Keep Austin Weird

I hope you’re sitting comfortably…

Post-shower I felt refreshed and invigorated and took the short walk to the bus stop to catch the bus downtown. It was seriously warm and a little more humid than I expected and I was missing my sunglasses already. Luckily I had remembered my sun block, which sprays like a deodorant. Much better than those silly spurty ones we have in the UK.

I was hungry after the long journey so I made my way to Hut’s Hamburgers which was recommended in the Lonely Planet. I tend not to use guides for food too often as there are so many other good places which aren’t as busy without the recommendation, but they do buffalo. I hadn’t had a buffalo burger since I was at the Trafford Centre with Rob and Laura and I felt it was high time I had another. The place was rammed full even before midday, and I had to wait for around ten minutes just to get a seat at the bar. This gave me time to take in the atmosphere and appreciate the walls. They are decorated with Texas memorabilia as well as vast numbers of awards for best burger over the past fifteen years or so, and plenty of signed flyers from celebrities such as Jack Black.

After enjoying, and I mean enjoying, my burger, I made my way back to an area I’d spotted on my way from the main street. There’s a fountain surrounded by trees and benches and I soon discovered I’d been right to think it would be a very nice place to spend some time when I’d first walked past. Sure enough, there were people relaxing, and I found an empty bench and enjoyed the weather. This was my view as my burger digested:

Not bad, if you ask me.

I had just gotten to deciding where to go next when I received a text from Dan, who I’d messaged on the bus the night before and who was, quite by chance, also in Austin. We agreed to meet up at the Capitol Building and hit some shops as I needed a new pair of sunglasses and he a hat and some flipflops. I still harboured hope of finding a ridiculous bargain on a pair of cowboy boots, but I was admittedly fairly realistic about my chances. Dan has had quite the experience with couchsurfing; this time he was staying in a Vegetarian co-op, clothing optional. Way to do your research, dude!

I had no success with sunglasses or boots, but Dan managed to find a hat and some sandals, and I was tempted into buying a ring. Some of the shops have inventories the borrowers would be proud of, and S. Congress is as much an experience as it is a place to go to actually do shopping. I was fairly disgusted to see a pair of ‘vintage’* boots priced at $225.

*pre-owned, scuffed, with soles which had almost worn through.

Dan had to make it back in time for a meal out so we parted ways with the vague idea that we might meet up later on in the evening.

I didn’t expect to see architecture like this:

Everything’s bigger in Texas:

Back at the hostel I discovered a new roommate called Bill who had just arrived. He’s an old guy catching the Greyhound like he used to do in his youth. On his first trip from Philly when he was much younger, he stayed in Eugene, Oregon. Three days after he got home he moved there and has lived there ever since. The heat of the pavement had melted one of the wheels on his suitcase, and as I needed a sleeping bag for my Trek which is getting ever closer, we went to an outdoors store. As a member, Bill was entitled to a 25% off code which had just been e-mailed out, but there was a problem and in the end the cashier let me use his!

While we were walking around Austin, we got onto the topic of smoking and tattoos. While I agreed about smoking being a turn-off, I defended tattoos fairly passionately, and he was a little flummoxed when he asked where mine was and I said I don’t have one. He also discussed his ‘ladder of light’ philosophy, whereby if we do good acts we will ascend towards light and eventually begin the cycle again. It makes at least as much sense as Scientology. You can read that whichever way you want to.

We caught the bus back past the hostel to find a supermarket for some groceries with the intention of heading into town later on, but by the time we’d done with our shopping it was getting late and we were both fairly exhausted. At the bus stop we spoke to some locals who were going to a gig and yet another girl put her number in my phone. I wish it were this easy in England!

When I awoke the next day Bill was gone so I asked Dan if he wanted to go out to Barton Springs, an open air pool. He’d already been a couple of times and loved it so I set off to catch the bus. After an age waiting I started to walk and was, unsurprisingly, passed almost immediately by the bus. Still, I had a pleasant walk in the sun and before long I’d met up with Dan. There’s a distinct smell in the water, which is home to some endangered salamanders and a lot of plants. Almost as much of an attraction are the people who gather on the banks. I witnessed a martial artist who did yoga on the side, acrobats, jugglers, musicians, and tattoos were so prevalent they’d have given Bill nightmares. I, on the other hand, loved it.

There are signs there which make it very clear that food and drink are not allowed inside. As I’d prepared lunch I was a bit put out and took it in anyway, but I didn’t eat it until we went out to get some lunch for Dan. We were surrounded by pigeons which was fairly unpleasant. and it’s very odd that pigeon food is for sale. While we ate Dan contacted Camille, a couchsurfer who had offered to host him for part of his stay. He’d declined as he had a place for the whole stay, but taken her up on her offer to meet up anyway. She told me I remind her or Aragorn, and while I like to think it’s the rugged good looks, regal blood line, and explicit masculinity, I have a feeling maybe she was right when she attributed it to the rings, beard, and leather bracelet.

It was soon time to go home and get ready for a night out, and Camille very kindly gave me a lift. I headed back out before long to meet Dan on Congress Bridge where we witnessed the daily congregation of hundreds of tourists waiting to see the world’s largest urban bat colony set out to find its food for the day. It’s a fairly impressive sight, but most of them didn’t even see it because they were too busy taking photos. I’d left my camera at home and was able to see the swarms collecting above trees further and further down the river like clouds or Crebain from Dunland.

When that spectacle was over we found somewhere to eat and ordered exactly the same food. We probably looked like a gay couple, but as it had barbecue sauce, cheese, and bacon on it, we really couldn’t have cared less. We were soon joined by a friend of Dan’s from uni and his American friend David. Adrian’s on a course in Falmouth and is over here making a documentary about attitudes towards homosexuals in Austin compared to the rest of Texas, and earlier in the day he’d interviewed a couple whose gay son had killed himself, which must have been pretty harrowing stuff to say the least.

Adrian’s one of those guys who can somehow gain the attention of a roomful of women in a matter of moments. By somehow, I mean he’s overly flamboyant and easily mistaken for gay, but it’s still a very impressive sight to witness. Dan was in touch with Camille who was out for a friend’s 21st and we were planning to meet up with them later in the night. We played skeeball in one bar. Don’t get me wrong here, Kevin Smith’s a genius, but there is no way God would be seen dead playing a game where your opponents can repeatedly reset your score on a mere whim.

After more bars, drinks, and mechanical bulls, it was two o’clock and we had to leave. It seems very strange that in such a liberal city there’s a stiflingly early curfew. At this point David and Adrian departed, and Dan and I were collected by Camille and her landlord, a very athletic Chinese American. We went back to theirs for a little while. Or so we thought. After some sake, Johnny poured me some brandy, and kept insisting I drink it, only to exclaim that he was a terrible host and run to get more every time I finished my glass. In the meantime we discussed a myriad of things into the small hours. He, by the way, is a genius, who plays and coaches four way chess, works in ‘money’ for about two hours a day, eats only vegan food and appears roughly 25 even though he is in fact 41. I didn’t believe him until he showed me his ID.

By about five o’clock Dan and I expressed a wish not to outstay our welcome and made to leave. But Camille and Johnny wouldn’t let us. Instead we were driven back to my hostel where we sat by the lake and saw the sunrise. I nipped in to ask a fairly bemused vegetarian hostel worker about ‘this crazy barbecue place’ I’d heard of before they dropped us back at the bridge and left us to our own devices.

We made our way up towards the Capitol Building along the deserted streets, stopping only for photo opportunities and Starbucks, where we harassed the poor cashier and discussed music before she started a discussion about history. If you hadn’t guessed by now, we didn’t go to bed, and I believe it was the first time in my life I’ve paid for accommodation and then not used it. After that we pressed on towards the street which held the mythical barbecue joint, which opens at 11 and closes when they run out of meat.

Before long, we realised that we were probably a little hungover and it was getting very hot. The lack of sleep wasn’t helping, and when we arrived at 9:30 there was already a queue. God clearly agrees with me about the skeeball thing, because he made the bit of the queue we were stood in sheltered from the sun. Having roughly an hour and a half to kill before the place even opened we talked to some other people in the queue who seemed very pleased to hear about our travelling experiences and had done it themselves when they were younger.

When a woman came round asking what everyone was likely to order, it became clear that we were lucky to arrive when we did. The ever-increasing queue forming behind us certainly seemed to agree.

Why do they not just order more meat? The owner wants to make sure the food is of the highest quality and doesn’t want the business to get too big.

Once inside we had a little time to decide for sure what we wanted. I went for brisket and pulled pork, and it was delicious. The problems started when we tried to get up. A combination of full stomachs, hangovers, and predominantly lack of sleep rendered us virtually immobile. At one point I was stroking my face and exclaimed ‘it doesn’t feel like my hands are touching my face’. Bizarre. Sometime around then, Dan received a text from Adrian asking if we were still up for the plans we’d made the night before. Fearing a car journey and a day in the sun, we agreed it would be for the best if we went for a car journey and a day in the sun and migrated outside to the sheltered balcony to wait for them to arrive. After what felt like forever, we became the fourth and fifth people in a very cramped car. I am now fully aware of the true meaning of despair.

After a very painful car journey, we arrived at our destination, and then did this:

That there is a 9mm Glock, and firing it was quite an experience.

We just had to fill in the relevant forms, show our driving licenses and pay. Imagine that in England!

When we’d had our fill of shooting a scary looking paper man in a balaclava, we went back to Adrian and David’s where we caught the end of the women’s World Cup on their gigantic TV. Their housemates were having a shrimp and crawfish boil outside but Dan and I stayed inside and failed miserably at trying to sleep. Eventually we caught cabs to our respective abodes, but I was now far too awake to sleep, so I spoke to a few people in the hostel about buying and selling cars while travelling here, fake money and its uses, and the social taboo of wearing non-matching shoes. A guy was moving to Austin and all of his possessions were crammed into his car so he’d just grabbed the first two shoes he’d seen. On entering the hostel he’d been greeted with cries of derision. It’s remarkable how offended some people can get by something which is really very harmless. Following that, I enjoyed the sunset over the lake.

Better photos when I’ve had a proper look.

With that, it was time to finally get to bed after being awake for over thirty hours.

The next morning I had a bit of a lie-in (up by about ten) before I went into town once again. Along the way I went to lots more shops and felt very very poor when I looked at the price tags. I also saw one of the finest pieces of marketing I have ever come across:

If you can’t read it, get better eyes.

I liked the pairing of these street names.

After some more walking I had a late lunch at a place called Shady Grove where they broadcast an acoustic evening most Thursdays. Sadly, though, I wasn’t there on a Thursday. Still, the food was good and it had a nice vibe. After that I explored more of Austin, heading to Waterloo Records and some other shops before I made it down to the riverside in search of the statue of Stevie-Ray Vaughan.

On my way there I found 35 million joggers and a pullup and dip stand. As I’d not had a chance to workout since I got here I was eager to get involved, set my iPod to lifting music, and proceeded to feel well and truly ashamed. I’m not even going to tell you how little I managed.

That done, I saw the statue, listened to some Blues, and headed home to the hostel. There I saw Bill, who had been on a date to Barton Springs. I’d seen him briefly in the morning before I headed out and he’d been a bit worried when he realised I hadn’t come home the previous night, which is nice. I planned to have a quiet evening before departing the following morning, and took the hostel guitar, minus a string, down to the lakeside and wrote almost an entire song, which is something I haven’t managed in a very long time. At that point I went inside to get my phone to record it so I wouldn’t forget it and met Brendan in the dorm. He’s from Exeter and is doing an MA in photography and shooting exclusively film while he’s here. He invited me out with a few other people so I had a quick shower and joined them outside. As an aside, seeing a Jack the Ripper book lying on the bunk below you isn’t remotely disconcerting.

After some talking, a few of us caught the bus into town and headed for Red River street for some live music. We ended up at Emo’s. Three of us paid the cover charge but three didn’t want to and went elsewhere. The music was punky which isn’t always my thing, but I had a good time, very much enjoying the ‘HAN SHOT FIRST’ refrain in a Star Wars tribute song. The headliners, Schmillion, were comprised of four girls on guitars/bass/vocals and a guy on drums. Most of them had fairly large symbols on their hands denoting the fact that they are too young to drink.

After a fairly stellar performance I spoke to one of the guitarists who had been rocking a Gibson Les Paul Silverburst, a guitar which Rob and I have wasted* hours of our lives staring at in Manchester. She had been saving since she was six for a pony, but made the fairly solid decision to buy one of those instead. I also spoke to the singer, who told me that they had supported Arcade Fire recently. Before the first show the singer mocked them for being a hobby band who made no money from their music. He apologised profusely after he saw them play.

*not even remotely wasted.

After the music was over we found another bar for a little while and before long I was asking Brendan about his tattoos. He has two fairly large circles on the back of his calves as well as numerous others, including ‘property of Abi’, his lesbian roommate (she has a matching ‘property of Brendan’) and the words ‘Why not?’, which a group of travelers got together. Finally, I borrowed a sharpie from the barman and began playing join-the-dots on his back to form a giraffe.

After all this excitement it was time for bed, and we caught taxis home to the hostel. I set my alarm for just over three hours’ time. It’s a good job Bill was heading to Santa Fe next too because my alarm didn’t go off. Thankfully he woke me at half seven, although the woman from his date failed to make us breakfast as she’d promised. I’d packed the night before after my shower but I still ended up being in a hurry because I’d meant to get up at seven. Still, we were out of the door in good time where we were joined by a man travelling for work who stayed in the hostel even though he lives in Austin.

We arrived at the bus stop, which was pointed out to us by a very kind driver, where we were almost immediately asked for directions by a girl who was trying to drive there. There didn’t seem to be a way due to the nature of the junction, but we pointed her in the right direction, and we later saw her there. I killed most of the wait for the bus watching the Murdoch hearing live on CNN but sadly missed any pie-based action.

I spent most of the journey to Dallas trying to sleep, and I’m glad I did, because when I woke up it was fairly warm. It turns out that broken air-conditioning on a bus in Texas isn’t a whole lot of fun, and the last half hour or so of the journey was really quite uncomfortable, and it wasn’t made any easier by a number of people shouting about how hot it was every minute or so. We had a long layover in Dallas but as we didn’t want to leave our things we waited there. I spent most of it people watching. There was a moment of panic when the board said our bus had been cancelled but an attendant told me to ignore everything on the board as it was always wrong.

That pretty much sums up the terrible organisation at the Greyhound station in Dallas, and it was only with a little bit of luck I got to the front of the line. Once on the bus I saved a seat for Bill, and we were finally on our way. We had another brief layover in Amarillo where the station was under repair and consequently a total free-for-all. We were very worried that we wouldn’t make it onto the bus due to the sheer volume of people, but we managed to make our way to the front of the queue after the reboarders and even found seats together.

When we arrived in Albuquerque at about 7am we learned that Bill’s luggage had not been transferred from the last bus and the next one wouldn’t come until about 3 that afternoon. We went for breakfast in a small cafe which I think is called Nick’s and is now Bill’s favourite breakfast place in the world. I enjoyed it, but that’s perhaps a bit over the top for me. We parted ways for a while not long after because I wanted to get checked in and Bill wanted to wait for his luggage.

I caught the Railrunner train, complete with ‘meep meep’ sound effects as the doors close, to Santa Fe. I wanted to take advantage of the free wifi to book some accommodation for later in the week, but the lack of a power socket and incredible views soon changed my mind. After checking in I caught the bus to downtown Santa Fe and was tempted by an Indian jewelry shop. Before I really knew what had happened I walked out with a new necklace which is good, because I’m wanted one for a while.

The day soon got more expensive when I found myself in a shop just down the street where I finally found a pair of cowboy boots for the bargain price of $99 before tax. Fuck. Yes. That done, and already trying to figure out how I was going to transport them for the rest of the trip, I walked into the centre of Santa Fe proper via a vintage shop which had, amongst other things, a collection of ridiculously expensive guitars. Lunch was accompanied by live music, which is always nice.

Santa Fe is a very quaint place, but I’m glad I took Nicola’s advice and reduced the time I would spend there. Although it looks wonderful with adobe buildings everywhere you turn, there’s not really a lot to do; once you’ve been in a few of the art galleries you don’t really feel the urge to go in many more, particularly as a lot of the art is in a very similar style.

And speaking of adobe, check this out:

If that’s too small to read, it’s called ‘The Adobe Photo Shop’. Very clever.

Passing a camera shop elsewhere I went in to ask about the possibility of repairing my damaged flash. Unfortunately they’d have had to send it in to Nikon, which would have a) cost a fortune and b) left me without a camera, so I’m making do for now. I walked to the plaza and took a seat to take in the atmosphere and at that point, presumably with a change in pressure on it, felt a pain in my ankle. I looked down to see redness and swelling. Not good. After a fairly uncomfortable stroll back to a bus stop I was back at the hostel where I saw Bill who had collected his luggage and checked in. He wanted me to go downtown with him, but after I explained about my leg he went on his own.

I looked into going to the ER to have my leg looked at, but with average costs just to see a doctor running around $500 I booked a taxi to a walk-in clinic for first thing in the morning, wrote some blog, and went to bed. The next day I did my chore (sweeping an outside pathway to keep it clear of dust, which is a remarkably futile endeavour) and then it was taxi time. When I got to the clinic, around five minutes before it was due to open, there were already four people waiting. After around half an hour’s waiting and some form filling I was moved to an examination room. They were having a bit of trouble with their computer systems so there was lots of faffing, but when I eventually saw a doctor I gave her my diagnosis and she gave me my prescription, with a couple of refills so if it happens again I won’t have to pay the extortionate sum to see another doctor. The total cost, including the first lot of medication? Over $200. If you live here, get insurance!

With drugs in hand I returned to the hostel and rested my leg. I’d hoped to see a bit of Albuquerque but I decided that it was far more sensible to heal up, particularly with my trek getting closer and closer by the day. There I was greeted by a young lad who was staying there with his parents. He seemed very surprised when I told him that because his father is a Native American, so is he ‘But I’m white’, he exclaimed. Before he left he taught me a secret handshake. I remember it well, but I don’t imagine I’ll ever see him again to use it.

For most of the day I kept myself amused with the hostel guitar, lost my plectrum, and caught up on my blog deficit. I also spoke to a Canadian who’s moving down there and looking for jobs who advocated coming over here to to do a PhD and starting the immigration progress while I’m here anyway. And all I’d really said was that it seems like a nice place to live and my neighbours son now lived here! Eventually it was time to leave, so I caught the Railrunner back out to Albuquerque. At the train station I saw a girl carrying a toy lightsaber. How could I not talk to her after that?

She had returned to New Mexico around three months ago after living in South Africa with her missionary parents and is still readjusting to life over here. At first I thought her name may have been Amanda, but it turned out I’d mis-read her tattoo, which in fact read amandla, the Zulu word for ‘strength’ or ‘power’. She got off a couple of stops before me and I spent the rest of the journey enjoying the views but also witnessing some serious poverty. When I arrived at the Greyhound station the ticket desk was closed, there were almost no people around, and I had no idea what was going on.