midday at the Fiesta
Music: Mansun: Attack of the Grey Lantern; David Bowie: Hunky Dory After almost a week of mundane struggle, I've managed to establish myself in Austin. Aside from the toolbox that was stolen by the movers in Baton Rouge, it seems everything has arrived safely and intact, including Tara, my beloved mechanical fortuneteller. The cats are finished howling now that the furniture (and requisite, familiar smell) has arrived, and I've met a few neighbors. Marsha and Graham, a late 50-something couple across the street, seem pretty damn cool (they made jokes about prostitutes and gave me a key to their home). Graham works at the faculty club across the street from my office at UT, and Marsha at the hospital close by. "Miss Kay," the 86-year-old matriarch next door, brought me some bean soup and muffins in exchange for my phone number. I promised to make her Jambalaya and she grinned from ear to ear. Seems like a nice neighborhood.
Some issues: first, everyone will come to my back door instead of my front door because there is a locked gate at the front area. This was installed, apparently, because kids from the neighboring apartments and condos were cutting through the property to go to school (I'm two blocks from a high school in a Hispanic neighborhood). In other words, "brown colored" youth were cutting through the neatly manicured lawns and the white, HOA leadership didn't like it. What this means is that the HOA leadership is racist. I cannot wait until my first HOA meeting. I really would like to welcome my guests through the front door.
Second, my walls are fucking pink and the carpet is almost a powder blue. That will take some getting used to, and hopefully with all my tacky crap hung on the walls it will go away (or work in some delightful, unexpected way). The wallpaper in the foyer and front dining area is right out of a "tasteful" hotel, circa 1986, so I've decided to make that the media area with floor to ceiling shelving for my CDs and DVDs. My artsy side is coming out and I'm worried about the time-suck decorating this place "my style" will create; I really should be focusing on prepping for my first 250-student class. Nevertheless, the largest issue I'm facing with my "nest" is the previous owner's aesthetics, which reflects the kind of "tasteful" that says, "I want to appear that I have wealth and taste." Let's call this JC Penny Aesthetic. I am battling with overcoming the JC Penny Aesthetic with the Ikea or Target Aesthetic, with a smidgen of low-class tacky.
One thing that I really loved about the middle class aesthetic in Louisiana was the "yeah, I'm middle class and I don't pretend to be anything else" way of decorating. I mean, I lived in a neighborhood where people hung chicken feet above their front doors (voodoo good luck charm) and put pink flamingos in their front lawns. That so rocked! I miss that and have hope that one day I'll live in a place like that again (e.g., the Hyde Park or South Congress area of Austin).
Anyhoot! I've been living for a week without refrigeration; I purchased a el-cheapo fridge (not so cheap with Texas sales tax!) at Sears and it was delivered this morning. Afterwards, I ventured out to get groceries, as I've been craving salad and green peppers, two staples in my daily diet. I decided to hit the "Fiesta Mart," because it's local and I was told had lots of Hispanic, Indian, and Asian foodstuffs. This store was so culture shock! I walked in the door and there was a one man mariachi band (dude behind a series of synths), who had guests dancing in the produce area! I'm serious. Folks were jamming out to Mexican folk tunes next to the melons. The store was mobbed full of folks, so much so that navigating a buggy seemed pointless. I decided instead to wander around and check out all the stuff in there, much of which was for Mexican households. I found fascinating cans of things I've never heard of (tubers of all sorts, beans, etc.). I need to get a Tex-Mex cookbook to try out this new cultural cuisine . . . .
After 30 minutes of exploration in the Fiesta Mart, I was overwhelmed with "crowd," so I left (I was tempted to buy a t-shirt of the Virgin of Guadalupe that had flames coming out of her, though). I headed across I-35 to the "H-E-B," basically, the "white" grocery store, where I was able to navigate a buggy and pick up a few needed refrigerables. I was amused by the other shoppers—most of whom looked like me, 30 something white people struggling to remain "cool" and not become something like the people whom my condo complex was created for. I'm cautiously optimistic.