Our time in Seattle was short-lived. I wish I could say I was more awake for it, but I had spent such long days in Portland, walking and hiking and walking some more, that I was quite worn out by the time we arrived at the Amtrak station a good thirty to forty minutes after we were expected.
Michelle and Tom picked us up and dropped us off at the Green Tortoise Hostel. It was incredibly nice of them to chauffer us around, but I'm afraid I was so out of it that I didn't thank them a quarter as much as they deserved. Especially considering that Tom had been in Seattle for six weeks and was going to spend his first weekend off listening to our inane prattle and trying to ignore our silly suggestions (such as donning a tea cozy a la Dobby in the Harry Potter series or stopping at the Kwik E Mart so we could investigate whether or not Apu was working behind the counter).
My body had not yet adjusted to the vigors of the Northwest coast so I was also beginning a low level sinus infection that weekend. Boy, was I ever LAME. (Although not quite as lame as the kid who sat diagonally from us on the train for the five hour ride from Portland to Seattle. When we were getting off the train, he was regaling his seat partner about an invention of his that would suck all the oxygen out of the earth's atmosphere. All he said he needed was about $10 million in government funding. Yes, he was totally serious. And no, I don't think he knew the guy sitting next to him. But the seats on the train were assigned and that poor guy just couldn't get away – he was assigned to the window seat.)
Our first night in Seattle offered us all the comparison we needed to differentiate it from Portland. I've been told that Portland is exactly like Seattle was about 10-15 years ago but it is hard to imagine that much transformation in so little a period of time. Portland is extremely quiet. Most of the stores and cafes close down by 6PM every night. There were never a lot of people out on the streets, whether it was a Saturday night or a Tuesday morning, and, unless you staid downtown, many of the storefronts were vacant. Although I am willing to concede that we may have missed some of the more vibrant corners of Portland, none of these descriptions even begin to apply to Seattle.
Seattle is far more cosmopolitan. The streets pulsed with the bustle and movement of people, something I've grown accustomed to associating with city streets. On the Thursday night we arrived, the sidewalks were still full of young twenty- and thirty-somethings, all dressed up for a night at the local club, bar, or restaurant. There were also the requisite homeless people (largely gathered in the waterfront park at the north end of Pike's Place Market) and gobs of tourists.
We quickly caught sight of what appeared to be a fire dancer, entertaining a crowd on a rooftop deck a block or two away from the water and tracked him down to The Pink Door, an interesting blend of Italian restaurant and cabaret. It turned out that the night's entertainment was a juggler (apparently he juggles fire), but The Pink Door is renowned for its trapeze artists that swing above the diners. The restaurant gave me more of a sense of a circus than a cabaret, but that was probably due to the juggler and the staff member who looked like one of those old-time circus strong men. As a contrast, the bar staff was dressed up in their best Tour de France uniforms.
Michelle and Tom picked us up and dropped us off at the Green Tortoise Hostel. It was incredibly nice of them to chauffer us around, but I'm afraid I was so out of it that I didn't thank them a quarter as much as they deserved. Especially considering that Tom had been in Seattle for six weeks and was going to spend his first weekend off listening to our inane prattle and trying to ignore our silly suggestions (such as donning a tea cozy a la Dobby in the Harry Potter series or stopping at the Kwik E Mart so we could investigate whether or not Apu was working behind the counter).
My body had not yet adjusted to the vigors of the Northwest coast so I was also beginning a low level sinus infection that weekend. Boy, was I ever LAME. (Although not quite as lame as the kid who sat diagonally from us on the train for the five hour ride from Portland to Seattle. When we were getting off the train, he was regaling his seat partner about an invention of his that would suck all the oxygen out of the earth's atmosphere. All he said he needed was about $10 million in government funding. Yes, he was totally serious. And no, I don't think he knew the guy sitting next to him. But the seats on the train were assigned and that poor guy just couldn't get away – he was assigned to the window seat.)
Our first night in Seattle offered us all the comparison we needed to differentiate it from Portland. I've been told that Portland is exactly like Seattle was about 10-15 years ago but it is hard to imagine that much transformation in so little a period of time. Portland is extremely quiet. Most of the stores and cafes close down by 6PM every night. There were never a lot of people out on the streets, whether it was a Saturday night or a Tuesday morning, and, unless you staid downtown, many of the storefronts were vacant. Although I am willing to concede that we may have missed some of the more vibrant corners of Portland, none of these descriptions even begin to apply to Seattle.
Seattle is far more cosmopolitan. The streets pulsed with the bustle and movement of people, something I've grown accustomed to associating with city streets. On the Thursday night we arrived, the sidewalks were still full of young twenty- and thirty-somethings, all dressed up for a night at the local club, bar, or restaurant. There were also the requisite homeless people (largely gathered in the waterfront park at the north end of Pike's Place Market) and gobs of tourists.We quickly caught sight of what appeared to be a fire dancer, entertaining a crowd on a rooftop deck a block or two away from the water and tracked him down to The Pink Door, an interesting blend of Italian restaurant and cabaret. It turned out that the night's entertainment was a juggler (apparently he juggles fire), but The Pink Door is renowned for its trapeze artists that swing above the diners. The restaurant gave me more of a sense of a circus than a cabaret, but that was probably due to the juggler and the staff member who looked like one of those old-time circus strong men. As a contrast, the bar staff was dressed up in their best Tour de France uniforms.
Martha and I ordered some tea and coffee to help us stay awake long enough to enjoy our first few hours in Washington. Two seats down the juggler kept at his whiskey, occasionally moving to another part of the restaurant or deck to perform.
Eventually we wandered back to the hostel, window-shopping all the way. We saw a good number of the Pigs on Parade during our travels and probably dreamed sweet dreams of happy cow-pigs or bumble-pigs or even bronze pigs…
Our Friday in Seattle was actually spent in Snoqualmie and North Bend, WA. After rudely awakening Michelle (and probably Tom), we drove out to the Salish Lodge for breakfast. The food was quite filling and totally necessary for the day we had planned. I ate the Railroad Avenue; Martha, who was apparently on a eat-anything-that-looks-like-oats diet all week, got the Bircher-Brenner Muësli; and Michelle got the Dungeness Crab Almaviva. If I remember correctly, I did eat off of everyone's plate and therefore can fully recommend the Lodge to any passersby who are looking for a good meal. It's a bit pricey, but you can easily fill up your hollow leg with the size of their meals.
To keep from falling into a sweet, sweet nap, we went on a quick, one-mile hike across the street from the Lodge. We sort of pretended it was a warm-up for what lay ahead. Although what lay ahead did not have quite so many banana slugs.
The big event of the day was our 8-mile roundtrip Mount Si hike, also known as Twin Peaks as per that 1990s television show. I can't even begin to tell you how exhausting that was. Martha claimed to be really slow so we let her lead us up. But by "lead us up," I mean that she sprinted up, leaving me to slowly amble my gasping way to the top. I brought up the rear with such panache.
The hike was beautiful, of course. At the top, we experienced clear skies and an excellent view of Mount Rainier along with other mountains in the Cascades. We even glimpsed a forbidden-city-in-the-sky view of downtown Seattle. But mostly, we congratulated ourselves on surviving the hike and celebrated with a round of dried fruit.
Eventually we wandered back to the hostel, window-shopping all the way. We saw a good number of the Pigs on Parade during our travels and probably dreamed sweet dreams of happy cow-pigs or bumble-pigs or even bronze pigs…Our Friday in Seattle was actually spent in Snoqualmie and North Bend, WA. After rudely awakening Michelle (and probably Tom), we drove out to the Salish Lodge for breakfast. The food was quite filling and totally necessary for the day we had planned. I ate the Railroad Avenue; Martha, who was apparently on a eat-anything-that-looks-like-oats diet all week, got the Bircher-Brenner Muësli; and Michelle got the Dungeness Crab Almaviva. If I remember correctly, I did eat off of everyone's plate and therefore can fully recommend the Lodge to any passersby who are looking for a good meal. It's a bit pricey, but you can easily fill up your hollow leg with the size of their meals.
To keep from falling into a sweet, sweet nap, we went on a quick, one-mile hike across the street from the Lodge. We sort of pretended it was a warm-up for what lay ahead. Although what lay ahead did not have quite so many banana slugs.
The big event of the day was our 8-mile roundtrip Mount Si hike, also known as Twin Peaks as per that 1990s television show. I can't even begin to tell you how exhausting that was. Martha claimed to be really slow so we let her lead us up. But by "lead us up," I mean that she sprinted up, leaving me to slowly amble my gasping way to the top. I brought up the rear with such panache.The hike was beautiful, of course. At the top, we experienced clear skies and an excellent view of Mount Rainier along with other mountains in the Cascades. We even glimpsed a forbidden-city-in-the-sky view of downtown Seattle. But mostly, we congratulated ourselves on surviving the hike and celebrated with a round of dried fruit.
The trek back was long, painful, and led by a nearly sprinting Michelle. Guess who lagged behind...again? That would be me, the sole reason it took us five hours from start to finish. If Martha or Michelle had their way - i.e. kept their pace - it probably would only have taken three and a half hours.
Our victory dinner was at Twede's, also apparently made famous by Twin Peaks. It was the only time all week that I saw Martha do anything so unhealthy - she ate a burger AND a sundae!
Saturday was spent mostly wandering around. Other than the Market, I can't tell you all the 
places I've been! Tom chauffered us everywhere (including the flagship REI which, incidentally, has a little coffee cart set up outside where you can get the most amazing Toffeefay ever!) like the good little boyfriend of Michelle's that he is. I hardly knew where we were half of the time.
places I've been! Tom chauffered us everywhere (including the flagship REI which, incidentally, has a little coffee cart set up outside where you can get the most amazing Toffeefay ever!) like the good little boyfriend of Michelle's that he is. I hardly knew where we were half of the time.Before I knew it, Sunday arrived and our last moments together were spent at the Crumpet Shoppe, Martha chowing down on her groats and me scarfing all the crumpets I could find...
No comments:
Post a Comment