the States?). Seeing monuments of Confederate soldiers was certainly a first for me, and we took our time investigating the plaques whilst a memorial for police officers killed in the line of duty carried on behind us.
Leaving the capitol building, we crossed over the Congress Street Bridge. Beneath us, over one million bats chattered lightly and the scent of guano percolated up to the street level. I'd never smelt bat guano before, but instantly knew what the aroma was. As we arrived at the other side, the sun began to peer out through the clouds and the day slowly warmed. We window shopped, laughed at a "Gun Store" sign that still hung above the American Apparel store, and wound up venturing in to Uncommon Objects, a boutique full of all the cool things people look for while visiting thrift stores. It is my favorite store on the planet. We must have spent over two hours in the place, admiring all of the unique items they had for sale, wishing we could purchase every one of them (though Steph seemed apprehensive about my purposed acquisition of a lamp made out of a cow leg with a shade build from thin leather adorned with classic western scenes). We left the shop and made our way back to the house, stopping by Tears of Joy, a hot sauce store where our eyes cringed as the chefs brewed homemade habenero pepper sauce. To be fair, the store owner was crying too.
We relaxed on the front porch for a few hours before heading to a bar called the Grackle with Colin, Sarah, Danielle and their friend Eric. The evening humidity was rising and we cooled down with a beverage on the Grackle's caged-in porch (I think it's supposed to resemble a bird cage?). After a drink, we walked out to one of the food trucks in the parking lot -- a Mexican establishment -- where I ordered a lengua burrito, now brave from beer. The truck's employee handed us a numbered card and told us to place it on our table. We followed his orders and headed back to our spot in the bar. Within a few minutes, a man came to our table carrying out food. What great service! And what delicious cow tongue! We carried on with our Mexican food and beverages for some time, discussing events we'd undertake during our trip, talking about Eric's exceptional art work -- which included a crucifix made of phalluses as well as the notorious "Party Cat" -- and enjoying the warm, humid air, which was welcome after the unseasonably chilled day. We paid our tab (well someone did at least) and made our way back to the house, where Mandy waited, ready to play.
* * * *
In the morning, Colin and Sarah took us to a local Mexican food stand, called El Chilito, for some breakfast tacos. Huevos rancheros in a puffy taco shell? Count me in. While we waited for the feast to be prepared, Colin and I enjoyed
a ride on a mustache-shaped seesaw that had been attached to the restaurant's sign, laughing like lunatics all the while. After our decadent breakfast, we hopped in the car and made our way to UT Austin while listening to Cut Copy on endless repeat (they had just seen the group a few weeks prior at South by Southwest and listened to this album almost exclusively during out visit). We passed by the university's infamous bell tower and sat next to a small pond that was brimming with algae-covered sliders and other turtles.
After Colin went to his UT lab -- he's some sort of scientist -- Sarah, Steph and I went to the Austin Botanical Gardens. Flowers were in bloom and the park smelt of fresh spring and plant sex. Small anoles darted in front of us and through palm fronds that lined the trail. Small fish sulked under lily pads, hiding from a hunting heron. Streams of sun peered down between leaves of pecan trees, willows and live oak as we passed by historic buildings and small springs. While we stood in front of a waterfall and let the mist cool our bodies on this hot day, a group of young kids on a field trip walked by. One of them shouted "hey hipsters!" as he passed and stuck his tongue out. "What hipsters?" I pondered, looking around to see if there was anyone else nearby. There was not.
Defeated by the third grader's taunt -- he was some bully, I tell you what -- we grabbed Colin and headed back to the house, where we built a small fire in the backyard and cooked hot dogs, applying sauerkraut, Russian dressing and Swiss cheese for effect. With the sun waning in the sky, Colin and Sarah told us they had a surprise and took us on a short walk to the Congress Street Bridge. Dusk was setting in and there was a large group of people on the bridge facing east. Below, eager tourists riding river boats circled in the water, illuminated by the occasional camera flash. I'm sure those photos came out great. With a bit of light left in the sky, fluttering black specks began to emerge from the hollows beneath the bridge: bats. Within moments, the small stream of bats turned into a black flood, whipping and spinning, flying into the night sky, spreading out as far as could be seen to decimate the bugs of Hill Country. Darkness grew, and the boats below turned on flood lights, pointing them up into the sky to spot the flying mammals, like search lights spotting German bombers over Britain during World War II. We watched as long as we could; when the sun finally set and our eyes could no longer discern the river of bats, we could still hear the flutter of their legion of wings.
* * * *
Everyone at the house was busy on our fourth day, so Steph and I schemed to take out a couple bikes and explore the city. The temperature would reach nearly 100°, so our game was to find a place to swim. Colin and Sarah lined up their collection of bikes for Steph, but she was too short to fit on any of them. There was only one other option: the tandem bike. We took the bike out of the shed and took a few moments to tune it up. It was a classic model, sturdy and heavy. The problem was that Steph, even on a normal bike, is not much of a cyclist; her upbringing in Arizona had not prepared her for such activities. And I had only been on a tandem bike once, where the pilot of the bike had jumped off, leaving me to slowly crash into a telephone pole, as I was unable to stop the behemoth.
To say it was a rocky start would be polite. After about an hour of riding around the quiet neighborhood, undertaking a few spills but no scrapes -- which I'm sure would have killed the whole endeavor -- we took the vessel out onto the busy streets. Sadly, we did not manage to get any photographic proof of us on the tandem bike; I'm sure it would have made a lovely Christmas card. It was stressful at the beginning: cars whizzed by us uncaring, Steph had trouble keeping balance, and we were undergoing some slight communication issues. Luckily, after a few blocks of riding, we found a bike lane that was separated from the road. It was safe and took the stress level way down. Gliding across wood bike bridges, we spotted some of the biggest sliders I'd ever seen, basking on rocks in the gully below. Passing over Lady Bird Lake, we admired the azure water below, translucent in the afternoon sun with visible plants and fish kissing the surface. Kayaks glided over it, appearing to hover over the lake bottom.
After crossing, we passed through a cool glade of palo verde, willow, mesquite and live oak, with yucca in the underbrush. The area soon opened up and we came to a building: the entrance to Barton Springs. We paid our cheap entrance fee and walked down to the pool. Barton Springs is one of many natural springs that occur around this part of Texas. No matter what time of year it is, the water's temperature is always in the high 60s. When the temperatures reach 110° in August? The water's still 68°. 45° in February? 68° The water is crystal clear, giving one the ability to see straight to the bottom. It is a very strange place, unlike anywhere I've ever been. The spring is surrounded by a rock reef, giving it a natural appeal. However, circling the spring is a concrete walkway and even a diving board at one end, making it feel like a man-made pool. At the far end is a dam, where the water exits the pool and pours over a rocky spring on its way to the Colorado; many people take their dogs to swim at this section (which is also free) while they smoke pot and drink on the shore. Barton Springs is instantly appealing, and I was eager to jump right in. We placed our blankets and supplies on the knoll that overlooks the pool and jumped in. The water was quite cold, starkly contrasting with the hot air above. I jumped right out, chattering. We repeated this routine, jumping in only to hop out quickly, for much of the afternoon. Eventually, I acclimated to the water and could not be bothered to leave.
Now well pruned, I climbed out to relax in the sun. Steph and I were chatting and I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. It was one of those moments where your brain knows something you are seeing is off, but you haven't figured out what it is (I am finely tuned to this feeling, after years of "spot the difference" games in Highlights for Kids). Then I saw that there was a young woman walking around topless. I pointed it out to Steph and we both stared bewildered. There were children about, by gosh! No one seemed to take any notice of this anomaly. She disappeared into the crowd and we hopped back in the water for a while longer before returning home. Upon our arrival at the house, we told Colin and Sarah about our encounter with the topless woman. They informed us that in the city of Austin, there is no law barring women from walking around public places without a top on. It gets hot in the summer and if men can walk around without shirts, why can't women? Go longhorns.
We changed out of our sweaty clothes and made our way to a fancy hotel bar in downtown Austin called the Driskill. It is a wondrous Romanesque-style building, built in the 1880s, that acted as a fine place to stay for those heading westward in the 19th and early 20th century. It still holds its olde-tyme appeal, with posh marble colonnades, ornate floors and wall-mounted lamps made out of six shooters and boot spurs. We ordered fancy whiskey drinks and some appetizers. When we walked home, we passed a colony of junkies under a bridge. One lit a crack pipe and exhaled his hit just in time to ask us for spare change. Scenic Austin!
At night, we made our way back to 6th with Colin and watched a $1 midnight matinee at the Alamo Draft House. While watching The Love Butcher (I highly recommend it), the ADH staff ferried out food and beer to the patrons. Every 15 minutes or so, they would come through and take order cards placed on the table in front of you. Soon after, they'd bring out nachos, burgers, fries and beer. It's essentially heaven. It was late when we left, but as we walked on to the street, it was flooded with a horde of drunks that would put a weekend in Allston to shame. It was Wednesday. Everything's bigger in Texas.
* * * *
The end of our trip was closing in, and the days raced by. Sarah took Steph and me to the Austin Zoo, a wonderful establishment that adopts exotic animals from unfit homes and zoos across the state. We saw lions that had been used as junkyard dogs, wolves that didn't make good pets, and tigers that used to live in small concrete enclosures. We learned about how one of the big cats had sprayed a fourth grader the day before -- marking his territory -- as well as how the tigers had adopted a bullfrog that had made its home in their swimming pool. Pets get pets too. The cycle continues.
At night, we enjoyed a delectable meal at the Graj Mahal, a BYOB Indian food truck that operated nearby. We had hoped to spot Eric working there, but we had no such luck. Afterwards, we went to the Double Down Bar, where Danielle was working, and enjoyed a few drinks. Some patrons had brought their dogs in -- one, and old lab, was wearing a t-shirt that read "the contents of this shirt love to party" -- and the canines quarreled in the middle of the floor without anyone taking notice. A few punks sat down next to me and elbowed me continuously throughout the night. At one point, one turned to me and burped in my face. We took that as our cue to leave.
It was after 10 and we headed down to 6th, where the streets were clogged with rowdy drunks -- more than I'd seen in a lifetime. Cops lined the intersections of the street, barring cars from driving across, allowing the entirety of 6th to become a pedestrian walkway. We managed to make our way to a place called Shakespeare's. Inside, we scrambled to one of the establishment's numerous bars and each ordered a mini pitcher of mixed drinks for the cost of $5. Classic pop songs blared over the speakers -- everything from
Sweet Fantasy to the
Space Jam theme song -- while skating videos were projected on the wall. I'd never been in a bar this big and I was becoming disoriented from all the people, so we took our drinks to the roof deck and watched all of the inebriated folk pass by on the street below. We enjoyed another drink before making our way back to the house.
* * * *
The next day found us driving out of the city, through the Hill Country on our way to Hamilton Pool. It was our last full day in Texas and we wanted to get one adventure in. We drove past the gun club where Sarah attended the weekly "Ladies Night." Ladies shoot for free! As we headed west, the area became more sparsely populated. The hills, browned by drought, were dotted with live oak and alligator juniper and extended off out of sight. The sun was bright and the sky was cloudless. No hope of rain.
We pulled off down a dirt road, passing a ranger station adorned with the skulls of longhorn, coyote, deer and other local fauna. The parking lot was in an open field, surrounded by tall grass, prickly pear and the occasional yucca. Down the way, we spotter a road runner dart across the road.
Exiting the car, I followed Colin, Sarah, Steph and Danielle down a windy, shaded path through the woods. The trail meandered down a hill and eventually opened up at a small, sandy beach. Before us, a cool, circular pond rested beneath a large rock awning. Ivory stalactites hung from the roof and large moss-covered boulders lined the far shore. A small stream trickled from above, creating a pitter-patter echo in the cave as the water splashed into the pool. A long time ago, this pool had been an underground aquifer. A few thousand years ago, the roof collapsed and exposed the pool, for the enjoyment of all today. A path circled the spring and we walked around, admiring the unique geological forms, spotting tiny frogs and turtles, and passing a forest ranger who had what appeared to be shin guards on his legs. It took me a few moments to realize that the leg wear is designed to protect the lower legs from venomous snake bites. Venomous snakes: noted.
We swam in the pool for a while, chasing turtles and floating around while admiring the cave. Like Barton Springs, the water here was quite cool. After some time, we made our way further into the park. Entering a cypress grove, we walked along a stream that was about seven-feet wide and 10-feet deep. The water was beautiful and you could see to the bottom clearly. A snapping turtle swam down the river, appearing as though it was flying (how often can you say a snapping turtle is a thing of beauty?). A large fish snuck up on another and swallowed it whole. Turkey vultures sat on a branch and watched us as we passed. Quite the nature walk.
Through the trees, we could see that there was a clearing ahead. The trail stopped abruptly as the land dropped before us, eroded by the now shallow Pedernales River. We slid down the sandy bank, laid our towels on the beach, and ran around in the warm turquoise water. We jumped off a rock monadnock in the center of the river and watched small fish dart around our feet. I went up the stream in an attempt to take some scenic photos. Standing on an island/dried bank in the river, I saw something small dart past my feet. I followed its route and discovered a young cottonmouth poised to strike beneath a log. I backed away slowly, figuring it wise to leave this critter be (it's the young venomous snakes that are more deadly). On my way back to the group, I was walking from rock to rock when I felt something staring at me. Looking ahead, I saw that there was another cottonmouth perched on the rock I was about to jump on. Pausing, I requested that the asp head somewhere else. It obliged me and slithered off the rock, revealing its five-foot body length. Having dodged reptilian trouble twice in such a short time, it seemed prudent to head back to the City, where we would enjoy happy hour margaritas and an endless queso bar.
* * * *
Our last day in Austin, we walked through a street fair, where people sold handmade crafts, fair food and cheap beer along the street (did I mention you can drink in public down there?). We were on our way to a cluster of food trucks at the other end of Congress Street. My mother (hi mom!) had told us we should go to a place called the Mighty Cone, and we obliged her, much to our benefit. Their signature item -- of their namesake -- is a tortilla served in a paper cone. At the bottom is homemade coleslaw topped with your choice of fried chicken, fried shrimp, fried avocado (seriously, fried avocado) or any combination of two, all topped with a chipotle mayo. If you're ever in Austin, dear reader, I highly recommend stopping by this food cart.When I heard my name called, I eagerly jumped up and walked at my normal Yankee pace to the pick-up window. The owner of the cart took my haste with some surprise. "Slow down, pardner," she said, "It ain't goin' anywhere." But I was going somewhere, sadly: home. And I had to get my mighty cone NOW.
We were cutting it close to our boarding time, so Colin rushed us to the airport. We boarded our plane by the skin of our teeth and flew over the dried fields of East Texas, crossing the flooded plains of the South, eventually landing at Logan.
Leaving Texas, I was anticipating some feeling of ecstasy, overcome with all the Lone Star state had to offer. But I wasn't, and this lack of emotion caught me off guard. More than anything I felt rested, comfortable. Certainly it was not that I didn't enjoy myself (else wise I wouldn't have spent all this time writing about it). What was it then? It took me some weeks to put it all together, and eventually I filtered it down. Austin offered something that I hadn't known, a place I could feel comfortable, a place where folks didn't unjustly label one another, where you had to constantly struggle against the rip tide of "cool." It was a city where I could easily find excitement, but also where I could just sit on the porch and think; a place I could rest. It felt like a town I could wind up in and feel just fine. Like the song says, "anywhere I'm gonna lay my head, boys, I will call my home."
Some day, maybe.
Photos: Police Memorial at the Texas Capitol Building; UT Austin Bell Tower; Austin skyline at sunset; Barton Springs; Driskill Hotel lobby; Hamilton Pool (photo credit: Steph); Path through cypress grove along stream; Pedernales River; Our order from Mighty Cone.
Exiting the car, I followed Colin, Sarah, Steph and Danielle down a windy, shaded path through the woods. The trail meandered down a hill and eventually opened up at a small, sandy beach. Before us, a cool, circular pond rested beneath a large rock awning. Ivory stalactites hung from the roof and large moss-covered boulders lined the far shore. A small stream trickled from above, creating a pitter-patter echo in the cave as the water splashed into the pool. A long time ago, this pool had been an underground aquifer. A few thousand years ago, the roof collapsed and exposed the pool, for the enjoyment of all today. A path circled the spring and we walked around, admiring the unique geological forms, spotting tiny frogs and turtles, and passing a forest ranger who had what appeared to be shin guards on his legs. It took me a few moments to realize that the leg wear is designed to protect the lower legs from venomous snake bites. Venomous snakes: noted.
