10 days, 10 states: Keeping it weird in Austin, Texas

by Kyle Ellison on

“We were headed down the road, hit the border, by the morning, to let Texas fill my soul…”
-Pat Green

I will admit that I eat some pretty strange things on occasion, because when you’re on the road a lot, that’s simply what you do. Snails in France, squid in Singapore, and what might have been cat in Vietnam. Never in my life, however, of all the culinary curiosities that have found their way into my gullet, have I ever harbored the urge to roll out of bed and immediately start eating a taco.

In Austin, however, this is apparently just what you do. You get up. You brush your teeth. And then you go eat some tacos.

Rousted out of bed by my taco-needing, still-intoxicated-from-last-night college roommate who now calls Austin home, morning pleasantries were barely exchanged before making a beeline for a taco stand clear on the other side of town. What initially seemed like unnecessary haste proved to be a keen sense of timing. As it turns out, on any given Saturday morning thousands of young people in Austin, Texas are simultaneously craving tacos. Maybe tens of thousands.

Don’t believe me? I wouldn’t either. That was until I pulled into Taco Deli at 9:30am only to be thrust into the back of a line at least 65 people deep which wrapped around the side of the building into the hinterlands of South Austin. Already well documented by fellow Gadling blogger Elizabeth Seward as being a city known for its food trucks and DIY food culture, old and young Austinites alike have a serious soft spot for Mexican food in the AM.

And, I found out, so do I.

Morning meat aside, Austin is a city that has been well documented in Gadling lately, and justifiably so. As the “Keep Austin Weird” movement has demonstrated, Austin is one of the funkiest and most fascinating cities in all of the 50 states. A bubble of progressive thought in a traditionally conservative state, the movement to keep Austin as a locale which promotes independent businesses and champions large amounts of music, art, and culture has infused the capital city with an energy and an atmosphere that draws people to the city in droves.How large is the current allure of Austin? In a 2011 list put out by Forbes magazine, Austin was listed as the fastest growing city in the entire country with a 37% spike in population over the last decade. Add in the 52,000 students currently matriculating at the University of Texas, and you might understand the depth of the morning rush for tacos.

Even with its rapid growth. however, Austin remains the largest city in the United States that doesn’t have a professional sports team. Much of this is of course due to the Longhorns being the undisputed owners of every shred of sports passion from here to San Antonio, and most argue that there’s simply no room for a pro team in a city that bleeds burnt orange.

Don’t believe me again? Go to a UT tailgate outside the football stadium and begin to question the level of passion. As I undertake the epic road journey that has become “10 days, 10 states, 10 great American sights”, I was fortuitously able to sculpt my itinerary around a Texas home game in an effort to experience the mayhem for myself. Judging from the the throngs of beer toting, burnt orange wearing good citizens of Austin, if you had told me the entire city had shut down for the occasion I wouldn’t have begun to argue. Though Austin may be a progressive bubble, this is still football in Texas, and nothing gets in the way of that. Ever.

Cruising through the uber-hip South Congress (SoCo) district of town prior to the game, it’s fair to say that there’s much more to Austin than breakfast tacos, food trucks, live music, and football. One of the most popular districts with visiting tourists, South Congress is an artsy, oft-photographed neighborhood rife with boutique salons and vintage shops that exude the “weirdness” Austin aims to maintain. As if to justify the funky vibe, a purple-haired man with a guitar and a pair of zebra pants comes waltzing out of the psychedelic themed costume shop Lucy in Disguise with Diamonds, easily melting into the sea of energetic passerby.

Staring down the street at the Texas capitol building (which is the largest state capitol in America, and 7th largest building in the world when it was first built), the streets of South Congress teem with a curbside mixture of proud alumni, tight-jeaned hipsters, camera-toting tourists, hungover coeds, and some poor guy just trying to get a taco.

Thanks for welcoming me to your city, Austin. And thanks for keeping it weird.

Follow Kyle on the rest of his journey as he explores “10 days, 10 states, 10 great American sights”.

10 days, 10 states: Finding America’s oldest in Santa Fe, New Mexico

by Kyle Ellison on

“We’ll pack up all our junk and fly so far away, devote ourselves to projects that sell. We’ll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe, forget this cold, Bohemian Hell” -Rent-

This may sound alarming, but I have actually met people–American people–who are unaware that New Mexico is one of the 50 US states. As shocking as that seems, it is, I suppose, slightly understandable, but inexcusable nonetheless. After all, there is no state called New Canada, though that barely qualifies as an excuse.

To be fair, however, it hasn’t always been this way. As the 47th star on the US flag, New Mexico didn’t become a US state until 1912. As of this writing, that’s still under 100 years. Although New Mexico’s history as a member of the United States may be relatively young, it’s capital city, Santa Fe, is the oldest European city in the western US.

And this, is exactly why I am here.

From a historical perspective, there are few American cities more intriguing than Santa Fe. Originally given the name of “La Villa Real de la Santa Fé de San Francisco de Asís”, (“The Royal Town of the Holy Faith of St. Francis of Assisi”), Santa Fe was established in 1607 as a remote territory of Spain. Only St. Augustine (1565) in Florida is older, with Jamestown, Virginia (1607) being established by the English at roughly the same time.

It’s endlessly fascinating to me that a mere few hundred years ago, this altitudinous town at the base of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains was actually part of Spain, especially seeing as modern day America was a concept that wouldn’t be realized for at least another 150 years.

Ok, so Santa Fe is old. I knew that while driving here from Durango, Colorado. I didn’t realize, however, that when it comes to being old, Santa Fe is a wonderland of superlatives. It’s the oldest capital city in the United States (as well as the highest at 7,000 ft.). The oldest house in America is in Santa Fe. The oldest church in America, San Miguel chapel, is in Santa Fe. The Palace of Governors, the oldest public building in America, is also, as you might have guessed, here in Santa Fe.

%Gallery-139205%Standing in front of the St. Francis Cathedral Basilica in Santa Fe’s historic downtown district, I am immediately transported to my days spent as a wide-eyed university student in Salamanca, Spain. Although the modern day cathedral was not built until the 19th century, the town’s church has resided on this very plot of land since the day of the city’s first founding.

In the spirit of my “10 days, 10 states, 10 great American sights” road trip, Santa Fe is also the beginning of the fabled Old Spanish Trail. As the de facto capital of the entire region, the Old Spanish Trail was a rugged trade route that originated in Santa Fe and ran across the desert to faraway Los Angeles. Due to the remote and barren nature of the route, traders would eventually spill into Santa Fe laden with merchandise and goods ready to be bartered and sold.

As my wife and I haggle with a street merchant over a pair of blue turquoise earrings, I sense the energy this Plaza must have held when merchants from Mexico City to Missouri came to hawk their wares. Although the Old Spanish Trail has been replaced by nearby Interstate 40 (which is nowhere near as exciting), Santa Fe’s legacy as a marketplace for crafts and artisans continues to live on. As the acclaimed travel writer Jan Morris famously notes, “Santa Fe is the artiest, sculpturest, weaviest and potteryest town on Earth”.

Of all the goods that have been garnered and sold in this very square, it’s immediately apparent form a leisurely amble through the Plaza that the blue turquoise has managed to thrive. There are blue turquoise necklaces. There are blue turquoise belts. There are statues of animals and boots and entire pieces of furniture that are hopelessly adorned in blue turquoise.

We buy the earrings and climb the adobe stairs to a restaurant that overlooks the Cathedral and Plaza, it’s central obelisk covered in historic New Mexican quotes. Over a dish of New Mexican cuisine–classically Mexican dishes infused with red and green chiles and honey-dipped sopapillas–I partake in a locally craft-brewed beer and watch as the setting sun illuminates the earth-stained adobe walls of the town.

Though normally not one for shopping, in discussing the freshly purchased earrings, for a moment I realize I’m pleased to be just another merchant on an ancient North American trade route; another transaction in the continuing history of one of America’s oldest towns.

Follow Kyle on the rest of his journey as he explores “10 days, 10 states, 10 great American sights”.

Navy museum receives 111 year old pudding from the Boer War

by Jessica Festa on

One hundred and eleven years ago, a batch of Christmas pudding was made to cheer up a soldier fighting in the Boer War. While most would assume it would have been eaten long ago, it has actually turned up in a kitchen cupboard. The batch is thought to be one made by Victorian philanthropist Agnes Weston, often known as “the mother of the Navy” for her goodwill work writing to soldiers and sailors, visiting hospitals and prisons, and starting rest homes for sailors.

The pudding tin even contains the original instructions: “This pudding is ready for use but may be boiled for an hour if required hot”. Of course, being that the treat is way past its expiration date, it will not be served cold or hot but has been donated to the Royal Navy Museum in Portsmouth, Hampshire, United Kingdom.

The story of how the pudding was donated to the museum begins with a phone call from a woman who had found the tin in her kitchen cupboard. She knew that it had been in her deceased husband’s family for years, but did not know how much history it held, having actually been sent overseas from South Africa.

If you would like to check out the 111 year old pudding yourself, you can attend the Historic Dockyard’s Victorian Christmas Festival from November 25-27, 2011, where the exhibit will be on temporary display.

Super Mario flashmob takes over the Chicago, Illinois, Magnificent Mile

by Jessica Festa on

On Wednesday, more than 90 costumed Super Marios took over the streets of the Chicago, Illinois, Magnificent Mile. Around lunchtime, the flash mob broke out into dance in front of the John Hanock Center in an effort to promote Ninetendo’s new video game, Super Mario 3D Land.

As you can see in the video, one man really enjoyed Nintendo’s marketing efforts (although he had some trouble getting the moves down). The mobsters in the video are part of “Attack!”, a company that organizes promotional flash mobs around the country.

Check it out for yourself:

View more videos at: http://nbcchicago.com.

10 days, 10 states: Hiking the hoodoos of Bryce Canyon National Park, Utah

by Kyle Ellison on

“It’s a hell of a place to lose a cow” -Ebenezer Bryce, early settler

Amidst a gaggle of peace-sign obsessed Japanese tourists assembled for the sunrise on Bryce Point, an elderly man with a cane somehow managed to glacially sneak up on me.

“That,” he breathlessly stammered as we watched the rising sun dance upon the red rocks of the Bryce Canyon amphitheater, “is exactly what I came here for.”

Still alarmed by his stealthy presence, I smiled as he slid a shaky hand into his jacket pocket and eventually emerged with a yellow, disposable Kodak camera. A well placed eye in the viewfinder, a solitary click, a lingering moment of reflection, and the man turned back towards the parking lot with the air of having said goodbye.

Though the moment was fleeting, a profound point had been made: Bryce Canyon, Utah is the type of place you see before you die.

Staring out into the abyssal “how-on-Earth-did-it-get-like-that” geology of the amphitheater walls, it’s a surreal feeling to be standing in one of the last places in the contiguous 48 states to be explored by modern man.

Once the dwelling of the Fremont and Paiute tribes, it was Mormon pioneer Ebenezer Bryce who first forayed into the mysterious canyon in the 1870’s in search of suitable ranching and grazing lands. Settling in a primitive one room cabin at the base of a landscape completely foreign to westward expansionists, it was Bryce who is rumored to have made the astute statement regarding the lost cow.

At an air-sucking and frigid elevation that ranges from 8000-9000 feet, all cows aside, I feel that Bryce Canyon would be a hell of a place to try and live in a one room cabin in the middle of nowhere. Although set out in the middle of the desert, the weather forecast is calling for snow.

%Gallery-138990%While snow in the desert is always a counterintuitive concept, it’s this combination of cold temperatures and desert snow that gives birth to the unearthly rock formations that dominate the canyon. Melting snow or rainwater will slowly seep its way into fine cracks in the sedimentary rock, and as the temperature drops and the water freezes, the expanding ice will wedge the rock apart until it erodes to the valley floor below.

The result of this liquid assault is rock spires called hoodoos that can tower up to 200 feet over the red canyon floor. According to Paiute mythology, the hoodoos are the frozen remains of the Legend People who were turned to stone by that old southwestern trickster, the coyote.
Descending below the canyon rim on the short but steep Navajo Loop trail, it’s a theory that doesn’t require stretching your imagination.

Ambling down “Wall Street”, the narrow section of trail where the vertical walls of the canyon reduce the trail to a shoulder-width red sliver, I almost expect to see some “Occupy Bryce Canyon” protesters squatting in the canyon recesses. Instead, I round the bend and find two towering spruce trees well over a hundred feet tall leading a lonely existence in an environment otherwise devoid of green life. Though only 7:30am, it’s not the first time today I find myself scratching my head asking “how?”

Though intriguing, I didn’t walk this trail to ponder over spruce trees. I came for something bigger. Something manlier. Something that would make me feel like a conqueror.

I came here to stand beneath Thor’s Hammer.

Ridiculous, I know. It’s just a rock. But it’s the rock with the best name of any natural formation that I’ve seen yet since setting out to explore “10 days, 10 states, 10 great American sights”. Simply standing beneath Thor’s Hammer makes me want to sail ships and eat meat. It makes me want to pillage.

There would be no pillaging in this canyon, however. At least not today. I came to Bryce Canyon to catch the sunrise, and to gaze at one of darkest skies in the country while nestled in a cold but star-kissed tent.

I came to Bryce Canyon to hike amongst the hoodoos and reflect on isolation.

I came to Bryce Canyon to see it before I die.

Follow Kyle on the rest of his journey as he explores “10 days, 10 states, 10 great American sights”