Last weekend, I fled LA once more and headed north, to Seattle, WA, the Emerald City. This time, I had a partner in crime - it's strange how much having a travel companion can change a trip. We arrived in Seattle pretty late on Friday night, attempted to navigate the public transport system, and finally capitulated and called an Uber to take us to our AirBnB in Capitol Hill. In other words, Friday night was a wash in terms of exploring, but excellent in terms of sleep - memory foam is the Business.
On Saturday, we bounded out of the flat and set off on our explorations in completely the wrong direction - the reason I should never be in charge of navigation. Meandering through Capitol Hill and Montlake, I was treated to breathtaking vistas. Seattle, or at least the bit where I stayed, is a peninsula, and almost completely surrounded by deep azure water, with the Sound to the East and Washington Lake to the West. It's also hilly, unlike LA, and so green, overrun by trees. And to complete it all is a ring of snow-capped mountains, and to the South, Mount Rainer. It's exquisite, a vision. The Emerald City is the first place I've visited where I felt as though I could actually live. In every direction you look, there's another, different view.
After a while, we got tired of being lost and hungry, so we caught a bus to Downtown Seattle, near the harbour, and wandered through Pike's Place Market. It's one of the oldest markets in the country, and it has a flower market brimming with tulips in all the colours. I also came across a terribly cool bookshop, with a terribly erudite owner from Persepolis, who sat behind the till chatting to / flirting with customers, and suggesting books. He took one look at me and suggested Jack Kerouac. True story. Finally, after circling the block, passing the original Starbucks, we hit Biscuit B*tch for breakfast biscuits, the longest I have ever waited for a meal (45 minutes), but oh so good. From there, on down to the harbour, stopping at an Irish pub for sangria, where we started a shouting match about South African history, and how it would have been different if Zimbabwe had been another province of South Africa, which morphed, as we strolled through a waterside park, into a shouting match about how to fix South Africa and whether I should stay in public interest or join the government, as if this is actually a dilemma for me.
We watched the sunset on Seattle from the top of the Space Needle, itself an ugly thing, but if you're in it you can't see it.
Saturday night was a wild night on the town, starting with fried chicken and waffles, and incredible cocktails at a gastropub in Capitol Hill called Witness, where the owner started the evening by giving a patron a lap dance - don't ask, words can't do it justice - we hit a gay club and danced ourselves to a standstill.
On Sunday, we hired a car and headed into tulip country - Skagit Valley, roughly 130 miles north of Seattle. Roadtrips with a good friend and good music and beautiful views are one of my favourite things. As are tulip fields, fresh apples and apple cider, sweet and syrupy. All nectar for the gods. Oh, and the apple farm stall operated on an honour system: 'Take what you want and leave your money in the box on the shelf.'
This was my second last trip. Last stop, San Francisco. As my departure gets closer and closer, I am sadder and sadder that I'll be leaving so soon. I wouldn't want to stay in L.A., it's more the people, the moment in time that I'm occupying. It's a happy one, and I'm loathe to depart. I'm trying to follow the advice I've been given by people back home: 'Don't leave before you've left,' but it's so hard to STAY, to remain connected, not to detach, when I know I'll be gone soon. This is its own sort of heartache, made all the more complicated by my excitement about coming home. Feelings are never straightforward, are they?
I will miss you, L.A., and all the wonderful people in it who've become so important to me. I'll be back. Watch this space.