I touched down in Seattle just short of midnight on Thursday, August 14th. The thing I really hate about flying (1) is that airports all kind of look the same and all of the crap you went through to get to your destination, initially, seems for naught. Dodging and weaving between other exhausted travelers to baggage claim, I soon found myself on a dirty curb outside, with a view of parking decks and a throng of cars. The air was filled with exhaust, beeping, and the angry, insistent whistle of a parking attendant on a Seugway, You can’t park your car here! Implied with every shrill blast.

In short, I wasn’t entirely sure that the pilot hadn’t just made a big circle and landed in Philly again.

I was soon found and recovered by my dear friend and host, and whisked away on the I5 past a dark and slumbering city to her home in Northern Seattle. I had been to Seattle once before, the difference between this time and last was that previously, Seattle was my main destination and this time it was a layover before the start of our trip. As such, I had devoted very little time to planning my day in Seattle.

Although there are a hundred things I would love to see and do in Seattle that I haven’t yet (2); I just wanted to relax and be outside, get something to eat, and people watch at my leisure. I can’t think of a better place really for any of that, than Pike Place Market.

Jet lag be damned, I took the bus down town early in the morning, catching glimpses of the Space Needle in between high rises and construction. Pike Place Market was already bustling with activity by the time I arrived. The day promised to be warm and sunny, and the market was teeming with tourists with cameras looking for photo ops, breakfast, and souvenirs and locals with reusable shopping bags selecting wine, flowers, and fresh seafood for dinner.

After purchasing some Rainier cherries and an Honest biscuit (3), I moved outside and found a spot to sit in a small park with a view of Puget Sound and the Great Wheel of Seattle. The sky was a brilliant blue and cloudless and it seemed like just about everyone had taken the day off to be there. A few feet in front of me, tow-headed siblings were playing tag while their father watched, a few feet from a mom adding a sunflower to her baby’s stroller, a few feet from a homeless man sleeping in the sun, a few feet from a couple sharing a kiss... almost a complete cross section of society in my line of sight.

Taking out my camera and adjusting my lens, I smiled a little, thinking how great it was to have the day off and to be spending it in Seattle; how this was just the beginning of my first day and how I had an entire trip in front of me. I lifted my camera and focused– Stay tuned for the next segment of my trip.

Places I visited in Seattle and featured in my blog: Pike Place Market, the Space Needle, Seattle Center, Olympic Sculpture Park, Chihuly Garden and Glass and PhinneyWood.

Footnotes:

Besides the obvious: baggage fees, security, no leg room, not getting caught counting how many bloody mary’s my seat mates have consumed, etc.
A Ferry boat ride to Whidbey Island, strolling through the Chinatown International District, a morning run around Lake Union, a day in the Woodinville Wine Country– I could go on for awhile.
Yes, I know they’re referring to the ingredients, but I kind of like the idea of my breakfast having a moral compass. My honest biscuit, my forthright bacon, my stalwart eggs, etc.

Last week, while my friend drove me to the Philadelphia airport to fly to Seattle, Washington, I kept up a steady stream of chatter to try to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. I was nervous which isn’t really that different for me, so I’ll say more nervous than usual. I was about to embark on a trip which was definitely outside of my comfort zone, let alone the eastern time zone, and I had a number of concerns:

I planned a road trip with my college roommate, currently living in Seattle, who I had not spent a significant amount of alone time with in almost 10 years. The road trip was to begin and end in Seattle with stops in Portland, Talent, Ashland, Tillamook Oregon and Gasquet California. Not only was it important to me that the trip go well, I felt that the outcome of the trip would be a significant indicator of the status of our friendship going forward. Would we be those stylish old broads in floppy hats and Jackie-O sunglasses thirty years from now on a train to Milan if I drove her batty with my obsessive picture taking on this trip? I had my doubts.
Believe it or not, this was my first time flying by myself. Me, navigating public transportation, is a lot like me trying to solve a geometry problem; I make a stupid mistake and then spend a good 20 minutes trying to figure out where I went wrong. Arriving on time, checking my bag, clearing security, finding my gate, successfully boarding the plane, and not getting sick on the plane mid-air– was as daunting as the Pythagorean theorem to me.
All of our reservations were made at Air B&B’s. Now I agreed to this in the spirit of saving money, and also to save money. Did I mention saving money? I am a person who has watched about a baker’s dozen too many Law & Order episodes to feel entirely comfortable with the idea of of staying in a stranger’s spare bedroom in Portland, a tent in Talent, or a remote village in Gasquet. Details such as compost toilets, outdoor showers, chicken and goat pens, and warnings about being awoken by roosters crowing and “element of roughing it” sounded about as appealing to me as a trip to the dentist. BUT... in for a penny, in for a pound, right? I crossed my fingers, as my friend booked our air B&B’s, and tried to take comfort in the fact that, Law & Order not withstanding, our trip was now guaranteed a good story or two.
In terms of street photography on this trip, I had given myself the task of actually talking to people instead of taking photos of them from a block away, curtsey of my telephoto lens. Although the former sounds like it should be ridiculously easy and the latter kind of creepy, I find it to be a challenge. From a distance, you can observe and photograph without interrupting or disturbing your subject. From up close, the subject is aware of you and the camera and that can change the whole dynamic of the photo, for better or worse. Plus you have to make small talk, an art form onto it’s own. This was definitely going to be interesting.

As I stepped out of the car, on the curb in front of the sign for US Airlines, I reflected, not for the first time, on how much I must really love to travel despite airports, social anxiety, irrational fears, rational fears, an abhorrence of packing, and sense of direction that could rival a toddler with an ear infection. And yet, I do all of that and more, to see someplace new, to see someone I love, to travel outside of my comfort zone. Stay tuned for the next segment of my trip.