Saturday, June 15, 2013

Dump 'Em! or, How we learned to stop worrying and love the bomb.

After leaving the swamp country outside of Baton Rouge we headed on west towards Texas. Texas and the rest of the southwest is a region that has always excited me for its near mythical associations. Growing up addicted to Cowboy vs. Indian lore, and watching the smooth talking, quick shooting characters of John Wayne movies, Texas and the wide open West was a place I had often heard about but never experienced for myself. Coming over a ridge on I-10, the sprawling plains of Texas unfolded before me and after almost two weeks, we had left the southeast behind us, and were on wholly unfamiliar ground.
                We made a quick stop at a local Burger Joint on the outskirts of Houston and were back underway to Austin. Though the area was going through a drought, we managed to get caught in three torrential downpours. Earlier in the trip we used a makeshift tarp (a classic red and white picnic tablecloth) to cover our overhead carrier and keep rain out. After thousands of miles of driving and weather it had been tattered to shreds and rain soaked our overhead supplies.
                Finally coming out of the rain, we checked into our Motel 6 on the northern edge of Austin (with only two guests of course). We have gotten into somewhat of a routine checking into our base camps after two weeks on the road. After lugging our suitcases up a few sets of stairs and throwing the door open, someone checks for the requisite towel number (3 of course) then as a group there is a period of complaining (or praising) for the lack of amenities (“What, we don’t get a spa at this place? $50 just doesn’t get you what it used to. THREE DOLLARS FOR WIFI?!”). For the most part, though, we are more than satisfied with our two beds, a shower and the ability to stay in one place for a little bit. So we kick back, relax, talk about the drive and figure out what exactly we want to do that night.
                Being in Austin, we knew that meant checking out the world-famous 6th Street, by way of a taco or two. We found our way to a little food truck called The Art of Tacos, nestled into a little side street called Rainey Street, where the houses have been converted into restaurants and bars and ropes of Christmas lights hang from poles and wires that criss-cross the yards. We were very struck by the abundance of food trucks in the city, and in this area in particular. The trucks all come together and form makeshift villages where people starting or ending their nights all seem to congregate. It is a great atmosphere where strangers sit together, and everyone has something to say.
                In an attempt to digest our meals we took a walk down by the Colorado river then up to the Texas Capitol building, a southwestern take on the classic dome we are so used to seeing. 6th street was getting pretty packed by the time we showed up. Unlike Nashville which was busy and bustling where you could get run over by throngs of people if you didn’t know where you were going, 6th street had a laid back feel, especially considering the hoards of people. The music was diverse and there were tons of options, the people were fun yet classy (I’m looking at you New Orleans), and it made for a great night.
                We got a rare opportunity to sleep in the next day, and took full advantage, eventually pulling ourselves up to go to a nearby thrift store (I don’t know if everything is bigger in Texas but this sure was). We scored a couple sweet new road shirts and headed out to enjoy some Texas BBQ, heavy with some tender brisket, thick, saucy ribs and probably the best sausage we have ever had. It was enough to put us down for a little bit and it was a bit of a struggle to get back up for the evening.
                Austin has a pretty lively arts and entertainment scene, and there was almost too much to decide between, with concerts, stand-up comedy and film screenings. We settled on an evening showing of “Singing in the Rain,” a 1950’s musical comedy that Chris had never seen. It was being shown at a wonderful place, the Paramount Theater on Congress Ave. It’s a classic movie and playhouse, with an old-fashioned box office, ushers wearing tuxes, gilded box seats lining the walls and complete with a large red curtain covering the screen. The audience was full of old fans, parents showing their children the movie for the first time (and what a place for it!) and young people like us looking for a good time on a Sunday night. Everyone cheered as the curtain was drawn back, clapped after each song and laughed at the right times.

                The next day we cooled off at Barton Springs pool, a natural pool with clear water, seaweed along the bottom, and sunbathers lining the hills that border the pool. I imagine we could have spent all day there but our friend Andy Lutz and his girlfriend Katherine had just returned from an extended trip to South America and we all were eager to meet up. They showed us around the University of Texas then took us to a place called Trudy’s, a Mexican restaurant, where Jackson and I agreed we had the best nachos we’d ever had (we’re somewhat of nacho aficionados). After a few drinks, some solid catching up time and a marathon of corn hole games outside a nearly empty bar we called it a night, crashing for free on Andy’s floor and woke up ready to make our way west, traversing the desert on our way to California.--A 

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