Over the last few days I have seen a guy driving down an 8-lane highway on an ATV. I have seen a number plate that claimed to 'Fight Terrorism.' I have been called ma'am more times than I can count. I have discovered that American Ikea is eerily identical to Australian Ikea. I have eaten at Torchy's Tacos, where they sell a 'Dirty Sanchez.' I have watched a guy doing yoga in an empty lot surrounded by debris and weeds. And David has spotted a guy in a cave in local bushland with his pants around his ankles.

This is a diverse city.

Sunflowers! Everywhere!

Yes, this place really was called Groovy Lube. It looked like a bar?

David at Spicewood Springs, just before spotting the man in the cave with his pants around his ankles...

A forest of cacti on a suburban street

Pawnshops! Everywhere!
We are slowly starting to find our feet here now. I've had a promising email from the person who I want to do some voluntary work with, so fingers very, very tightly crossed on that. We have possibly found a car that isn't either outrageously expensive or about to drop its exhaust pipe 50 metres down the road. We've both had haircuts and are looking like members of civilised society rather than Animal from The Muppets. Every day does bring new challenges and confusions, but that's part of the adventure in a lot of ways. If it were all just plain sailing, we may as well stay at home. So I get on the phone and ask a thousand questions and I grow to like Americans more every day. I know, I know, never stereotype a nationality. But I haven't come across anyone rude or unhelpful yet. The staff at Whole Foods positively glow as I reach their register. The guy who sold me renters insurance only half-jokingly offered to help us move into our house. It's exactly as bizarre and lovely as it sounds.

There are some dots that I still haven't been able to connect yet though. Like queso. Or the Velveeta that goes in it.

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