So anyway, Austin. Dian von Austinburg and I went to to the You of Tee there more than thirty years ago and worked on the student newspaper together. Hilarious times. She was a mere child, I was a doper. Austin then was a redoubt of hippies and the burgeoning punk rockers. I worked at a motel where the Ramones stayed and they complained to me the laundry service they had sent their dirty clothes to (who knew the Ramones even bothered?) sent back their tee shirts with starch in them.
Austin now seems much more tidy, a very, very attractive clean little American city. They do flog the live music scene there (which was an important component of the slacker life style when I was resident) as a big time industry. There were two live bands playing in two different bars in the airport the day we left. Ask yourself if that might be the life you would have dreamed of.
One thing unchanged is the delicious Mexican food, in which we indulged at least once a day every day. I went to sleep in an enchilada induced food coma more more than once.
And now, the slide show!
We considered "provisions for men" but decided we had enough. Provisions, not men.
Instead, we repaired afterwards to a small neighborhood drug store called Nau's (my grandmother's family is related to the Nau's. I bring that up relentlessly whenever I pass the store, it was my one claim to fame.) The geek guy making milkshakes paid the kind of dedication and time to them that one would expect of research into cold fusion.
Diane was, as usual, the consummate great host, putting up with my crochets and eccentric driving. Yay for her bad self.
And then we got on the plane to come home and fell into the trip from hell. But let us never speak of that again.