Going to Seattle. I got up and puttered around the house, putting things in my bag, taking them out, washing the plate I’d used the night before, tossing out the eggshells and tea leaves in the compost so E would have as perfect a home to stay in as I hoped to find in Seattle. Suddenly, I really didn’t want to go. That happens to me sometimes, when there’s something I’ve planned for months, looked forward too and imagined but also barely considered in reality. Staying home starts to seem really relaxing-my apartment was so clean and bright, and all my clothes and art supplies were there. And, I really hate the first flight of the trip. Once I’m in the air for the first time, I let go of my fear, but the first one is anxiety provoking. For a few minutes, I let myself decide not to get on the plane. But A came home from his walk and offered me a ride to the lightrail, and I took it. Of course, because after all I am someone who follows through, and also, those plane tickets cost a lot. I always think there’s going to be good food at the airport. There’s not. A hemp seed bagel is not that great anywhere you buy it. The flights were smooth, and I got to Seattle on Friday afternoon. I’d arranged to stay in the Ballard neighborhood, in a little cottage behind some people’s house. The pictures on Airbnb made it look delightful, and indeed, when I finally arrived 3 hours later, it really was great. I wish I’d gotten to stay there longer, or at least taken advantage of it more, but I spent Saturday running errands and going to see the fish ladder at the Ballard locks. There’s nothing like figuring out a new city’s public transportation on your own while wearing a heavy backpack to make you wonder why you travel. The lightrail from the airport was easy enough, but there was a car accident on the tracks, and so it took three times as long as it should have to get to the Pioneer Square station. B, the husband of the couple that had the little cottage, had told me vaguely to take the 17 or 18 bus from downtown. It seemed like common sense that there would be a map or an information booth-but there really wasn’t. So I left the station and went out onto the street, where there was some kind of protest going on. It wasn’t very big and it was somewhat unclear what was being protested-in a less hungry and tired and backsore frame of mind I would have been curious, but the only thing I cared about was the 18 bus roaring by. I managed to find B and L’s place. B came to the door on one of those little knee scooters-he'd recently had ankle surgery. He talked a mile a minute, telling me about his daughter’s need for money, the weather pattern this year, and where I should go to eat that night. The cottage is L’s art studio. There were clay models, drawings and paintings on the walls and shelves of books. A black cat named Jasper visited me whenever I was around. There was a little bathroom, a futon and a sink. It was very comfortable, and if you ever go to Seattle, and are a responsible person, you should definitely stay there. Saturday, to my annoyance, I discovered that my iPod charger wouldn’t work. So I had to make the trek to the Apple store to get a new one. I’d had thoughts of not bringing it with me but I’ve got some long bus rides in my future, and music really is kind of necessary to drown out the noise of Cliffhanger or Anaconda dubbed in Spanish. So that ate up part of my day, but it’s all an adventure, really-I got to see more of the city than just Ballard. I also took my bike bags to Swift Industries, the place that I had them made, to get some new quick release fixtures installed. I ordered them online a year ago, and was too cheap to get what I turned out to want,. Swift is run by a couple who are the epitome of hipster bike kids-they’d fit right in in NE Minneapolis. Or maybe it’s vice versa. So I’m picking those up this weekend, and then I’ll mail them along with some stuff I won’t need in Ecuador home to MN. REally early Sunday, a cab picked me up and took me to the Amtrak Station to catch my train to Vancouver. It was a beautiful trip, part of the time in fog, part of the time on the water, clicking through neatly painted towns, and industrial heaps and farmland. I saw two bald eagles land in a swamp. In Vancouver, for some reason, possibly just chance, I got pulled aside for extra special customs attention. The uniformed official asked me all kinds of detailed information, and my answers, even as they were coming out of my mouth, made me sound like the earthiest hippy ever (although later, when I went to Commercial Drive, I realized that I am NOT EVEN CLOSE to that. Well, realized again.) “I’m in town for a natural fiber dye class at an arts center. I’m staying with some people I met on the internet. In Seattle I was staying in someone’s art studio. One time I had to testify for my friend who got arrested at a war protest. I’ve worked at a food coop for four years and before that I was on a farm. And what’s that in my bag? that’s bead work from the women’s group I worked with in Ecuador. And that other stuff? Those are my essential oils and natural remedies.” I gave him addresses and showed him my return tickets. He was way nicer than the guy I had to deal with when I went to Montreal-but seriously, the Canadian border guards are the strictest I’ve ever dealt with. My first impression of Vancouver was that it was noisy and full of exhaust fumes. But once I got settled in where I’m staying, and walked around a bit, I started to like it a lot. It’s very culturally diverse. It’s still really green here-it seems like fall has not quite arrived, and there are many natural foods stores. I’ll have more about Vancouver later. I’ll be here five days, and although I’ll be busy, I will have time to explore too. What I notice about this western cities is how neatly everything fits together. There’s lots of well manicured vegetation, small yards with lots of details. Just when you’re hoping there will be a path or a bit of sidewalk there is one. It feels a little magical. The houses aren’t as rambling as in the midwest. And neither Seattle nor Vancouver seem to be on a convenient grid. Maybe I just don’t understand it yet. I”m in the haze that happens before you get used to a place.