Austin associations

Let's do some word association. I'm going to write a word and you are going to pay attention to all the images that come into your mind when you read it.

Are you comfy? Free of distractions? Now empty your mind, more or less, because we're about to begin...

The Deep South.

The Lone Star State.

Texas.

Austin.

Now, you may have had perhaps very similar thoughts about the first three words, and then your thinking shifted when Austin's name popped up. Because you know Austin is different. You know this because you've been told or because you've been here or because you know people (like me) who would never willingly live in a place associated with the images of the first three words.

But exactly how different IS Austin? For some of you (and I know because I've heard the doubt in your voice or seen the dubious expression on your face), the three words before Austin in our little game are still too strong to completely overpower the alternative images offered by this town. You might think, "Sure, Austin might be better for Texas, but it can't possibly compare with, say, Berkeley or Boston. I mean, really."

Let me assure you that it does. It really does, and I've been collecting evidence to prove it to you.

Evidence 1: Whole Foods in based here. The VERY FIRST Whole Foods in the whole world was in Austin and the flagship store sits like a beacon of pricey foodie goodness on its own city block. Unlike your local franchise, this Whole Foods features a bath salt bar, a jumbo body/cosmetic/clothing section, a trattoria, a gelato cafe, veritable acres of prepared foods, a waterfall, and a vine trestle in the middle of the store. I gawked and bought some bubble bath. Whether or not you like Whole Foods, you have to admit that it does boost the progressive/organic/green/foodie cred of the place.

Evidence 2: Brown rice eel rolls are available (and made fresh by request) at the local, non-fancy supermarket. I do not regularly shop at Whole Foods. Who can? But imagine my glee when I steered my cart through the local Safeway/Kroger/Food Lion/Lulus equivalent and discovered that a nondescript corner was dedicated to sushi making, with a dizzying array of raw, cooked and vegetarian options. (Seriously...I have never seen so many choices in one place.) When they were out of the eel rolls, I asked if they were planning to make more, and the guy whipped out his bamboo mat and rustled me up a fresh one. I even got to request extra sesame seeds. All for the low price of $4.59. I would challenge you to find similar sushi offerings anywhere in the country. And here they are at the HEB in Austin.

Evidence 3: Every single person in this town has a tattoo. OK, OK, my scientific and journalistically minded friends...not everyone. But practically everyone. I was sitting at a cafe once and identified a tattoo on every single person in the place at that time (about 15 people). And it wasn't some sort of wildly alternative coffeehouse. At yoga, I am usually the only tattoo-less person in the room where ages range from early 20s to early 60s. No joke! Now, tattoos don't automatically indicate a liberal lifestyle, but the tattoos in Austin do. They are whimsical and artistic, as advertised by the (no surprise) many tattoo parlors around town. The best one I've seen was sticking out of the knee-high boot of a very, very hip woman at a very, very hip restaurant where I ate with two former colleagues (we had no idea it would be so hip!). Right below the back of her kneecap was a detailed outline of a woman on a Vespa, her hair flowing in the breeze. Now that is cool--and unlikely to be found on the back kneecap of any conservative Republican or country bumpkin of your acquaintance.


Evidence 4: Food trucks. Much more on this in a separate post. But for right now, know that Austin is famous for its food trucks. You know, those UPS-sized vehicles or Airsteam trailers with a counter cut into the long side and the ability to prepare food inside. In other cities, food trucks are considered semi-sketch purveyors of tacos and burgers, as unfair as this assessment may be. They roll up to construction sites, abandoned parking lots and cheesy beach haunts. You know, anywhere there's not a Starbucks. In Austin, however, food trucks are a genre of cuisine all their own. Sure, lots serve yummy tacos, but others offer Korean BBQ, cupcakes, frozen bananas, fancy pizza, Czech potato pancakes, fresh bread, lattes, pad thai and Vietnamese pho. They are decorated fancifully, with fairy lights and neon signs. Far from a health inspector's nightmare, they are viewed as a welcome addition to the food scene. What makes food trucks a sign of rampant progressive ideals? Well, I'll use my former Abu Dhabi colleague, the RET as an example. R is for Republican, E is for evangelical and T is for Texan (but not Austin). When K and I landed in Abu Dhabi we had occasion to ask the RET for advice on which restaurants she'd recommend. We were very interested in her answer. And it never stopped being funny to recount it to each other over the years. She recommended Fuddrucker's. Now, there is nothing wrong with Fuddruckers and I don't want to sound like a total snob, even though I probably do. My point is that an American chain restaurant was the RET's idea of a good meal, and that's cool. However, this attitude toward food does not jibe with food trucks decorated like a Jackson Pollack painting serving vegan brownies. Just saying...

Now I realize three out of the four pieces of evidence provided have something to do with food. And it's interesting to note how food has come to represent a sort of socio-cultural/political divide, yet another code for "in my liberal tribe" or not. That is also perhaps a topic for another day. But the fact that this is the case only proves my point about Austin's coolness. Not Texas. Austin. Genuinely, truly Austin.