ATX: BATS, TATS, AND THE GOLDEN GUN

Both for the sake of my memory and for the benefit of those for whom a visit to Dobosh country is still in its anticipatory stages, I recall here the highlights of my wonderful week in Austin, Texas.

PART I: Food
Austin has tons of great cafes and restaurants and I had very fine guides in Dobosh and Sandra Dee. I concentrated on the eating of Mexican food, something that Indiana is sorely lacking. My favorite discovery was migas, an egg dish with chiles, Mexican cheese, and tortilla chips added in at the end for texture. It is typically served with black beans and tortillas so you can make your own little breakfast tacos. Here is the migas I enjoyed at the South Congress Café, accompanied by a freakishly delicious potato pancake made with (dear god!) gouda cheese.

A recipe for migas is available here. Yum.

PART II: People
A town of roughly 700,000, Austin is filled with the kinds of characters you would expect to find on a small blue island in a giant red state. The lively, youthful atmosphere has much to do with the presence of several large universities and a famously happening music and bar scene. It is also so blanketed in independent businesses (particularly cafés and restaurants) that I was initially certain that there was a citywide statute that restricted chains. Turns out it is merely the iconoclastic preferences of Austinites that prevent Starbucks and 7-11s from proliferating. What a cool town.

Ryan, his lady Sandra Dee, and VacationKougar™ spent almost every morning visiting a different café for coffee, crosswords, dominos and leisurely reading. Everybody was friendly, sometimes overwhelmingly so. I was impressed by the fact that nearly everyone, from the ubercool baristas, to the joggers and bicyclists, to the flirtatious taxi driver who told me he “didn’t think they grew ‘em that purdy in Seattle” had numerous and visible tattoos. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if everyone else, legislators and lobbyists included, had hidden ones.

Ryan fits in quite nicely.

PART III: Activities
Not to demean my lovely hosts,
but I could have had a great time in Austin even without the help of locals. Granted, a 7-day bender might have lacked the variety and texture of my actual visit.

Originally I had justified the lengthy stay by convincing Ryan that he wanted to give me driving lessons, helping me along in my quest to obtain my driver’s license this year, a mere 15 years late. While I still need a lot more practice, I did enough driving that it became fun, rather than terrifying, and Dobosh was marvelously patient with me.

One of the first things Sandra Dee recommended I see was first Thursday on South Congress. A recently revitalized and now quite charming strip of shops and restaurants a mile or two up the road from the capitol dome, South Congress is most exciting on the first Thursday of every month, when artisans and craftspeople set up tents and live bands entertain the crowds. I spent a pleasant couple of hours browsing things and stuff, buying gifts and commodities, and slowly making my way towards downtown and the dome (barely visible here at the end of the street).

On my way north I couldn't help but notice a crowd of people gathered both on the Congress Bridge and in a small park beneath the bridge.

As I looked for a place from which to observe I overheard someone explaining the attraction; it was the bats. Austin is the home of North America’s largest urban bat colony, 1.5 million little creatures who come out en masse every night around sunset to feed on a nightly average of 10,000-30,000 pounds of insects. Ryan and I had been talking about going to see them but his work schedule kept getting in the way so it was serendipitous that I happened upon them myself.

The smell of 1.5 million bats is really something. I don’t know how desirable a riverfront condo in Austin would be, nor did I see the appeal of dining outdoors at the nearby T.G.I.Fridays.

The next day miss Sandra Dee was my tour guide. We spent the afternoon exploring the capitol (which, in true Texas style is actually larger than the federal version):

Later, we enjoyed cocktails and hors d’oeuvres at the Blanton Museum before a late dinner and a night on the town with a bunch of Sandra Dee's friends.

But it wasn’t all dissolute behavior. In fact I spent much of my week in Austin studying and so was determined to make the most of my last day in town. After a lazy afternoon we spent driving, enjoying cold beer, and sitting under the AC vent, Ryan packed up his Colt 1911 and we headed out to Red’s Indoor Range to shoot a few rounds. Since I’d never fired a gun before Ryan decided against bringing the heavy rifle, allowing me to instead use a firearm passed down from his grandfather and plated with gold by his father in the 1970s. It was a most impressive weapon.

And though I was nervous as heck and a little harried by all the other ammunition exploding around me, I did ok.

Actually, I killed it good.

It took me at least an hour to calm down enough to consider the next item on the agenda: getting a tattoo. Ryan and I had dinner on South Congress then wandered over to a studio a few doors down. I had been drawing sketches on my feet all day and showed one to a tattoo artist in the middle of inking a woman’s ankle. He told us he could do it after he was done with his current customer. And so we waited.

After browsing some magazines for inspiration for Ryan's next tattoo, we decided to grab a quick drink. Ryan wrote down his number and we headed upstairs; above the studio was a bar called the Continental Gallery where we ordered two Maker’s on the rocks. Following the stairs to a 3rd floor we made the happy discovery of a dark, deserted room with a ping-pong table and a lovely view of the city.

Dobosh isn’t at all competitive, so I found quite convincing his argument that when we got the call from the tattoo artist in the middle of a game where I was ahead 9 to 2, we had to run and would “never know the outcome of the game.” Whether or not I could have done something so audacious as to tie Ryan by 2 winning sets to match his 2 winning sets will forever remain a mystery. One thing is certain however – when I get back to China I’m hiring an elementary school student and going into training.

Since I’ve been back in Bloomington showing off my new ink a few of my friends have asked what possessed me to get my very first tattoo(s). Truthfully I’m not entirely sure. It was neither a longstanding dream nor a totally impulsive action. I’d given some thought to getting something, but I don’t quite know what sparked the final decision. I was certainly influenced by the style of Austin’s residents (particularly Ryan) and by the visual assault of the “lone star” in the city, but in the end it was just something I wanted to do.

While I was in the chair I understood it a little better. Radiohead was playing on the stereo, tiny needles were making indelible marks an inch from my toes, and every so often I would look at Ryan happily. There was a stubborn pleasure to doing something so permanent to my body and it felt right to have a visible reminder of the memory of my trip. The pain (which was mild and brief) brought me into a perfect present, and crystallized the moment when a dear friend was close at hand.

Here are two views, with, and without shoes.

It was impressive that I made it through the next day without tripping over something or crashing into a wall, so often did I look down to gaze with admiration at my feet. Later, while making a phone call, I suddenly realized that the stars weren't placed very symmetrically, with one a full centimeter lower than the other. But I don't mind at all, and in fact it is probably a good reminder that nothing is perfect and it really doesn't matter when there is so much more in the world to care about and to fight for.

But damn. My feet are looking CUTE.