No Rain

Dear Diary,

I arrived in Seattle yesterday morning after driving my fellow Delta passenger insane by excitedly telling her over and over that I could see the Space Needle. She smiled good naturedly and I blamed my weirdness on the Dramamine. But you know it's not the lovely motion-sickness pills fault.

Yesterday I arrived at the hostel, which is significantly more decadent than several of the motels I stayed in last. Today I am on household duty which involves cleaning rooms (they call it "hoovering" here as opposed to "vacuuming" which is just one of the strange-isms I've come across so far). which I'm told is the kind of work I'd being doing in my own apartment. Well. "Should be doing" I believe would be a more accurate description.

I was swept off my feet by an adorable local last night who gave me a walking tour of Capitol Hill, and we went to see The Walkmen at the Crocodile. The Walkmen are a fantastic band and it made up for the fact that when they finished their set, I celebrated 24 hours on my feet. Adrenaline is a potent drug.

The Crocodile is a slick venue, with weird paper mache insects hanging from the ceiling -- it's part bar, part music venue, half diner. It smells like ketchup and beer. PBR is pretty big out here so this town is a lot like a giant Central Square. My lanka local tour guide tells me that the fables about the weather here are twofold: they were partially created by Seattlites to keep Easterners out, and partially created by Californians who live in a climate vacuum. Excuse me, climate hoover. I have also been advised that jay-walking is not allowed.

A few observations I have made: there are mountains here. They look like those cheesey backdrops from sitcoms -- the sheets they pull down to make it look like the person is standing in an Alpine forest or similar. It's unreal. So beautiful. Secondly, it smells wonderful here. A mix of water and coffee. Maybe the coffee part because I've been pounding it since I de-planed and it's leaking from my pores. Thirdly, everyone here is tall. I have never felt of average height before in my life, but last night standing amidst a sea of well-fed, twinkly eyed, music-loving boys, I felt downright short.

I love this city.