The idea of going to Austin had been simmering for a while, but the push came when I checked out the SXSW website and saw they were offering an amazing 50% discount for students on the Music pass. That sealed the deal. I went with Aylah, my friend and classmate in the VCC Music Program, and we stayed with a Couchsurfing host called John Becker for the entirety of our stay except a chaotic first night. Here we go; saddle up!
March 7
We had a layover in Denver, where we stuffed ourselves with some Quizno’s. En route to Austin, seated on the other side of the aisle from me was someone I recognized from drop-in improv. Shawn was heading to SXSW as well, working on interviews for TV and Film events. He dropped a couple of insider tips which I filed away for later, willing my easily-overwhelmed brain to not forget anything.
The moment we landed in Austin, we were wrapped in a thick, heavy hug—Austin’s warmth hit us instantly. Even the airport had personality, with food-truck-style stalls serving up bold, Tex-Mex flavours and giving us a palatable preview.
We caught an Uber—with a driver who politely protested “no Inglés” to my attempt at conversation–to our open-concept mobile home hostel, which would be our crash pad for the night. As we arrived at the address and stepped out into the dead of night, surrounded by farm country, our driver trailed us with concern, his headlights bright as if to illuminate the grim outcome might await us.
The hostel’s instructions were simple but disarming: “Push really hard on the blue gate.” As we pushed the heavy, unyielding gate, a loud, ungodly creaking and straining sound echoed out as a dog barked in the distance and scampered across the lot. The whole scene felt like something out of a low-budget indie film.
It was dark, so we had no idea just how vast this trailer park was, or even where exactly we were supposed to be (the booking confirmation didn’t specify). The first trailer we passed had a hastily painted “No Trespassing” sign, so that wasn’t the one. Then Aylah pointed to a newer-looking trailer at the far end of the property: “that one!”
I entered the code that the host texted to me earlier into the keypad, which set off the satisfying whir of machinery followed by the affirmative click of unlocking. Thank goodness; we were in.
The hostel layout was pretty cool. It had two levels: two bedrooms on the first floor, and then an open-concept upper level with two wings, a solo guy snoozing on the side opposite us.
March 8
We woke up to noise. Not just regular noise, but the kind of noise that makes you want to scream obscenities and throw things.
At first I thought the commotion was coming from other hostel guests, making a very loud exit in the morning, but they kept coming in and out. Every time they closed the door, I thought ‘good riddance!’ But they kept coming back in, then leaving again. Only after the sleep was resolutely knocked from my system did I jerk myself up to look over the railing to take a look. They were plumbing contractors. Texting with the the host, I found out that another guest reported a leak so he dispatched the noisiest guys in the the continent to come fix it before our checkout time of 11am.
Low on sleep and cranky, we tried to make the best of a bad situation by enjoying the view of the river, the only redeeming quality of the hostel’s location, while eating our leftover Quizno’s from the airport. We watched a dad taking his son out for a spin on a motorized boat, and the scene struck us with its serenity, in dire contrast to the morning we had.
Even that early in the morning, the heat was already formidable and we cowered in the full sun with nowhere to hide while waiting for our Uber to take us to our host John’s place. John Becker was one of the top rated hosts on CouchSurfing in Austin, and had travelled and lived in Korea, having originally hailed from California.
We stepped into his apartment on Rainey Street and were instantly taken by how bright, clean, and serene it was. The hallways were wide enough to roll two suitcases side by side with room to spare.
After the chaos of our hellish night in the hostel, this felt like a much-needed reset.
We joined John on his daily walk with Obi (short for Oberon, a nod to Game of Thrones), his sweet, well-mannered dog. This walk, part of their routine, was something that he incorporated his Couchsurfers into, as a first-day orientation stroll to get acquainted with a few key landmarks. Obi was such a calm, gentle soul. I don’t think he barked once in the time we were there.
At a certain point, we parted ways with John and Obi, as Aylah was determined to swim in Barton Springs, and John had some misgivings about the cleanliness of Barton Springs which were probably warranted. We saw this guy slacklining like he was auditioning for Cirque du Soleil, and the river was dotted with young people on floaties living their best spring break lives.
Turns out the Springs was closed, so we pondered walking over to Zilker Botanical Garden, but some part of my neurodivergent brain possessed me to get tickets for a little train ride called Zilker Eagle while Aylah was still reading about the closure notices. So we rode the train, and when the weather took a turn for the cold and windy, we wrapped up in towels we had brought for our swim. It’s always the gimmicky tourist stuff you’d roll your eyes at in your own city that somehow feels oddly delightful when you’re somewhere new. I’ll never stop appreciating how being somewhere new has a way of temporarily dissolving cynicism, replacing it with a curiosity that asks, “Why shouldn’t we buy cowboy boots?”
With boots on the mind, the next leg of our adventure had us riding double on a single e-scooter, coordinating our launches with a synchronized “1, 2, 3, push!” as we made our way to the bougie South Congress neighbourhood to visit Allen’s Boots, an Austin staple for almost 50 years. Inside, we marvelled at the detail and craftsmanship; some of those boots looked like they’d strutted straight off the stage at the Grand Ole Opry. We quietly gasped at the price tags; some were going for more than our round-trip flight.
Personally, I’d rather find boots with stories baked into the creases, at a vintage shop. I wouldn’t need to be too precious with them and would also get a living piece of history.
We also stopped by Prototype Vintage, which was packed with gems. I scored an Oscar de la Renta sweater—mixed fibre and adorned with little suede ribbons tied into the sweetest bows. It was perfect timing too, since I was starting to freeze.
After safely navigating our exhilarating 2-girls-1-escooter back to Rainey Street, we arrived at John’s apartment to find him hosting two friends in his living room: the delightful husband-and-wife duo of Alejandro from Colombia, John’s former neighbour from across the hall, and Eva from Germany, who had once been one of John’s CouchSurfing guests years ago.
John also invited an Australian mate who was in town to pitch an app called PedoCillin at the SXSW Tech panels. The app was designed to protect kids from cyber predators and inappropriate content online, though it sounded more like a lifesaving medication for diabetic pedophiles. I couldn’t help but give him a hard time about it! I looked it up recently and it seems like the name has since been changed.
Later on, another friend showed up: an uncharacteristically late German, pursuing a stand-up comedy career in the Austin after being admonished by the German government via snail mail for telling a joke that was politically incorrect.
And just like that, we had formed a delightful band of misfits ready to take on the town, united by our shared obsession with travel and questionable decisions. After indulging in some nourishing grease at Peace Love and Burgers, we went to a bar next door called ‘The Stay Put’ for some drinks, despite not feeling like staying put at all.
The conversation drifted to where to go next. As the official SXSW music programming hadn’t started yet, we followed our host’s guidance and headed to Buford’s. It was swarming with Texan college students, pregamed and ready to get lucky, in full spring break debauchery mode, and it felt like a Taylor Swift concert.
It wasn’t really the kind of music we were looking for but it was interesting to be in a club scene in another city and for a moment make believe that I too was a Texan college student looking to just shake it off.
March 9
Day 2! Just steps from John’s apartment on Rainey, we stumbled on a Love Is Blind pop-up. In the archway were Monica (of Monica and Joey, the golden couple of Season 8) and Sara of Sara and Ben. Aylah pointed out that we were within arms’ reach of Joey himself, with his trademark long hair. I’ll admit I didn’t actually watch this season, aside from a few chaotic YouTube recaps. But I did recognize them, and I was a little scared to be around them. The dramatic energy was palpable.
This day marked the beginning of SXSW’s unofficial and free-to-the-public music programming, so we were headed down to an outdoor stage called Auditorium Shores by the Colorado River. Feeling somewhat empowered by John’s orientation tour from the day before, we managed to follow the river until we found the stage.
Summer was in full swing, and having the river just behind the stage was a gift, a quiet getaway to gather our thoughts between sets and soak in the sun.
The first performer, OneDa (pronounced like wonder with a British accent), was a rapper from Manchester who came in fully charged with more steeze than I knew what to do with. Her set was all about empowerment and believing in yourself.
Female rappers always hit something deep in me. There’s something powerful about watching someone blaze a trail in an industry that doesn’t always make room for them—and doing it like they were born for it.
Next up was GhettoGala; these gentlemen were the real deal. Singing, rapping, dancing, shuffling, harmonizing with the kind of effortless ease that comes from letting go and being deeply in the moment. They were dressed for comfort and style in a way that set a new standard in my mind for male fashion, and their whole performance radiated a vibrant, grounded, healthy masculine energy. It was fun, magnetic, and full of soul. An absolute joy to witness
We would have loved to stay longer but I had claimed free tickets online for a comedy show at the Black Rabbit and one of my goals coming to Austin was to see live comedy so I wasn’t about to miss it. On our scenic walk back to town, we passed by a stately tribute to Stevie Ray Vaughn (which reminded me to practice guitar), and also the stately clock tower (which reminded me of my limited time on Earth to practice all the things I wanted to get good at).
After some more 2-girls-1-escooter shenanigans and picking up a big bottle of cider-mead blend (as it was a BYOB event), we arrived at an unassuming entrance next to a barber shop. Descending the stairs to the basement and walking through a long corridor led us to our free comedy show at the Black Rabbit.
We were seated right up front and when the comics started stepping up on stage, we realized it was a door guys’ show, which was amazing, as these were the folks working for the clubs and hitting as many mics as they could hoping to catch their big break in comedy.
Someone I definitely didn’t expect to see was Ari Matti, the Estonian assassin of Kill Tony fame. He mentioned he was workshopping some new material, and for me, that was a total win. I was equally hyped that Aylah, not typically a comedy fan, enjoyed it so much too that she wanted to check out more comedy while we were in Austin.
The wild part? Later on, I saw him perform that exact material on Kill Tony’s Netflix episode. We had front-row seats to comedy history and I’ll never stop marvelling at how lucky we got. Austin truly lived up to its reputation..
Still riding the high from our unexpectedly epic comedy experience, we found ourselves wandering down Dirty Sixth when a bar promoter hooked our attention with the classic: “Free drinks for ladies!” And look, I’m not too superior to enjoy the privileges of my gender. After all, the adage is true: girls just wanna have fun. So naturally, we followed him into a place called Thirsty’s — which, yes, was a walking beige flag. But when on Dirty Sixth, right?
We cashed in on our free pineapple margaritas (or something vaguely tropical-tasting) and jumped into a game of cornhole with a few of the bar’s more outgoing patrons—one of whom was Michael, a smooth-talking extrovert who quickly became part of our evening crew.
We hung out there for a while, waiting for John and Alejandro to join us. Once the group came together, we migrated to Friends Bar, where the drinks kept flowing and the conversation centred around Michael’s occupation. It turned out, he was a salesman. His product? Sex toys for men.
Naturally, that sparked a solid round of good-natured roasting, all in good fun.
After that, we were in the mood for some live jazz, so we followed Alejandro’s lead and ended up at The Elephant Room, a cozy little basement bar that delivered exactly the vibe were looking for. After enjoying some live music and drinks, having the kind of night that felt like it go anywhere, we hung around outside for a bit while deciding where to head to next, and this is when we met a rambunctious Australian guy in a suit called Jake who was easygoing, potty-mouthed and altogether too much fun.
In a last-minute twist of fate, we decided to invite Jake into the Uber with us back to Rainey Street. Aylah needed food, so we made a pit stop at the food trucks. Jake hung out with us, while John, Alejandro, and Michael needed drinks and sated their thirst at a bar across the street.
And that’s where things took a turn.
When we rejoined our friends at the bar across the street, the mood had shifted. The energy was off, in that slightly tense way I couldn’t quite name but could feel. Maybe the drinks had gotten to Michael, but something in him flipped as he started puffing up, posturing with a performative bravado toward Jake.
At first, I tried to calm him down. I still thought of Michael as the funny, slightly too-confident extrovert we’d been bantering with all night. I believed, perhaps naïvely, that he’d respond to reason.
Out of nowhere, he growled to Jake, “I’m going to smash a bottle over your head.”
And then it all happened so fast. Michael shoved me, maybe trying to push me out of the way, but my back was already to the bar. The next thing I knew, glass shattered. Jake was bleeding. And then, amidst the chaos, Jake shouted, “You hit a woman!”
Michael, still shouting and charging at the staff, was being wrangled toward the street, while Jake stood with napkin held over his bleeding head. And I stood there, shaken, realizing how differently that could’ve gone.
The bartenders, servers and manager all came up to me and reiterated how that kind of behaviour was absolutely not tolerated, and I appreciated that, but I was mostly just sad that someone I thought was cool turned out to be so uncool.
In the aftermath, as Aylah, John, Alejandro and I walked the couple blocks back to John’s apartment, a particular phrase curiously reached all of minds at the same time.
“Never trust a salesman.”
March 10
After a restless night, the result of too much liquor and stimulation the night before, we made our way to the Rivian Day Stage for one of the daytime outdoor events. There, we caught Eastern Echoes, a showcase of Asian artists. It was the first day of official music programming!
We saw Hien, a Vietnamese-Hungarian artist who DJ’ed while singing, beautifully honoring her dual heritage. My favorite part was the sign language interpreter, who was absolutely crushing it. We’d seen him the day before signing for Ghetto Gala and already loved him.
Up next was Chinese American Bear, a Seattle-based band that spreads the cultural joy of Chinese heritage through catchy, upbeat pop. The lead singer, Anne, her boyfriend Bryce on guitar, and the drummer (whose name I didn’t catch) all radiated positive energy and good vibes. They performed a song about dumplings, incorporating Chinese phrases about the process of making them, teaching the audience the words while demonstrating the steps with movements. They also covered the classic Chinese song “The Moon Represents My Heart,” made famous by Teresa Teng in 1977, which resonated deeply with me, as it’s an iconic Chinese song that my parents sang with me when I was little.
Next up was Tiger Bae, a Japanese metal band. At first, I couldn’t quite connect with their intense, brooding energy, but then the weed kicked in, and I was completely hypnotized and mesmerized by their performance. So much so that I didn’t capture any videos or photos.
After them was NISATIWA X NOTEP, a chaotic, joyful, and incredibly high-energy band. Their guitarist jumped off the stage, miraculously not tripping over any cords or getting disconnected, and became one with the audience. He was within arms reach. The magic of the connection was undeniable, and everyone was dancing and grooving to their captivating sounds.
We met Isha, who was working as a photographer for a local arts and culture label called Off Record Media (@offrecordtx) and Lucy, an outdoorsy Austin native who just got back from New Mexico and was all smiles and sunshine.
We also met Susan, pictured on the right in the photo on the right with Anne from Chinese American Bear. Susan is a New Orleans native who was in Austin visiting her daughter and grandson, and runs a quilting business called Seabat Custom Quilting from her hometown just outside New Orleans. We even received an invitation to visit her and stay in her home!
Afterwards, we felt drawn toward the skybridge that connected the Convention Center to the Hilton hotel, so we rode the escalator to the second floor and found on our way there. We had a nice moment of reflection on how creative people needed to tap into their intuition and engage with community and art, and then realized a more immediate truth – creative people needed to eat!
The time had come: we had to experience some Austin barbecue!
We headed to the Ironworks Barbecue and for the first time in Austin, we saw a ‘conceal your weapon’ sign, which felt like a demarcation of cultural disparity, coming from Canada. Inside, the space was spacious, and once we ordered, we were free to sit anywhere we liked. I really appreciated this kind of restaurant setup—efficient and relaxed—and the food was fantastic.
On our way to the next music venue, we took the river route again, which was quickly becoming familiar, and just in time to witness the nightly bat phenomenon at Congress Avenue Bridge. Flurries of bats emerged from beneath the bridge, swarming in a unified mass overhead, putting on an incredible show for the crowd gathered above and below. This spectacle began after the bridge was renovated in 1980, which unknowingly created perfect roosting spots for bats. Initially feared as pests, the bats have since been embraced by Austin, and now thrive as the largest urban bat colony in North America. Our host, John, had mentioned it during our walk earlier, and now we were witnessing it firsthand. I get it now—no wonder the bat is considered an unofficial mascot of Austin!
As night fell, we arrived at Valhalla, a live music bar, where we had planed to see an evening act, but we weren’t feeling it so we headed back out and wandered around the Red River Entertainment District, following our eyes and ears for another interesting show to check out. We walked down an alley that seemed to be buzzing with interest and that’s how we happened upon the Creek and the Cave, our second live comedy show of the trip. I’m glad the festival volunteers beckoned us in, while we were unsure.
We didn’t even realize we could get into official Comedy events with a Music lanyard. I’m still not sure if it depends on capacity or the venue but we were lucky to have arrived just in time for the 9 p.m. show, which kicked off with the whip-smart, fast-talking, and hilariously irreverent comedian Laura Peek. Later, Greer Barnes took the stage. I’d previously seen him on YouTube and instantly fell in love with his bee impersonations, so it felt like a kismet moment to see another beloved comedian perform live.
Tues Mar 11
Our last day in Austin was fast approaching, and we were eager to take John up on his offer to visit the shooting range. As a gun aficionado with plenty of experience taking Couchsurfing guests, John was the guy to go to the range with. We knew we were in good hands. He gave us a safety walkthrough at home first, wisely suggesting we do it there since the range itself could be overwhelming with all the noise.
In under an hour, I went from feeling impressed and slightly intimidated by his gun collection to developing a genuine appreciation for the mechanics and design behind each one.
We tried out handguns/pistols, rifles, and revolvers and learned about how to load a magazine, look through the scope, proper thumb placement and position while holding a gun, and the proper stance to manage kickback.
Then, properly primed and briefed, we headed to The Range at Austin where we put our learning into practice.
We had a great time at the range and got real hands-on experience with handguns, revolvers, and shotguns. But let me tell you—nothing prepares you for the kickback of a shotgun. I had a healthy amount of fear going in, but I pushed through it, and that rush of overcoming it was genuinely exhilarating.
Afterward, we explored the historical section, which was surprisingly fascinating. I don’t think I ever fully understood what a musket was—but learning that it’s essentially a gun with a spear (or “poker”) on the end was endlessly entertaining to me.
John had procured everything to make sure we had a great experience—hearing protection, plenty of ammunition, a curated selection of guns, and most importantly, supernatural patience as we nervously asked the same questions again and again. He was the perfect host and guide, and it felt fitting that he’s in the process of launching his own business focused on gun education and tourism, aptly named Shoot Them Guns. After you learn gun safety from the best, of course.
After working up an appetite at the range, we refueled with burgers and fries from P. Terry’s, then set off on our own to explore East Austin, a neighborhood we’d passed by on our first day and had mentally bookmarked for its cool, eclectic vibe. We stumbled upon a pop-up vintage shop next to a portable mini stage right by the highway, with live music setting the mood. I picked up a two-tone tartan vest, and Aylah scored a Chinese Communist Party hat—complete with pins, all while enjoying some local music!
That only whet our appetite for more vintage shopping, so we followed our intuition deeper into the heart of East Austin. In need of a pick-me-up, we stopped into a cool little café called The Brew and Brew, where an effortlessly hip barista took the time to write down a list of fantastic recommendations. That list was the Holy Grail of cool spots—it ended up shaping the rest of our adventure.
East Austin had exactly the kind of cultural vibrancy we were craving. It reminded me of Mount Pleasant, but somehow more alive, more vibrant and layered. If only we’d known all the best spots were tucked away here earlier in the trip!
In the evening, we had lined up our first paid entry events. So far we’d been enjoying the free events and were wondering if buying tickets was really necessary, or if we could’ve had a similarly good time just hitting up the free events.
We were in for a world music/jazz showcase at Coopers BBQ, which was a really cool, spacious restaurant, with a wrap-around design with great stage, ample dancing room. First up, we saw Lassy-Eskola – a duo comprised of Timo Lassy (saxophone) and Jukka Eskola (trumpet), offering up a powerful fusion of Scandinavian jazz informed by New Orleans’ rich musical heritage.
The name of their new album, Nordic Stew, couldn’t have been more fitting. Their sound was a blend of sonic magic, both technically masterful and somehow primordial in its originality. It was some of the most enriching, mentally stimulating jazz I’ve ever heard. The rest of the six-piece band was equally impressive, with piano, bass, tuba, and drums rounding out the lineup. Their rich, layered sound made them the perfect act to open the night.
Next up was Mordai, a Hungarian folk band infused with contemporary influences. The lead singer appeared to be locked in a lighthearted battle of wills with the mic stand, an ongoing struggle that was equal parts entertaining and slightly nerve-wracking. At times, it teetered dangerously close to toppling over amps or instruments, but he always managed to catch it at the last second, as if by some chaotic choreography. His bandmates, unfazed, carried on as if this was just another day on stage. The whole thing added an amusing layer of unpredictability to an already dynamic performance.
Then we saw Route14, a Japanese instrumental jazz band featuring a phenomenal female trumpeter whose presence was nothing short of electric. Her playing had this effortless fluidity, each note soaring with clarity and warmth. The way she moved across the stage, turning to face different parts of the audience, made it feel like she was speaking directly to us through her music. It was as if every phrase carried an unspoken message: be bold, take up space, step into the light. It genuinely moved me.
Next we had to leave to catch our main act of the night, a 6-piece band called Dutch Interior, at the 13th floor, a music venue/bar in the Red River Cultural District (a tribute to Austin-based psychedelic rock pioneers The 13th Floor Elevators).
Dutch Interior’s set was one of those rare shows that felt less like a performance and more like a sonic experience. Their music was immersive, hypnotic, and emotionally freeing, like being pulled into a trance I didn’t know I needed. I know that something experimental and deeply soul-stirring was about to unfold as early as the sound check. I’ll be honest, I was completely worn out, slumped on the steps, danced out, and ready to close my eyes. But the second they started, something deep within me stirred me to get up and dance. No way was I missing this. It was a powerful reminder of why I need to keep going to live shows: because this is where music comes alive. The interplay between the guitars was especially stunning, like they were having a conversation all their own.
The atmosphere in the venue was electric. We were among one of those rare crowds that was truly there for the music. You could feel it on stage as well as in the audience: the emotion, the depth, the sensitivity, the abandon. I’ve come to believe that when an artist truly leaves it all on the stage, there’s no need for banter or crowd-hyping. The performance speaks for itself. There’s a certain purity in that kind of delivery, anchored in humility, precision, and the quiet confidence that comes from relentless practice. We ended the night the only way that felt right: sitting on the curb with jumbo pizza slices in hand, full in every sense of the word.
March 12
On our last full day in Austin, we made our way back to the Rivian Day Stage to soak in a bit more music and reconnect with the friends we’d made there a couple days ago.
That afternoon, the stage lit up with the infectious energy of Volcán, a high-energy cumbia band that had the entire crowd moving. Their rhythm was impossible to resist. Everyone was dancing, laughing, fully in it. At one point, they tossed a T-shirt into the crowd for the best dancer.
By this point, the heat was really setting in, and we needed a break from the sun and the crowds. We ducked into the Convention Center to check out Flatstock, the poster art exhibit we’d heard about from Susan on our first day at the Rivian Stage, and it was the perfect change of pace and the brief respite from the heat was not only welcome but necessary.
Inside, it felt like stepping into a different era. The space was filled with vibrant graphic art, screen-printed posters, and retro designs that oozed personality. It had this analog charm that made you slow down and take it all in: inventive designs, bold colours, rich histories interwoven into the visual narratives.
One of the most unexpected highlights of the day was a powerhouse trio we stumbled upon outside the Convention Center: a mother and two daughters, all dressed in white, performing on a smaller outdoor stage. A total hidden gem.
They radiated ’90s girl group realness in the best way possible. The mother had serious vocal chops—soulful, commanding—and her daughters brought the energy with tight choreography and infectious stage presence. The whole crowd was vibing, dancing, and totally caught up in their joy. It was pure, uplifting and pure magic, the kind of performance that sneaks up on you and steals your heart.
I was also approached by a sweet woman with a camera named Laura, who was photographing people for a SXSW street style feature for the Austin Statesman. I had no idea my casual, breezy little outfit, picked mostly for its breathability in the heat, would catch anyone’s eye. Honestly, I’d been feeling a bit self-conscious about my doughy midriff earlier that day. I even ended up with an uneven sunburn from wearing that bra top. But hey, if it got me into the newspaper, maybe it was worth it. Here is the article if you’re curious.
Thanks, Laura!
We also happened to run into a comedian called Jacob Canter who had been a guest on Kill Tony and happened to be working at ASPCA booth. Aylah had run into him the day prior and told me about him. And there he was at the booth again! While chatting, we mentioned we were starving and asked for a food recommendation. Without hesitation, he pointed vaguely into the distance and said, “There’s a taco place…over there in the alley.”
We walked in the general direction, with waning confidence and mounting hunger, until finally, we had to resign ourselves to use Google Maps, which confirmed that the salvation we were looking for went by the name of Taqueria de Diez, and it indeed was accessible only from an alley entrance.
There was a door man managing the line outside, and there was also a queue side. Thankfully they were efficient and the line moved super fast! And true enough, the tacos did not disappoint. The best tacos I’ve had in Austin, and maybe a contender for the best I’ve had outside of Mexico! Solid reco from Jacob.
Next on the agenda: more vintage shopping and ticking off a few spots from the legendary list curated by the cool barista we’d met earlier. We hopped on a bus headed toward the University area, but when it started crawling at a snail’s pace, we jumped off near campus and decided to walk the rest of the way. In hindsight, six blocks under the blazing sun felt much longer than anticipated, and we were definitely starting to fade.
Just when we needed it most, we stumbled upon an oasis: JuiceLand. Smoothies in hand, we were revived and ready to hit the shops.
Our first stop was a cozy little store called Lofi Vintage, where we were greeted by the sweetest guy at the till, a diehard Polo Ralph Lauren enthusiast. He kept showing us pieces he was eyeing for himself and had the kind of easygoing charm that made you want to hang out and chat all afternoon. Before we left, he tipped us off to another spot, 2nd Street, known for its imported Japanese goods.
Continuing our tour of cool spots, we eventually found ourselves at Antone’s. While I’m no longer a record collector (years of lugging them through multiple moves cured me of that), I still have a deep appreciation for the aesthetic, the sense of community, and the role record stores play as cultural hubs and third spaces. There’s something grounding about being in a place where music isn’t just background noise, but the main event.
While we were in the area, we also stopped by Leopard Lounge and Buffalo Exchange. One thing that really stood out was how kind and gentle the shop staff were, genuinely sweet in a way that felt rare.
It wasn’t until after we’d left that I looked up the neighbourhood and realized just how many shops there were, places like Vintage Hideout, Monkies Vintage, Never Knew, and a whole lineup of great restaurants we didn’t get the chance to try.
We wrapped up the day with a long walk back along The Drag, past the University, determined to check out 2nd Street—our final stop of the night and a must-visit, thanks to the glowing recommendation from our friend at Lofi Vintage. It absolutely lived up to the hype, packed with affordable and one-of-a-kind pieces. If they hadn’t been closing for the night, I could’ve spent hours in there.
Our adventure was incredibly enriching, but by the end, we were completely wiped from all the walking. We headed back to John’s apartment, buzzing about our fashion finds. After a quick refresh, we threw on some of our new looks and went out with John and Nikolai for one last night on the town.
On Rainey Street, we stumbled upon a magician casually practicing witchcraft. I forgot to catch his name but he managed to capture a little piece of my soul. It made me wonder if maybe I want to pursue magic next? It was absolutely unforgettable and I’m so glad we had some cash to tip him.
For our final stop, we headed downtwon to the Marriott lounge for some late-night bites and drinks, then made one last visit to the Elephant Room, the cozy, underground jazz spot we’d fallen in love with a couple nights ago when we were hanging out with John and friends. This time, the band on stage seemed like local musicians just doing their thing, unaffiliated with SXSW. And honestly, that made it even better. It was the perfect way to wind down—no hype, no badges, just a laid-back, soulful local show.
General thoughts on SXSW
As we began planning our trip, it quickly became clear that there wasn’t a single resource that laid everything out in an easily digestible way.
The SXSW Go app was tricky to navigate, and even on a laptop, the website’s filtering tools were clunky and utterly useless for building out a schedule. In the end, we discovered the most effective approach was planning by venue, rather than by individual shows. Even with this in mind, the site was so clunky and intuitive that it was a burden to navigate.
Also, with some larger artist performances having limited entry, we shifted our focus to smaller venues, embracing the spirit of discovery over trying to catch big names.
Beyond the music, SXSW offered a myriad of industry panels, mentorship sessions, and conference-style events, many with limited capacity and priority access for premium badge holders. While we could have registered early for some of the industry sessions, we didn’t want to bother planning around events that weren’t a sure thing, so we gave up on that altogether.
We also booked the most affordable flights, which meant arriving just before the music started and leaving before it ended. While our time was incredible, we did miss out on the closing party, which is probably a legendary Austin experiences.
Caught up in the overwhelming array of artists and performances, we didn’t give much thought to transportation. It wasn’t until the very last day that we realized we hadn’t taken advantage of the free shuttle system! We also felt that it was perhaps not necessary to have gone in and bought the official pass, even though it did grant us entry to some amazing hows. The free shows and unofficial events were awesome as well, and there were enough free shows to keep anyone entertained.
A local saying we heard that resonated with us was, “If you don’t like the weather, just wait a while.”
It couldn’t have been truer as we found ourselves baking in the sun during the day and shivering in the evenings.
For my next visit
Our time in Austin was so brief, there was no way we could have packed in more. I was glad for the time we’d left intentionally left unstructured for wandering and spontaneous discoveries and wouldn’t have changed that.
Even though we caught some amazing comedy at Black Rabbit and the Creek and the Cave, I would’ve loved to make it to the Comedy Mothership. As a Kill Tony fan, I was starstruck just walking past it on 6th Street.
Another spot I would’ve loved to experience is Esther’s Follies, a modern-day vaudeville theater on 6th. It seemed like the kind of place where you could see some seriously unique performances, and I’m sure it would’ve been a fun, unforgettable experience. I also wish we’d had the chance to check out a speakeasy called Floppy Disk Repair, which Shawn told me about on the plane. You need a secret code to get in, and it changes periodically, which made it all the more intriguing.
I also wish we could’ve spent more time in East Austin, checked out the legendary BBQ spot Terry Black’s, and sampled more of the incredible Texan BBQ scene in general.
There were so many more vintage shops I would’ve loved to visit, and I had my eye on getting a tarot reading, too. We even got invited to a Latin party, but it clashed with a show we were on our way to see. The whole vibe of the trip was that there was just so much to do, all the time, and we couldn’t be in multiple places at once, no matter how badly we wanted to.
A huge thank you to John for being such an amazing host, Aylah for being the best company and capturing the memories (some of which are featured here), and to Austin, for surpassing every expectation and showing us what it truly means to be a hub of creativity, music, and unforgettable experiences. Until next time!
Within Yourself 