Being tired and travel are pretty synonymous, especially during the first couple days, if only because of jet lag or because of letting loose from all your work stress etc the moment you arrive. For me its because I’m a light sleeper and even the squeaking of a fan can keep me up, which is not good considering I usually stay in hostels and low cost hotels usually filled with young, restless and usually drunk travelers; as we experienced last night with the two young Texans coming in and out in a drunken fumble around the small room housing six men. But just because your tired doesn’t mean you’ll rest and relax, the thing we all imagine we’ll do when getting away from whatever grind we were at. No. We are animals of habit and most of us have been habituated to work and work alone. Whatever form of that we engage in is up to us, but we will continue to operate as entrained. For me that work means three things;
Writing. Either in my novels, blogs or just daily thoughts.
Spreading Truth, Love and Freedom. This is part and parcel of the first point.
Exploration. No matter where I am I explore the area. Even if I’m home and have been everywhere, I return to places I haven't been in for a long time, or go there in a different way at a different pace, on foot as opposed to on two or four wheels.
Thus I go to explore the city of Austin on foot. If my phone was “normal” like everyone else’s I’d be able to use any one of the many Lime-Uber scooter and e-bikes that line the sidewalks, but as it stands that is not in the cards least I want to spend an inordinate amount of time doing the workaround, which is okay, I’m not trying to pass by everything quickly, but slowly. How else am I to enjoy it and know If I want to live here for the next… lifetime? Foreseeable future? I don’t know. How long does a global economic collapse and world war 3 supposed to last?
I went back to the same Cafe as before, I like the vibe and the cold brews are good. I find their coconut milk to be top tier as well, which for a vegan is very important. After writing a blog post I walked out, taking the bike trail to see the river and sneezed, for the second time on my trip and for the second time a passerby who I had not seen before said,
“God Bless you!” and continued on their way. I began to wonder if there were people always waiting in the bushes just to bless me whenever the devil encroached… so far its been true, but we shall see.
I found my way to the nearest place with Vegan options, a high end restaurant just down the street known as The Well. I got the avocado toast as a test against the perfect kinds I know back home. It was a $16, four bite appetizer which was very tasty and well made, but will sustain me for nay 30 minutes and thus is an obscene luxury I will not repeat, but what do I expect from the downtown ritz in a State Capitol?
From there I walked to Saint Mary’s church, the same name of the church my father attended back home while alive. Inside I found a sermon nearing completion. I don’t know what I expected to find, but it was not a Nigerian man with a heavy accent barely able to speak the words or remember them as he was reading from notes in front of him. His robes were blood red with banner of flowing white and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was the main man or a substitute priest of some kind on loan from some sister church in Africa.
I stood outside the main chapel with the glass partition, where a man sat with head in between his legs, his eyes intently locked on his phone. To his left on the other side of the room a woman prayed intently on her knees. I got the feeling she felt unworthy to be inside the actual main hall. When I saw the red robed Nigerian Priest kneel with the cup of wine above his head and all the attendees lower their heads and sing in latin I had the surreal feeling of being in a movie. As the church bells rang I walked out of the building, my head full of memories from my own time within the faithful, oh so long ago, a chill up my spin.
Finally I found the State Capitol grounds and made my way inside, it was just as I imagined it. A place for senators and government officials to congregate, Texas style. Old growth wood affixed to brass shined to perfection, thick foundations and lots of highbrow importance filling the air. Inside the main chamber there was two young men taking selfies, one of which had a hat on despite their being signs everywhere that it was not allowed. An armed woman with a short barrel Ar-15 with a light attachment came up and said in definite tones,
“Sir, please lose the hat.”
“Oh, alright, but may I ask why?'“
“Just so the representatives feel safe.”
The man frowned and nodded his head raising his eyebrows.
“BASED,” he said, using a term very much now correlated with the Red Pill movement, somehow I’m not sure exactly why. I immediately had the urge to ask,
”Based on what? Like Turkey Based?” I laughed in my head and looked for the exit.
There were dozens of police and security guards wielding Ar-15’s, but for all their gear they were imminently cordial. I’ve found that the police here are some of the nicest I’ve ever met. Even as I was exiting the Capitol building one of the Ar-15 wielding guards was speaking to a recently married women with a baby in a baby carriage, and she asked for help carrying it up the steps, he agreed but I quickly intervened.
“No Mam, let me help you, the mans carrying a gun.” I said, and thats just how it happened. Everyone including the guard was all smiles. Again, like something out of a movie or T.V. show.
From there it was a short walk to the State history museum, which is unique in that it doubles as an imax theater which was currently showing Godzilla Zero, a film I have never heard of and momentarily considered seeing. Instead I bought the standard entry ticket, a whooping $22. Inside the 3 story building I learned more about Texan history than ever before and it was well worth the time I spent inside, though I honestly need to make it a rule to eat before attempting such things. The entire time I felt like falling to the floor and taking a nap, for at this point the avo-toast I had eaten 2 hours before was but a vapor in my stomach and I needed something to keep the crawl going. The brain consumes 70% of all calories and one can hardly be expected to read hundreds of placards of information on caloric mysticism alone. Yet thats what I did, speeding up and not finishing completely to be sure, but I got the general gist.
In short Texas was and is a strange mix of French, Spanish and American cultures all rapped tightly into a history of violence and rugged individualism whose proclivities for bigotry are perhaps unmatched for any state in the Union. Many famous people came from Texas, including the infamous George Bush Jr. whose responsible for the deaths of over 1 million Iraqi’s, as Joe Rogan reminded everyone in his bit last night, and then there’s the much more amiable personage of Beyonce, one of the greatest selling artists alive today. But not only famous people come from Texas, there’s famous technology and historical happenings which mark it as unique in all the world, such as the the integrated circuit and the personal computer, NASA and the Apolo space program, the first man to convincingly land on the moon and all that jazz.
By the time I made it to the end of the entire museum I was hungry and cold, the place was overly air conditioned for this time of year and I was in shorts and a t-shirt, so I looked up a restaurant to eat at on Happycow.net and found a Korean place, which turned out to be a Vietnamese place which served Singaporian food… In any case I got the spicy tofu dish with rice and broccoli and immediately felt 20 times better. The food cost me the same as the avo-toast and although it was clearly food dye, msg and canola oil laiden I was happy for it. I didn’t know it then but I would need the energy.
I found my way back to Whole Pay Check and got 5 cans of coconut water, peanut butter, celery, cucumber and pumpkin seeds. I drank two of the cans just to lighten my load and headed back to the hostel.
There I put my things away, listened to K about her nomadic life goals once more, then got Letters from Earth by Mark Twain, a brilliant book I’ve been reading on and off for over a year, and read it for over an hour inside the bar and dance hall in the basement of the hostel. It was a real trip to be doing so, I believe it is my first time. I must have looked very strange indeed, but I tell you it was well worth it. Not simply because of the quality material but because of the novelty of it. No alcohol and a book in my hand, inside a banging club? Again, a surreal experience belonging in a Hollywood fiction.
I did that for some time before the desire to dance overcame me. I put my things away inside the room and took to the dance floor, ripping it up on the front row all by my self. Star of the show yet to come. Thats the thing about a dance floor, even if its filled with people its a graveyard until someone starts to move. Then the reason everyone is there becomes apparent, shields go down and the moves which set us free from our mortifying molds begin. I knew I needed sleep, but I kept on till midnight.
After a shower I put my earplugs in and experienced a rehash of the night before with the same drunken Texans, this time till 2 am with the girls they had lured just outside the room. Luckily or unluckily perhaps, they couldn’t close the deal, and remained outside the door which was not and would not close properly without lifting it up and into the correct orientation, which even if you managed to do would be undone the second anyone opened it, which they frequently did, but like a monk I remained committed to remaining in bed, eyes closed against the terrors of drunken buffoonery which plagues every nation on Earth. I would have dreams of old, those I’ve had again and again yet with minor differences, those which speak of decision and consequence. In my dreams I wondered;
“Is this my new home?”