I had a pretty beautiful introduction to the city when I went to Redmond for a meeting a while back. I took the Bolt Bus up early in the morning, and I awoke after a sleepy ride to the sun rising on a shinny shimmering city; the Space Needle and the Puget Sound radiating a soft orange.
It was a rush through the city at first. Over the past weekend I got the chance to see it a little more intimately.
Driving around the actual city is not that bad for a Sunday afternoon compared to other cities I have journeyed into during the weekend.
After dropping off our belongings at an Airbnb place, we journeyed into the city to see some friends, and the sights of course.
I should stop here and say that one of the most important people in my life came to visit me over the weekend. Henceforth the "we" pronouns, and not the "I" pronouns. She has such a place in my heart, and she re-centered me, but that will/may be in another blog post.
Seattle. A strange beast.
The city lies right in the strange geography of the Sound. It's land mass really is not that huge, which has prompted it to use the space it has efficiently and effectively. It's a narrow strip in between this ocean thing, and a lake so deep they can't sink pilings in it to build a proper bridge, so it has two floating bridges connecting it to the cities on the east side of the lake.
The area is also very, very hilly. I never quite realized the actual elevation gain and loss as you traverse small one to two mile stretches. Overhead guidewires power the buses up and down the hills, which I find fascinating, being a transit nerd and all.
The city seems so... Disorganized. Because of the lay of the land (and the fact we have not learned how to easily build over water), there is no real "sprawl" to the place. The land has been developed well before the sprawl got to it, which leaves many small neighborhoods (some gentrifying, some not). There are no clear "areas" to the city, and the city proper is quite small. There are many separate cities that are within 20 minute drives of the main area, and they all have bustling economies, towering office buildings, and established residents of their own to entertain.
When the sun does come out though, it leaves quite a sight over the Sound:
The presence of surrounding cities and economic centers really detracts from Seattle proper in my opinion. It makes me want to go explore those areas, and takes away from the importance of the central city itself.
I did marvel though at the Alaska Highway Viaduct along the waterfront. I know in the eyes of many it looks ugly, gray, and is actually going to be destroyed once the main tunnel under the city is done, but it is a piece of engineering history and is something of a pesky wonder of the automobile age. I couldn't help but snap a picture of it myself:
It's got a sort of 50's suburban beauty to it.
After meandering around Pike Place for a bit, we went to a show at a local art/radio collective, which I enjoyed. I sat in the room, thinking that this was the crowd I elected to hangout with a little less than others in college, but I also ate it up because it was young people around my age, who were doing what they loved.
It's been so long since I've seen that kind of dedication to a building, artwork, and simple life as I did at the Hollow Earth Radio studio.
Gone were the stuffy grey cubicles and stale earth tones of the walls of the everyday office. The walls were messy, painted with artwork and covered with artwork. The studio was in the back, and the seating was basic and few and far between. There were no standard protocols in terms of looks, professionalism, or dress. People at the show were wearing everyday clothes, the speakers of the studio the same, and a strange but wonderful puppet show followed the anything but rehearsed introduction.
I don't know if I'd like to go to that extreme, but as my best friend put it, I saw people who cared and were invested in what they did, and I drank it in.
After the show we headed to an interesting bar/beer depot/bottle shop. Got a cider flight, had some food, and caught up and hung out. We were a part of the scene, and ever since that visit started, I felt a part of something greater; a sense of being, in some regards or another. I felt comfortable just doing, and not like I was the focal point of the outstanding difference so many people in the professional world rally against. I blended, and I absolutely loved it.
No worries about being called out; no worries about being alone in what I do. I had that sense- of place.
Maybe it was the people I was hanging out with, maybe it was the environment and culture that made it possible. Most likely a mix of both. But I felt so at ease with the world, but ready to get up, rally, and change things together.
