Every time one of my nieces and nephews turns 16, he or she spends a week with me; so, Maya’s turn was up this summer. I asked her parents to fly her out around the Fourth of July since I’d automatically have Friday off. Maya arrived midday on a Tuesday and left way too early in the morning the following Tuesday. In between time, we had as much fun as we could squeeze in.
On the day she arrived, I’d planned to take her to a poetry slam and treat her to the Greek food trailer just outside the theatre since she’d not tried much Greek food, other than hummus and pita bread. Also, I wanted her to taste a little of the Austin food trailer culture. The first glitch in the plan kicked in when I saw a tight knit of outdoor tables and chairs where the trailer used to be. When we walked into the nearby restaurant, which had collaborated with the Greek food trailer, the bartender informed us that they’d moved a week or two ago.
We ended up walking to a nearby Tex-Mex restaurant and sharing two entrees. Even with the wait for a table and a newbie server (only the second black male server I’ve had in 6 years of living in Austin!), we made it to the poetry slam on time. Yet, this particular slam was a special event: Team Slam Poetry. I’d never witnessed this before and Maya had never heard of this genre of poetry. We were both in for a treat.
The next glitch arose once we entered the theatre. Not an empty seat to be found. Plus, there were buckets and rags arranged in strategic spots on the floor to capture the leaking water. Not daring to stand the whole time, I returned to the car to retrieve two lawn chairs. We set the chairs in an “empty” spot in the middle of the audience in front of the stage. The only reason no one was sitting there was the leaks. Yet, Maya and I helped prove that black people aren’t made of sugar after all. Besides, the dripping lessened as the show unfolded. The sheer entertainment value of the event distracted us from being dripped on.
For her first full day, we drove out to Mt. Bonnell, the highest point in Austin at a mere 785 feet, in the morning before the heat turned up.
The cloud play enveloped Austin in a mythical haze.
Thanks to the continued intermittent heavy rains, the verdant foliage framed the voluminous water beautifully.
At the end of our hike, we came across the trailhead sign. By approaching the hike from the end, we actually got a little more of an adventure than we would have by using the stairs.
Yet those stairs were the stuff that inspired step aerobics and stair masters!
Our heart beat out of our chest and sweat poured walking up and down those stairs–unlike any other part of walking along the trail.
After working up such an appetite, we had lunch at one of my favorite barbecue places. I let our server know that Maya was an out-of-towner and she got the full welcome, including a sampling of the most popular items.
I’d texted her mother some pictures of our hike, thinking that we’d be spared the “Mommy call,” but once I’d texted her a picture of Maya biting into an extra moist brisket sandwich, she couldn’t resist calling!
After stuffing ourselves with brisket, creamed corn and banana pudding, the latter my niece actually thought would be as good as Nana’s (my mother’s), we strolled around Zilker Park.
Next morning, I transformed the leftover bread from Rudy’s into French toast, which I garnished with blueberries, strawberries and red apple slices.
Maya didn’t want a side of brisket like me–she’s still got a lot to learn!
On Friday “we” went swimming. (Read: I swam a mile while she sat poolside reading a book except for a brief moment of treading water with me in the deep end.)
Then we regrouped, binge-watched “Scandal” until it was time to see “Magic Mike XXL,” the perfect aunt-niece movie! I texted her mother this picture just before we both turned off our phones. Although the audience was allowed to be “rowdy” during the stripping scenes, I was one of the few hooting and hollering. Just goes to show how that theatre had done a terrific job with its “no talking or texting or you’ll be kicked out” policy.
Proving once again that selfies are overrated, we slowly baked in the Saturday morning sun, attempting to get this shot. At least she looks good. I’d never visited the LBJ library before. Fourth of July was one of its free admission days. I expected huge crowds, but we were the early birds around noontime.
I didn’t realize the temporary exhibit would be The Beatles. This display showed a typical teenage girl’s bedroom, circa 1964.
Against her better judgment, Maya humored me for an Abbey Road pose.
She gladly humored me, sitting in the front of the bus, for a desegregation pose in another part of the LBJ museum. Among all of his accomplishments, LBJ signed the Civil Rights Act of 1964. Seeing the artifacts and reading this part of history made me proud of how far we’ve come in our 150 years of emancipation and 239 years of liberty.
I’m not into cars, but this classic limo was an exception, especially at this angle, showing the gift shop visitors must pass through in order to leave the museum. Ever since I read The Design of Everyday Things, I no longer have a blind eye to such detail.
I’d debated taking Maya to a nearby park to watch fireworks, but we went to a poetry potluck instead, which featured artists who were veterans. For the first time ever, I heard the Declaration of Independence read aloud in its entirety. This was Maya’s first time hearing me read one of my pieces live. At least we saw some fireworks on the drive back home–some dangerously close to the street, prompting us to roll up our windows.
On Sunday, Maya survived her first bikram yoga class. She’d done all the postures with me before, but never in the actual setting. We brunched at TNT afterwards, then headed down to S. Congress Street.
I showed Maya her namesake store.
I asked one of the saleswomen if there were discounts for girls named “Maya,” which was apparently a common question. (The answer’s no.)
Later that night, I took Maya to her third poetry event. This was a pure open mic, which is always an interesting mixed bag of tricks, bombs and jewels throughout the night. The biggest dud turned out to be a very unfunny comedian, who’d approached one of my friends for pot prior to the show. Maya and I figured it must be the drugs that puts him in the mood to actually tell funny jokes.
Maya couldn’t believe how sore she was the next day after yoga. The best way to deal with soreness is more exercise! We attended a beginner’s capoeira class. Again, she’d done some moves with me before, but this was her first class. She picked up on the sequences much faster than I had in my first capoeira class.
I partnered with her the whole time since I didn’t trust the other students to spar with her. After all, sparring was how I broke my ankle nearly two years ago, which required 6 metal pins.
Even though I no longer train capoeira, I still knew some of the students and enjoyed exposing Maya to this Brazilian martial arts and music.After class, Maya told me she hadn’t done any strenuous exercise like this since November! I didn’t feel too sorry for her. She is 16, after all.
Far too early the next morning, I drove my little niece to the airport. She’d enjoyed herself, but was happy to catch up on her sleep and escape the Texas heat and humidity.
