"The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible." -Vladimir Nobokov

Tuesday, August 28, 2018

A Perfect Weekend in Three Parts

This weekend my family and I took a mini vacation to Austin. It's been years since I've been to Austin. Years. Even though it's only three hours away! The last few times, I was there for the Texas Book Festival, so I spent most of my days gallivanting around the capitol, soaking up the words of authors I admire, and trying to fit as much in as possible. This time, we're just here for the sake of getting away, being in a new place, and going where the wind takes us.

I don't think I realized how much I needed a vacation until this trip. These August days have been oppressive. This month feels like it's gone on forever, and more and more I've been feeling like every day is the same. The truth is, I've been wallowing and feeling sorry for myself for a while now. And boy, does it feel good to have done something about it.

If you've been feeling the same way, I hope you'll take matters into your own hands and plan yourself a little weekend getaway. It works wonders, I promise.

Here's a recap:

Day One - Friday

Afternoon: I get off work at 2pm and stock up on road food (aka Cheezits) on the way home. Dad is already in Austin for a seminar, so it's just mom and I, eating grilled cheese sandwiches and taking care of last minute preparations. We consult google maps before heading out, but it still feels like it takes us forever to get out of the city. Houston is a sprawling, tangled mess of a city, and it feels like rush hour officially starts at 3pm. When we finally reach a two lane highway flanked by fields and trees, we breathe a collective sigh of relief. Conversation consists mostly of reminisces of previous trips, musings on the pros and cons of technology, and confusion over toll roads.

Evening: Hit some traffic coming into Austin, but ultimately escape unscathed. Eventually we pull onto the street where our air bnb is. My parents being my parents, we're staying in an airstream. (Why not?) The neighborhood feels strangely deserted. My dad meets us on the curb and leads us through a gate into our host's backyard. The airstream gleams in the evening light. It's cramped but comfortable. We drop our suitcases and immediately decide on Mexican food, at a place known for their avocado margaritas (Totally Austin Thing #1).



Dad fills us in on his seminar, and we all eat our weight in Mexican food. There are lots of Mexican restaurants in Houston, but there's something special about Tex-Mex in Austin. Maybe it's that taco trucks are everywhere here. Maybe it's the plethora of neon signage. Maybe it's that all the waiters have man-buns. Who knows? Whatever it is, it's delicious.

By the time we leave the restaurant, we are all beat. It takes a little bit of configuring to get the dining area of the airstream converted into a bed for me, but it all comes together. Lights out. I wake up frequently due to the noisy air conditioner, and have a weird dream involving time travel and a city like Las Vegas if Las Vegas was on a beach.

Day Two - Saturday

Morning: Here's something you should know about my family: We're morning people. We hate crowds to the point where if it means getting up at an ungodly hour to avoid them, we'll do it. This is how I end up being roused from a restless sleep at 6am to go swimming. Really, I did this to myself. Mom said that getting up at 7 would have been plenty early, but I insisted that earlier was best. So here we are.

We groggily get ready while trying not to run into each other, and finally make it to the car with towels and non-pool clothes in tow. We are headed to Barton Springs.


Barton Springs is a spring-fed swimming pool. It looks more like a lake than a swimming pool, with limestone sides and a natural rock bottom that is covered in algae. The water coming up from the ground is a chilly 68 degrees, which may not sound that bad, but on an 80 degree morning it feels like swimming in glacier run-off. We discover to our delight that it's free to swim before 8am. Because of this, the pool is moderately crowded, but it's the early morning crowd, which is the best kind. The demographic is mostly dedicated (crazy) lap swimmers, and people like us, who are content to wade around and enjoy the sunrise.

Despite the cold, the whole endeavor feels luxurious. How often do you get to float around in crystal clear water before the rest of the (not crazy) world wakes up? It feels like we've stumbled across some big secret. A snowy egret lands near us and goes about its business, not seeming to care about the swimmers. I overhear one of the swimmers talking about his daughter, presumably in college, and how proud he is of her for "not trying to be the best, you know?" (Totally Austin Thing #2).

When the water finally gets to us, we get out and warm up by the side of the pool. It's not even 8am, and we already feel rejuvenated. Onward and upward.

Our next stop is obviously food and coffee. In true Mills fashion, we just drive around until Mom spots a tiny hole-in-the-wall diner. It looks busy, but not horribly so (always a good sign), so we go inside. We were expecting a greasy eggs and soggy hash browns kind of place, but instead we get a restaurant with items like "bacon-infused collard greens" and "soyrizo" (veggie sausage) on the menu, with local, farm-fresh eggs. (Totally Austin Thing #3).

By the time we're done with breakfast it is finally mid-morning, and it's time to do something we have been meaning to do for years. My grandfather requested that his ashes be scattered at the same lake that my grandmother's were, which happens to be in Austin. It takes lots of driving through the hills around the city to find the correct spot. Finally we find a secluded spot to say goodbye, but not before witnessing one of the sweetest dog/human interactions I've ever seen. There is a guy standing waste deep in the water with his very old golden retriever. The dog seems content to just be in the water, near his favorite person, but occasionally the guy will gently hold the dog up so that he can swim a little bit. The guy is so patient and the dog is so mellow and content, and it honestly made me want to cry. (Totally Austin Thing #4).


Afternoon: We eat lunch at a place called Pool Burger, so named because it's adjacent to Austin's other spring-fed pool: Deep Eddy. Pool Burger feels like a little slice of Hawaii. The bar has a thatched roof. The kitchen is in an airstream trailer. Inside, the stools are made of bamboo and there are vintage surf posters on the walls. All the bartenders wear Hawaiian shirts. I order a mojito because I'm feeling extra vacation-y. It's possibly the best mojito I've ever had. I don't know if it's because only sometimes like mojitos, or I've only ever had ones that were sub-par. Maybe it's just really good rum. The burgers are delicious, too, but we eat them so fast I hardly notice.

Next we make an obligatory, almost compulsory stop at Book People. It's just a fact that I can't go to another city without visiting at least one bookstore. This time I'm seeing it with slightly different eyes because I work at one. I'm happy to see one of my favorite books, Gold Fame Citrus, on a display of "CliFi", a term I'd never heard before that stands for Climate Sci Fi, or science fiction about climate change. Because so many books cross my desk every day, I'm mostly just looking for titles I don't recognize. There's not a lot I haven't at least seen the covers of, and it's a strange feeling. For a slow reader like me, working at a bookstore can be overwhelming. Visiting Book People makes me thankful I work in a pretty small store - I'd be really overwhelmed in a store that's got two floors worth of books.

By this point it's almost 3pm and we are all exhausted. We head back to the airstream and sleep for the rest of the afternoon. Luxurious, right?

Evening: When we finally roust ourselves from our collective nap, it's almost 7pm. We decide to eat at Lucy's Fried Chicken, a place I have weirdly distinct memories of. I was probably around 9 or 10, and there happened to be an open-mic night going on the back patio while we were there. By this point I was well into my dream of becoming a writer, meaning it was what I told everyone when they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I forget exactly how it came about, but  someone at a neighboring table ended up giving me a little spiral notebook. They told me to write something. Looking back, it's kind of amazing that it even happened: that we happened to be there that night, that the people next to us (or maybe the restaurant staff - the memory is fuzzy now) had a notebook to spare. Anyway, I did write something. A tiny poem, something about cigarette smoke and mountains. It took a lot of encouragement, but somehow my parents convinced me to volunteer to read. I didn't even read the poem myself - my mom did while I stood on stage next to her, but I think it still counts as one of my first public readings.

Now, the patio of Lucy's Fried Chicken looks completely different. There are no events being held, and we eat inside to get out of the heat. We still spend the time creatively though: Mom and I crack open a box of colored pencils. I sketch the restaurant while she draws a picture of the airstream we're staying in to tape into the guestbook when we leave. I forgot how much I liked drawing in public - it makes me really notice things I would have completely ignored otherwise. I briefly consider carrying a sketchbook from now on, but decide I carry around too many notebooks already.

By the time we are done eating boatloads of fried chicken and finishing our drawings, it is almost 9pm. After that it's back to the airstream and back to sleep. I sleep straight through the night and don't remember my dreams when I wake up.



Day Three - Sunday

Morning: The previous day we had decided to make the most of our time in Austin and go swimming at Barton Springs again. Day two is definitely harder to wake up for. At 6:15 my dad asks if I still want to go swimming and I groggily say yes even though I'm not sure I do. Somewhere in my sleep-added mind I know it will be worth it, but my body needs some time to catch up. Mom is already cheerfully in the car by the time I stumble into clothes and grab my swimsuit.

Barton Springs is just as wonderful as it was the first time, and the cold water definitely wakes me up. The cold doesn't bother me as much as it did the day before, and I end up staying in longer than both of my parents. On this morning there are people doing back flips off the diving board, a German couple shivering in the shallows, and several swimming instructors giving lessons. I watch one of them, a wiry older woman in a wetsuit, teaching someone breathing techniques. It's obvious she isn't coaching a professional, just teaching someone how to swim recreationally, as a skill they should have. I briefly think that swimming instructor would be a nice career- getting to spend time in water, getting to teach people a skill that is not necessarily useless, but definitely under appreciated (at least at the recreational level). It's a moment I have quite often, a curiosity about other people's lives, how they spend their time. I like seeing people doing work that is completely alien to me, and wondering if they are fulfilled by it. I wonder what this elegant woman would be doing if she wasn't a swimming instructor. I imagine her in a dance studio, or a museum. Maybe teaching people to swim is her second or third career. Maybe she's mostly retired. If I follow this train of thought too far, I end up back at myself, at what I'm doing with my own life. Stringing words together, one after the other.

After our swim we head off in search of breakfast. We pick The Magnolia Cafe , which is somewhat of an institution in Austin. It's still early (and I'm still chilled from the pool) so we choose to eat on the patio, which turns out to be perfect: lots of shade and dappled sunlight. I order eggs benedict with sausage and spicy hollandaise. By the time we leave the restaurant there's a line out the door and all the tables inside are full. There are definitely perks to being an early riser.

We spend some time at the airstream packing up and cleaning. Mom braids my hair while I write a thank you note in the guest book of our airstream. I flip through the previous entries for inspiration and learn that someone from Italy once stayed here. I wonder how they ended up in Austin, and what they thought of it. Italy and its culture seems worlds away from the middle of Texas.

Next I want to visit the Modcloth store, because I keep seeing pictures of it on instagram, and I like the idea of experiencing it in person. Upon entering, we learn that it's a "fit shop," meaning that you can try on the item in your size but instead of taking it home, they order it for you and it gets shipped to your door. The whole concept seems strange to me, almost hollow. What's the point of having a beautiful space where you can touch the things you'd normally only see online, only to leave empty handed?

After that we wander into a few more shops, and I finally stumble across a pair of sunglasses I like. I recently lost a pair of my favorite sunglasses (they were green!), and I'd been pining for them almost the whole trip. It just doesn't feel like a vacation without them (not to mention it's bright outside). These have slightly purple lenses with gold accents, and they feel chic and different from what I normally wear. I don't think you can buy happiness, but it is amazing how a single purchase can instantly make your day better. I don't know what it is, but new sunglasses are one of those things. Books and haircuts fall into this category, too.


Afternoon: Armed with my new sunglasses, it's finally time to take on South Congress. It's hot, the middle of the day now, and our progress is slow.

Because it would probably be boring for me to narrate entering and leaving every store we stopped in, here they are in list format for easy reading (Honestly, if you've made it this far, I'm impressed):

Warby Parker: So my glasses-wearing parents can try on some different frames. I try some on, too, and consider what I would look like if I wore glasses. Am mildly afraid that I will find some I really like and be disappointed that I don't wear glasses. Kind of a silly worry, when I type it out now. All of the employees are wearing glasses, and I wonder if it's a requirement to wear frames, wether they need them or not.

 Madewell: A store that is basically my style in a nutshell, but I can't afford anything. In fact, I've been inside often but I don't think I own anything from there at all. Pine after red and white floral tank top with beautiful covered buttons.

Service: Menswear store that we go into mostly for my dad's benefit. To our delight he ends up buying something! Mom and I have too much fun joking about weird menswear styles and commenting on the decor. I'm surprised by all the florals.

Manana: A beautiful coffee shop we step into to cool off and refuel. The iced coffee glasses are a sort-of pointy hourglass shape (there's a word for it, I know there is) that helps distribute the cream evenly when you pour it in (Totally Austin Thing #5). It has floor to ceiling windows on both ends and lots of mirrors. If I lived in Austin, I'd probably come here all the time to write and get nothing done because I'd be too busy people watching and staring out the window.

Tesoro's Trading Co: An eclectic, beautiful store that reminds me of Henley Market in Galveston. I buy a gorgeous skirt that is made out of sari fabric. You're supposed to be able to wear it about 12 different ways, and I can't wait to experiment with it! Everything in this place is embroidered or hand carved or interesting in some other way. The textures and variety are kind of overwhelming. I love it.

Our last meal is from Bouldin Creek Cafe, a vegetarian restaurant. I'm not usually into vegetarian food (I like fried chicken too much), but I'm so hungry it doesn't matter. (Also, this place has really good food) I order their veggie burger on sourdough bread with garlic aioli. It's amazing and so filling and I eat almost the whole thing.

Evening: At this point, I'm officially exhausted, and it's time to make the long trek home. I attempt to sleep some in the car so that I can be awake enough to drive later. At the halfway point we stop at a gas station and I get an Arizona Iced Tea, my go-to road trip beverage. I haven't had one in such a long time, and maybe it's silly, but it just reinforces how great this weekend has been. I've gotten to do basically everything I think vacations should be: getting up early (if there's a good reason to), eating fantastic food, discovering new places, people watching, daydreaming, afternoon naps, bookstore browsing, and collecting the odd souvenir. It was just a couple of days and it felt like a week.

I wanted to write this post, not just because I want to remember this trip, but also because it felt like it filled something that was missing since I graduated college. I've been adjusting to the working world pretty well, but travel feels more difficult when you don't have the designated breaks that school provides. If anything, this weekend proves that you don't need lots of time or exotic locations to get away. The best travel is travel that you go into open minded. It's easy-going and relaxed, with not too much pressure to stick to an itinerary. If it seems like we did a lot, well, we did, but we did it moment to moment, and it was dictated by our moods (and our hunger levels) rather than a schedule. I want to do more trips like this in the future, to discover new/old places with new/old friends.

Today is Monday, the start of a new week, but I want to keep living on vacation time. I want to get up early and sip my coffee slowly. I want to keep buying the little things that make me happy, and keep imagining myself in other lives. Vacation time doesn't have to exist only on vacation. With a little imagination and little effort, it can be most of the time. Sometimes it just helps to get away a little in order to see home with new eyes.