Send The Bugger Back

It was Sunday and not many buses were running so I couldn’t be arsed with the 3 mile walk into town last night.

After a good night’s rest I awoke to completely perfect weather and happily walked into the city. If California is the sunshine state Texas must have run them pretty close for the right to that there moniker.

I’m not sure about Austin’s tag as the music capital of the world yet as I’m yet to see even a busker. Okay it’s only 18:23 on a Monday but surely it should be 24/7 in the ‘music capital’.

I have found the Red River and 6th Street area though which looks promising, lots of music venues, clubs and bars. Coyote Ugly (which I will likely avoid) is one and a reggae club called Flamingo Cantina (which I will likely sample) is another, it must be good as they have a signed photo of Toots and the Maytals up in the window.

On 6th street I went in a quirky little t-shop and was asked if I wanted to visit the Museum of Weird at the back for $3. I replied not really but the curiousity will likely haunt me until my dying day if I don’t and this is no doubt what you rely upon, I don’t think she understood. It was a throwback to dime sideshows of the past and was, well, crap. But at least I left worry free, that’s worth 3 bucks of any mug’s money.

I picked up my train ticket earlier for Wednesday evening’s 28 hour journey on the Texas Eagle route with Amtrak. It was relatively easy, though to be fair I think they only have 1 train every 3 days (seriously) apart from freight trains. A freight train was passing at the same time as I was; they are gigantic with a never ending array of different carriages. It was very cool and romantic and I almost lost myself in the moment and made a running jump on to one of the protruding side ladders. Thankfully not though or I’d probably be being told to “squeal piggy” in Arkansas right about now.

One thing that has been bothering me on this trip is the specification of your average bar/restaurant/museum sit down (número 2) toilet. While not as bad as the ‘hole and squat’ kind often found in Eastern Europe, they leave a lot lacking in the privacy department. At my height of 6ft I find myself at eye level (while standing) with any other patron using the facillities, there is also enough room for an overweight Jimmy Cranky to comfortably crawl under the bottom end of the barrier.

I’m just having a couple of beers (I paid $2 in the last public house, cheapest so far!) on 6th Street before going bat hunting at sunset, that’s right, bat hunting readers. There is a bridge on Congress Avenue that hosts around 10,000 of the little blighters on vacation from Mexico who go insect eating every night just before dusk, 20:02 this particular evening. Holy smokes.

Okay, post bat action now and not to be soppy, but it was beautiful. I may return tomorrow and furnish the moment with Sigur Ros on the iPod.

They seemed to come out in squadrons a couple of hundred strong with a few seconds gap between the groups. Nature, strange if you ask me.

The serenity of the spectacle was lessened somewhat by the fact that the old Bowen bladder wasn’t holding up too swell, the Miller Lite draft and the 2 bottles of imported Heineken were attempting to stage a jail-break. I made my way the 5 blocks back to 6th street (and barsville) as fast as my flap flipps would marry me.

Even in my perilous situation I passed a couple of bars as a few hundred metres down I could hear some dirty blues funk blasting out of a door. Boacher, tell the auld fella he’d love it here.

I like Austin, keep it weird.