Lady Luck continued to point her cheery disposition in our direction as we descended upon Seattle; arriving on a sun-soaked afternoon that stretched lazily across the next few days like the cat that ate the award-winning budgerigar. And they say a lot of rain falls in this neck of the woods? Hmmm. Sarah and I ducked into the salubrious surroundings of The Green Tortoise Hostel - our digs for the following nights - then went for a long walk around the waterfront, feasting on fish and chips (still not a patch on those of home, alas), pitchers of beer and the amazing views of the Olympics, Mount Rainier and Puget Sound. Exploring the old World Fair site took up a fair chunk of the next day, along with the obligatory trip up the Space Needle (now a robust 40 years old). Oh, and we got there by monorail ... it's the mass-transit system of the future I tell you! (someday we'll be eating all our meals in pill-form too). The Frank Gehry-designed Experience Music Project was wonderful eye-candy too, especially seeing as I missed out on seeing his Guggenheim Bilbao when I was in San Sebastian.
Local eateries were again attacked with gusto ... Pike Place Market lived up to its reputation as a foodie's paradise ... an iced caffe mocha was gulped down at the "Evil Empire's" founding store. One memorable night was whiled away in Capitol Hill at R Place ("A Seattle icon", the site informs me). Start with the grande pitcher of beer. Add another. And maybe a third. Then thrown in a stackload of appletinis when they catch your eye on the blackboard menu. Meander around the various floors. Watch the "Queer Factor" blow-bubbles-and-eat-octopi-tentacles-and-stuff fest on stage. Observe everyone else trying to be cool (as the local entertainment rag put it, "frat boys with a naughty little secret"). Drink a few more green concoctions. Slur, dance, dribble, stagger, pass out. Nice one. It's tough work keeping up with old flatmates but you'd have to listen pretty damn hard to hear any complaints from me.
‹ 12.9.02
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Portland
State number three was chalked up with a quick flight (complete with all-chatty-all-the-time Irishwoman) up the coast to Oregon. Sarah was there to pick me up at the airport, as perky and red-headed as ever ... which is why we love her after all. Portland itself is a pretty neat place - well-spaced, nice and green, with a bit of a maze for a downtown district made up for by the electic shops, bars and restaurants of NW 21st and 23rd Avenues. Sarah's little "bachelorette" was smack dab between them, so we strolled a lot, soaked up the ambience (and the beer) and ate like queens every night. Wonderful stuff. I was there for the 4th of July celebrations too - fireworks a-go-go and a good natured crowd proved a lot of fun, as was relaxing on the banks of the Willamette a few days later; basking in the afternoon sun, reading the weekend papers, watching the Steel Bridge go up and down and listening to the zydeco sounds of the nearby blues festival. By sheer good-timing (which I've decided this trip's proved I have an uncanny knack for), my lovely host found herself with a few days to spare at the tail end of my visit so, braving the joy that can only be the Greyhound transit experience, we set off for the great coffee-'n-grunge-loving city to the north ...
‹ 10.9.02
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San Francisco
From east to west in five easy hours! After a minor communications mix-up ("See you at the airport!" isn't perhaps the best thing to say) I met up with Iain and we headed into central San Francisco on the shuttle. My fantastic sense of direction sent us to the wrong H.I. hostel so we had to leg it through the perpetually dodgy Tenderloin district to where we were actually supposed to be staying. Isn't it really annoying to read in all the guide books after the fact that the area you're staying in is the one to be avoided at all costs? In the immortal words of Aerosmith, we were living on the edge! All part of the fun I assure you.
The next week was, again, a complete whirlwind of people, places and events. We chowed down big-style on major American portions and shopped a fair amount across the city itself (A&F anyone?). I celebrated my 28th birthday with some fantastic Japanese nosh at the stylish and delicious Ozumo, down by the waterfront. Best ... tuna ... ever. We managed to burn ourselves horribly (me moreso, of course) crossing the Golden Gate Bridge and back ... but the spectacular, fog-free views right across the Bay were absolutely amazing. The Pride weekend celebrations were a lot of fun too - big long gaps in the parade but a lot of interesting floats on display - what I took to be an SPCA-type trailer may in fact have been, on reflection, very much into promoting the "furry" lifestyle choice. Or both? Who knows? That's the beauty of the whole thing after all. Following our more-or-less successful dodging of the sun for the better part of the afternoon, we took off to the Civic Centre for the after-party - searing heat, expensive beer, smoky barbeques, dodgy line-dancing and nearly naked folk of all descriptions ... may the good Lord bless diversity, I say!
The obligatory trip to the Castro was also dispatched with ease (and some fine wining and dining, of course) and to round it all off, we took a trip out Angel Island and Alcatraz: very interesting insights into immigration and incarceration respectively. So ... a lot of walking, a lot of eating, a fair amount of boozing, a good whack at the shops, a dose of hill-walking, many many good laughs and a liberal amount of Californian sun/fog/sun saw us fall in love with the city - thanks Iain for ensuring the "never without a friendly face nearby" plan for North America continued without a hitch!
‹ 9.9.02
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