Texas Toast

Jun. 6th, 2024 10:11 am

Eighteen months in Austin. Here’s a monologue about what I expected, or more properly the numerous things that surprised me, as a lifelong New Englander. If you’re curious, read on…

The Climate:

We knew Texas would be hot; it’s supposed to be hot. Guess what? It was hot. In fact, 2023 was Austin’s hottest summer ever recorded, and the driest year since 1910. In fact, it was hot enough that a friends’ house caught fire when empty wine bottles in his outdoor recycling bin spontaneously combusted!

View of downtown Austin from Town Lake

But ya know what? We handled the heat. In fact, we handled it better than most Austinites, who surprised us with how much they complained about it. Granted, we do cherish our air conditioner, but even outdoors the lower humidity usually made the heat feel a lot less oppressive than we expected. It surprised us when Inna, a lifelong hater of hot weather and bright sunshine, caught herself complaining about a rare string of overcast days.

Still, when summer provides eighty days above 100°F, it changes how you look at things. The reggae song “96 Degrees in the Shade” by Third World doesn’t really justify its lyrical description of “real hot” anymore. It brings a wry smile when the Heat Miser – the main antagonist in the holiday special “The Year Without a Santa Claus” – sings “I’m Mister Hundred-and-One”. Pfft! Call me when it reaches 108°, dude.

With warm air baking the ground around our shallowly-buried water pipes, we had the novel experience of 94°F water coming out of our cold water tap, often warmer than what we got from the hot tap, where some water sitting in our indoor pipes got cooled by our air conditioning! And thanks to South Central Texas’ extreme drought, our tap water often tasted like moldy water from the bottom of a pond.

Another thing we had to get used to was that our two-story apartment has significantly different climate zones. Due to its open plan, the upper story is far warmer than the ground floor, both in winter and in summer. This has actually worked out for us, where my work space is upstairs and Inna’s is downstairs.

Another surprise was that even though it doesn’t often get very cold, the days’ length still shortens noticeably in the winter. Granted, Austin’s 10¼ hours of winter daylight is still 90 minutes more than I got growing up in Maine; but it’s still dark enough to discourage one from going out after 6pm in the winter.

That brought Inna some cognitive dissonance. She’s used to going out and being most social during the summer because that’s when the days are longest and the temperature is most comfortable in Pittsburgh. But in Austin, you have to choose comfort or daylight: either you socialize in the summer when the days are long but it’s too hot to be outside; or you force yourself to go out in the winter when temperatures are comfortable but it gets dark early.

And heat and drought aren’t the only dramatic weather we’ve experienced. A month after we moved in, Austin was crippled (and we lost both a huge tree and our water lines) in a destructive ice storm (writeup & pix). There are frequent thunderstorms which can be both intense and immense, and we recently had a two-day power outage after a storm fried two transformers on our street. The worst storms can bring sudden hail, and there’s nothing like being bombarded by grapefruit-sized chunks of ice falling at 180 km/h to get your attention (and that of your auto and home insurance adjusters)!

Nature:

Moving south, what did I fear most? Bugs! I expected all manner of nasty, poisonous, invasive critters. And yeah, we got a few, but there weren’t all that many, and they mostly stayed out of our house.

When we arrived, our space was home to a handful of ladybugs, but they were quickly removed and never returned. Yeah, we had to deal with a couple small German and large American roaches that found their way indoors, but they were a rare shock.

But one day we discovered one small scorpion in a ceiling light fixture – the first any of us had ever seen in our lives – which sent the entire household into a panicked killing frenzy. That underscored a Texas rule that we hadn’t been aware of: always check your shoes before you stick your feet into them!

There’s been ample wildlife in our yard, which backs up to a wooded creek. We’re plagued by an absolutely fearless herd of deer that own the area. And summer was an uninterrupted eight-month cacophony of cicadas. The fireflies were so numerous in spring that a neighbor called out the electrical company, thinking he was seeing arcing power lines!

We’ve had green anoles, hummingbirds, a ton of cardinals, and nesting hawks. On rare occasions we’ve seen garter snakes, armadillos, and even a coyote. Farther afield, on the bike I ran into actual vultures and real-life roadrunners!

Another completely unexpected delight were the flowers, which were profusely strewn everywhere. Spring is heralded by vivid bluebonnets and red Texas indian paintbrush that are seemingly everywhere. Crepe myrtle trees decorate the streets a little later. And brilliant fiery red and orange Pride-of-Barbados bushes bloom for most of the year. There were also flowers that didn’t open until October and November’s “second spring”. And after a hard freeze, our backyard frostweed plants were decorated with shockingly elaborate ice sculptures around their bases. It really was an amazing, year-long, colorful show; tho I’ll always miss New England’s lilacs and lily of the valley.

Government & Politics:

Speaking of New England, I grew up in Maine, so I’m used to being an urban liberal within an area where the countryside is dominated by conservatives. And I most recently lived in Pittsburgh, another progressive enclave surrounded by the election deniers who led the 2021 insurrection against the United States of America. I expected more of the same from Texas, and it mostly delivered, being about as full of rednecks as Western Pennsyltucky once you venture outside the city.

But it also surprised me in some shocking and disturbing new ways. I’ve never lived in a city that was so openly besieged as Austin is. The arch-conservative state legislature and governor make no attempt to hide their pervasive attempts to make the state’s liberal cities fail – and Austin in particular – in any way they can. This includes sending in state troopers (essentially military shock troops) to terrorize (“police”) the population.

They can do this because Austin’s police force has essentially abdicated its responsibility to ensure law and order. Like most places, Texas’ police officers are right-leaning, and would like to see Austin fall into chaos to prove that progressive ideas inevitably lead to social disorder. So after the violence of the Black Lives Matter protests, when there were calls to de-fund the police, many of them left the force, leaving it chronically understaffed, or stayed on but simply stopped doing their jobs… even though the Austin PD’s budget was never reduced, and has actually grown significantly.

Augment their quiet-quitting with an understaffed and underpaid 911 system, where emergency callers might wait on hold for 45 minutes before their call is even answered. Think about how this situation – continued over years and decades – plays into the hands of thieves, gangs, violent criminals, drug addicts and dealers, and everyday self-important egomaniacs unwilling to check their selfish impulses. Then you begin to understand the degree of lawlessness and sense of vulnerability that one has to endure living here.

It was an interesting coincidence that a thief ditched a car on our street and sped off on foot through our yard on the very day we moved in. And then there’s the need to make an appointment three to six months in advance to get anything done at the DMV. The state of Texas is fatally broken in several ways.

I wasn’t wrong to expect rednecks in Texas, but what really surprised me was the level of barefaced organized warfare against the state’s largest communities and their citizens. The resulting undercurrent of unsafety is by far the biggest negative we’ve experienced as part of our move. It’s profoundly scary.

Social:

Finally, just a few random observations about how things work down here.

I expected life in Austin to be way more dependent on motor vehicle travel than Boston or even Pittsburgh. That proved out. On the other hand, our house is in a great location: less than a klick to a major highway, but at the end of a small dead-end street that’s buried in a quiet, wooded valley. It’s really quite delightful. While it’s not required in our hilly northwestern suburb, much of the city needs to actively water the clay around foundations of their homes to keep them from moving and cracking!

I expected there to be more stuff going on in Austin than in Pittsburgh, and that’s been a mixed bag. There’s a lot of collegiate-level partying and drugs and soulless entrepreneurial ventures, but much less art and cultural stuff than we expected. Tho to be fair, Pittsburgh did very well with that for a small city, given its philanthropic heritage.

One surprising way that Austin is like Boston is that – although people are quite friendly – deep friendships are hard to form and usually quite casual and transient. Because there’s lots to do, people are usually already busy and booked up with their own stuff, and don’t respond well to ad hoc get-togethers. Because it’s a boom town with college students and young professionals constantly moving in and out, it discourages making permanent connections. So there are definitely challenges on the social front.

And every so often we have a little food dissonance. Sometimes it’s just that Thai restaurants here serve curries containing just meat… no veggies! Or perhaps it’s the Bumble Bee Jalapeño-Seasoned Tuna? Or the Heinz Jalapeño Ketchup?

Overall:

After reviewing dozens of possible landing spots, it was obvious that no city would be perfect. And once we settled on Austin, Inna and I knew there’d be some major trade-offs required. Some of our fears were legit, and some of the drawbacks make life here extremely challenging.

But we made our commitment and followed through, and so far, we have both been very happy here. Over the past eighteen months, Austin has fulfilled our needs, provided an exotic new adventure, and become the background for this new chapter of our lives. And we continue to learn new things about life here every day.

Now that I’m 18 months removed from it, I’d like to reflect on my seven years in Pittsburgh.

Let me apologize in advance; this’ll be more negative than positive, because I want to talk about why I left. My intention isn’t to shit on anyone’s chosen hometown. There really is a lot to like about Pittsburgh and Western PA, many good reasons to live there, and lots of genuinely awesome people. But I also want to be forthright about why I was eager to leave.

View of downtown Pittsburgh from Grandview Ave

By far the biggest reason actually had nothing to do with Pittsburgh itself; it’s just that I never intended to stay. When I left Boston in 2015, my #1 desire was to finally move somewhere warm, after enduring 50+ New England winters. Pittsburgh’s weather wasn’t much of an improvement, so I always knew Pittsburgh was a temporary stop on my way to something else. Even before I arrived, moving away was a foregone conclusion, though it did become more urgent as the years ticked by and my patience ebbed.

Before I moved to Pittsburgh, my impressions of Western PA were informed by two or three trips to the SCA’s Pennsic War, one DargonZine Summit, several trips to visit Inna, plus some trips to do database work with the local hospitals. Based on that, my pre-move image of Pennsylvania was of beautifully scenic wooded rolling hills and farmland, with Pittsburgh as a leading center of medical excellence.

After living there for seven years, I left with a very different impression: that of an exploited and poisoned environment, with more openly mean-spirited people than I was used to.

But let’s start with what I thought were some of Pittsburgh’s best features:

  • The countryside really is strikingly beautiful, when seen from a safe distance.
  • Pittsburgh has a compact, attractive downtown with a beautiful skyline that’s shown off well from its dramatic gateway entrance and numerous surrounding hilltop overlooks.
  • There’s lots of noteworthy architecture and cultural institutions, thanks largely to the philanthropic legacy of Pittsburgh’s oil, steel, and industrial magnates.
  • There is an easily-accessible and uncrowded casino whose state-stipulated blackjack rules are more advantageous for the player than nearly anywhere else.
  • The airport pipes in music from local classical radio station WQED.

Yes, citing a casino and crowd control music as top features is an instance of damning with faint praise, and I have a lot more negative things to say. But before I dig into those, I’d like to mention a few things about Pittsburgh that were both good… and bad. Let me show you what I mean:

  • Land and housing are extremely affordable. That would be delightful, except it’s due to the fact that Pittsburgh’s population has not grown in any 10-year census period since 1950, shrinking by 55% in that span, leaving a lot of underutilized, vacant, and/or abandoned properties.
  • The winters are slightly better than Boston, with considerably less cold and snow than Maine. Being further south, winter days have more daylight hours, and should have more sunshine and less oppressive darkness. But you actually see less sun during the winter. Although thankfully not inside the Great Lakes snow belt, Pittsburgh is close enough that there’s perpetual overcast skies and sporadic light flurries all winter long, and that lack of sun can be just as depressing as the shortened days up in Maine.
  • Pittsburgh’s airport is spacious and quick to get through… But that’s because it was built as a major USAir hub just before that airline’s insolvency. Today PIT handles a minuscule fraction of the volume it was designed for. You can’t escape the cognitive dissonance when the loudspeakers proudly announce “Welcome to Pittsburgh!” and it echoes down the vast corridors of an empty airport.
  • Pittsburgh is arguably the hilliest city in the US. As a cyclist, the upsides are intense physical workouts and memorable events like the infamous Dirty Dozen hillclimb; while the downside is a dearth of calm, relaxing routes, because all the flat land has been claimed by highways, railroads, warehouses, and industry. And if you’re a driver, those hills can be treacherous in winter.
  • There’s a very friendly cycling community and loads of interesting cycling events. On the other hand, it can be difficult to get around on a bike, as there aren’t many good options heading east or south or west of the city.

And now we get to the heart of the matter: the things about Pittsburgh that turned me off. I tried to whittle this down to major points while still making myself clear.

It’s dirty.

To be fair, there’s been a ton of progress in the 150 years since Atlantic Monthly described Pittsburgh at the height of its industrial output as “hell with the lid taken off.” But a lot of damage done to the land, water, and air by the coal, oil, gas, iron, and steel industries still remains. Western PA is the only area outside California that consistently receives all ‘F’ grades in the American Lung Association’s air quality reports, and often records the worst air quality in the US. Even today, the culture of fouling the environment still lingers, as can be seen in the preponderance of roadside litter and illegal garbage dumping. Having grown up in the Maine woods, the lack of respect for the natural environment disturbed me.

It’s blighted.

I’ve already mentioned the population decline and abundance of abandoned and condemned buildings, so I won’t belabor it, save to say that the amount of urban decay and blight is off-putting. I’m sure it didn’t help that Pittsburgh was in receivership for 14 years (from 2004-2018), despite residents paying an extra 1.5% city income tax!

Collapsing infrastructure.

Pittsburgh has some unique challenges that other cities don’t. The steep topography means that parts of the city get flash floods (Washington Blvd, Mon Wharf, the Bathtub, Millvale, Glass Run). And there are seasonal landslides that can close roads for months (Greenleaf, Commercial, Pittview, Route 30). But then there’s also numerous avoidable, man-made infrastructure failures. For example, during my brief years in Pittburgh:

  • The Fern Hollow Bridge carrying Forbes Ave over Frick Park collapsed.
  • Concrete slabs from the Swindell Bridge fell onto the Parkway North, forcing closures on I-279.
  • More concrete fell from the Greenfield Bridge over the Parkway East (I-376) , so the state built a semipermanent “bridge” underneath the main bridge just to catch the falling debris.
  • Several building facades collapsed in the Southside, Lawrenceville, and the Strip, including Kraynick’s bike shop.
  • A Pittsburgh city transit bus was driving along Liberty Ave in the heart of downtown when a huge sinkhole opened up and swallowed it whole.
  • An entire parking deck collapsed in the Penn Hills.
  • Repeated train derailments in the South Side, Harmar, and a dramatic moving conflagration as a burning train rolled on obliviously for twenty miles through Freedom and Harmony, PA.

So much anger.

I don’t want to overemphasize this, because I made a lot of wonderful friendships in Pittsburgh. But in comparison to New England, many Western PA locals seemed eager to take opportunities to be rude or mean toward one another, while hiding behind the anonymity of the internet or ensconced in their self-propelled rolling fortresses. Pittsburgh has a lot of schadenfreude, which was unpleasant.

A culture of unlawfulness.

A lot of cities found themselves at odds with their own police forces following the Black Lives Matter protests and de-funding rumors, but Pittsburgh already had a head start. Speeding has historically never been enforced; in fact, it’s still illegal today for county and local law enforcement to use radar guns to enforce speed limits! In seven years living (and riding) there, I don’t think I ever saw a state trooper, and saw only one or two traffic stops by local police.

The Covid pandemic provided another disincentive to conduct minor traffic stops. And the police reacted hostilely to BLM and de-funding protests. Then both the city council and even bike advocates asked the cops to stop traffic enforcement! All this made it much more dangerous to be a pedestrian, cyclist, or motor vehicle operator in Pittsburgh. Tho sadly, I now realize this is a much broader problem than just Western PA.

Monopolies in healthcare and groceries.

Healthcare in Pittsburgh is dominated by UPMC. Because it’s loosely affiliated with the University of Pittsburgh, this immense hospital chain does everything it can to take full advantage of its categorization as a non-profit. No one I talked to had a positive experience with them, whether as a patient or an employee.

Pittsburgh also suffers from a near-monopoly in grocery stores. You would think that when I lived in downtown Boston’s tony Back Bay, my groceries would have been extremely costly; but my food bill actually jumped 25% higher after I moved to Pittsburgh.

Misplaced regional pride.

I get it: every place needs to have a sense of regional pride. But it’s kind of lame that the “Paris of Appalachia” bases its sense of identity on things that are ubiquitous throughout urban America, such as putting a chair out to reserve a parking space, or trying to jump the green when turning left at a traffic light. Or rabid loyalty to a company like Heinz, which left Pittsburgh 20 years ago. Or mindlessly hating all the other cities in the region (Philadelphia, Cleveland, Buffalo, Detroit). Sure, take pride in your city, but make some effort to identify the things that genuinely make Pittsburgh special; the “Pittsburgh Left” ain’t it.

The food.

I just don’t know how Pittsburgh gained its reputation as a city for foodies.

Let’s consider the foods Pittsburghers take pride in: Beer. Ketchup. Pickles. Lenten fish frys. Pierogies. And sticking french fries into literally everything. None of these qualify as “cuisine”. If I were a Pittsburgher, I’d be ashamed.

And while I’m admittedly a culinary philistine myself, I didn’t find any places that impressed me in my preferred food zones, like burgers, Indian, and Mexican food. Thai was a wasteland except for Thai & Noodle Outlet. Pizza wasn’t “all that” but Aiello’s was tolerable… tho they (and their arch-rival Mineo’s) still refuse to deliver and require payment in cash. And the best Pittsburgh could offer for ice cream was Bruster’s (no, don’t talk to me about Page’s or Dave and Andy’s).

Toxic redneck culture.

I grew up among rednecks. A lot of my family were rednecks. Almost everywhere I’ve lived, there have been a lot of rednecks. And outside of Pittsburgh’s city limits, Western PA is infested with rednecks.

I just don’t fit into – or get along well with – that culture anymore. The rabid devotion to the local sportball teams (The Stillers, The Pens). The preoccupation with beer and alcohol. The gun fetish (open and concealed carry are both legal). The mindless nationalism. The constant othering and barefaced xenophobia. The utter absence of compassion or open-mindedness.

Several Western-PA wing-nuts played leading roles in the 2021 Trump-inspired attempt to overthrow the United States government. And in 2018, less than a mile from our apartment, the deadliest massacre of Jews in United States history took place. I hope I don’t need to tell you how offensive those are.

In closing:

Pittsburgh was a city of contradictions and trade-offs. Western PA was beautiful, if you looked past the pollution and decay. The cycling was great, but also quite challenging. It was inexpensive (housing), except where it wasn’t (groceries). I met plenty of wonderful people (undoubtedly including the Pittsburghers who are reading this), and about as many that were truly hateful.

Although the winters, as the natives say, “weren’t all that”, it was a fine place to spend a half-dozen years. I have a lot of very fond memories of Pittsburgh. Those include the many valued friends I made; the heart-warming meditation communities that welcomed me and nurtured my growth as a teacher; plus the people and landscapes and rides that I enjoyed while cycling. These will stay with me forever.

But from the very beginning, I always planned to move farther south, beyond the clutches of the Snow Miser. And as the years passed, I needed to move on to a warmer, sunnier place.

It goes without saying that Austin, our new home, came with its own set of pleasures and challenges… But that’s a story for another post.

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