The first reason I became a suicide bomber was because my friend was killed. The second reason I did it is because I didn’t want to go to school. 
Hussam Abdo, a Palestinian teenager who tried to blow himself up at an Israeli checkpoint
Although decent Mexican restaurants can be found throughout Austin, I’m usually reluctant to explore new eateries. With Maria’s, Curra’s, Guero’s, and Changos so close, why bother? I was skeptical when Sarah recommended we try a fairly new place on Manor, El Chile. I need to remember that when it comes to all things culinary, Sarah is always right.
At first I didn’t realize that this is the former location of an old DIY-ish coffee space, Gabby & Mo’s. The building has been tastefully transformed and one doesn’t anticipate that it will someday be another failed business at a cursed address. Even before signing our name on the list, El Chile was proving to be worth the visit. Their sign and menu were attractively designed and suggested an attention to detail. The deck was full of smiling people. Sort of a hipster crowd, I guess. El Chile’s seating is divided equally between the front deck and interior. We sat inside and appreciated that it was totally full, although there just happened to be table for two in the back. The shades of purple, orange, and green worked nicely with the Mexican folk art and colorful paintings of things like roosters and Frida.
To some extent the menu offered the usual fare. We weren’t too adventurous–Sarah ordered mole enchiladas and I tried the same but with verde sauce. The obligatory chips and salsa hit the spot and we loved the dark chipotle salsa. It wasn’t too smoky either. The day’s stress soon disappeared as did my first margarita. Soon our aloof waiter arrived with two placas caliente. Damn. It looked and smelled so good. It wasn’t an obnoxious amount of food but I immediately knew I wouldn’t be hungry afterwards. For the next 10 minutes we didn’t talk much. This is always a good indication. The enchiladas were perfect: everything was fresh and the flour tortillas were not drowned in cheese. The beans and rice were great as well.
We spent about $33 for two dinners and three margaritas.
According to the marquee on the old South Congress porn theatre, Austin is just 230 miles from Mexico. Drivers heading toward downtown are given the mileage to Canada. I’m not sure about the purpose of the marquee’s mileage data, but it is though-provoking. I pass the sign all the time–usually when heading to HEB for groceries. The distance from Austin to Dallas is almost the same as from here to the International Bridge between Eagle Pass and Piedras Negras.
It’s incredible to me that a region so close, so easily within reach, is basically an unexplored, unknown place to me. I’ll think nothing of hopping on a plane to visit a city a thousand miles away, yet for some reason don’t consider the opportunity that exists here in Austin: after a short day’s drive, you can be in another country. Granted, there is obviously no equivalent of a Vancouver on the Northern Mexico border. But it is exciting and intriguing to think that there are people who have a completey different take on food, politics, media, government, religion, and so on–so close.
Speaking of Vancouver, an interesting research document (PDF) comparing the evolution of Canadian and US cities crossed the Congress for New Urbanism listserv today. Although the United States and Canada have relatively similar values, it seems to me that we’re heading down different paths in many areas. For example, because Vancouver and Toronto have not been shaped around cars and freeway to the extent of their US counterparts, in many ways they’re more aligned with major European cities. The paper sheds light on some facts about Canada that I was not aware of– such as its national ethos. In the US it’s “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.” In Canada, the national motto is “Peace, Order, and Good Government.” Another statistic: Americans are twice as likely to attend church and there are twice as many churches, according this paper, in the US (per capita) than in Canada. Also illuminating is the view of authority. Take the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, for example. “It is a national police force, an idea that would make Charlton Heston apoplectic. The RCMP provides local policing services for every municipality in the country excepting only a few of the largest.”
Back to reality. By the time we reached Portland it felt like we have been traveling for a month. Our itenerary may have been ambitious, but we were able to squeeze just about everything in without feeling too rushed. It was a wonderful vacation. First, San Francisco:
the blocks on Market Street, the pier area, Hubba, Union Square, and countless curbs and such that I’ve seen in videos but are basically nameless. But here’s the thing: I saw almost no skaters. I seriously saw more female skateboarders in Portland than I saw male skaters in San Francisco. Is skateboarding dying in SF? FTC has moved. It’s not on Schrader anymore–a Giant Robot store took it’s place. But it is just down the street, in the heart of the Haight madness (actually Haight is TAME compared to what I remember, which is a very good thing). Sarah said it was the best shop she had seen. Well-lit, wood floors, a real boutique. There was art and photos on the wall, such as a black-and-white of Stevie Williams snarling… Huf is a new shoe store in Nob Hill owned by, you guessed it, former pro Keith Hufnagel. Unfortunately we walked by after it had closed. Shortly after graduating from UK I remember daydreaming a lot about opening a shoe store. Huf was what my fantasy shop would have looked like. One thing is for sure: the kids are down with the retro Nikes. 
