Journey, til the end

Austin seems to be emblematic of the development spectre haunting western cities. Cranes loom over the skyline, restaurants and bars appear and disappear overnight, banners with happy faces and catchy names decorate the fences of gutted open spaces to warn of impending condominiums, and construction everywhere. Sixth street is bar after kitschy bar, and the UT campus concentrates Starbucks, fast food, and wing and pizza joints. Condos really are everywhere, even downtown. And it continues to stretch out, to sprawl. In a word - a word that's been kicked around, but serves its purpose - antiseptic.

But this is only half the story, and the other half is why I'm here, now. Sixth street is actually quite fun, and the campus itself is a pleasure to walk through and marvel at the combination of buildings and greenery. South Austin, where I live - especially just south of the river - is funky and pretty. South Congress Ave may be yuppified, but the neighborhoods are full of cacti gardens, stone houses, genuinely inviting coffee shops, and a plethora of taco wagons, including the great Trailer Park Eatery. But the real bastion of the unique and real in Austin, and I didn't realize this until after moving here - through random events, exploration, and word of mouth - is the East Side. Until the bastards come and take it over, the East Side is a testament to the particular, the organic, the different, the free. Here there is no architectural "plan," no compartmentalization, and very little gentrification. That will come - as it always does (42nd street in NYC, Chinatown in Boston, etc.) - but until it does, follow me dear reader, on a journey, an exploration of the unique and the real. It won't last forever, but we will journey - until the end!

After watching the great 12 Angry Men, roommate Tania and I wanted to go see the modern Russian version that just came out, 12. But the cinema is way up north, and she drives a scooter that's really only "made for one and a half people." And highways are out of the question. But we made a valiant effort, really - trying to hit the major roads that might eventually take us to the oasis - until we realized it wasn't to be. So, with ham and cheese sandwiches already made, we decided to go to the East Side.

Parked in a random lot off of E. 6th that happened to be right next to a bar I'd been meaning to check out. Don't even remember the name, but it's a no-frills prole-friendly place, with a spacious back patio. We got some funny looks as we arrived, and I realized that showing up on the back of the scooter driven by a young woman (not to mention my H&M jeans and Hamilton T-shirt) might not endear me to the Budweiser crowd. Tania asked me to carry her bag in (with the sandwiches), and under any other circumstances I would've, but not now, not here. Trust me on this one. So we got our beers and sat at an outside table. Looking out at two big trees surrounding port-a-potties, as the setting sun hits the light side of a church next door, it's quite serene. Then the owner bought another round for the whole house - something I'd only heard about in movies. Never found out why, but it was awesome. We decided it was okay to eat our sandwiches.

On to the next: a bar further east on 6th, with a patio, but no discernible name or sign. I asked the bartender, who was very friendly. "It's called Rabbit's. See that old guy in the chair over there? That's Rabbit. He's owned the place for 40 years." Rabbit waves to us and points to the dance floor (a small space between tables), saying, "Feel free to dance." We sit at an outside table near speakers, pumped from the jukebox, playing everything from the Platters to Quincy Jones. Under Christmas lights, flying ants spin drunkenly in dizzyingly tiny circles on the table-top. I've never seen anything like it before.

Further east on 6th, past Comal, there are condos, and it's too far. South, then west on 5th, past the amazing (and apparently permitted) mural of mushroom men and a Pam Grier-like blaxploitation queen with a shotgun, we arrive at Cafe Mundi. It's free outdoor movie night, but the movie (Orwell Rolls in his Grave) is almost over. No matter - the outside seating area is like a jungle, even better at night. Blue bulb lights illuminate all sorts of plants and bamboo, and in the corner, a circular stone alcove with a ring of columns surrounding. Explore the alley behind the jungle and it looks like a huge mushroom is coming out of a tree, but it's actually just a stool attached. Still sitable. The place closed down and apparently forgot about us while we were lost in the jungle.

Past the cool European-style train station (Tania was delighted to see something like this, which you rarely find around here), and further west on 4th, to the Scoot Inn, to show the Portuguese (that's Tania) how we play Skee-Ball. (I've recently joined a Skee-Ball league down here, and it's one of the best things I've done.) They also have a huge outdoor beer garden. Chatted with the bartender for a bit, and he recommended we head up to Long Branch (owned by the Scoot folks as well). North on Navasota, past a cemetery and a church, through a residential neighborhood (there really is no line between the residential and commercial on the East Side), up to 11th, and over to the Long Branch. Like the Scoot, they have animal heads hanging on the walls, and raccoons on the gallery behind the bar, but the deer are accentuated by colorful modern art, like a pink nose-guard or a green sleeve over an antler. It's a wonderful counterpart to the farmhouse that is the Scoot Inn that is my second home.

The night ends with a homemade chicken caesar salad split at a bus stop. But the journey will continue....