Not an auspicious opening photo, but I had to snap this one so I'd remember to look up the term "vehicular sally" later.
Walking up First Hill now.
I peek through the window of this cathedral and am startled to see a cut-out of the pope.
Seattle University. I think the last time I was on this campus was like 1990 or so, when my very favorite Portland band was opening a free outdoor show for a cute, popular Seattle band that I had decided to despise. I hated their power-pop melodies; I hated their legions of fawning, starry-eyed fans; and I really hated that I had to go to their stupid show in order to see the band that I liked.
I cheered through the band I liked, of course, but then I decided to wait around half an hour for the hated band to start, just so I could walk out halfway through their first song, showing them they hadn't won the heart of every teenage girl there that day. What a bitch!
Anyway, as things turned out, years later, I ended up marrying one of the guys playing in the hated band. (Babe, I'm so sorry for walking out on you guys that day -- that was mean. I love you so much.) He's since told me that sometimes he used to get paranoid that there was this big group of music fans who hated his band and that there was this big conspiracy against them -- um, nope, that was just me!
Apparently Seattle used to have a "Mohawk Apartments." Now we have Haitian food.
Seattle Men's/Women's Chorus has a nice perennial border.
A-ha. So here's where juvie is.
My favorite deciduous shrub.
I took this photo so I would remember to look up "hawala" later on.
Lloyd's Rocket! I've been wanting to go here. I like their planters.
It used to be a gas station; now it's a bar. The portraits inside look like they might be a tribute to Seattle's old jazz scene, which used to be centered around here.
Hypertufa planters? Not as cool as the rusty steel ones, but still nice.
Now we're in Little Saigon.
Hau Hau Market.
Some of the stuff I recognize.
Some I don't.
I ate a chicken foot on a dare at dim sum once. It was disgusting.
Basil seed, chrysanthemum, and pennywort drinks.
You see lots of guys carrying bedding around here. They sleep in the green belt, a.k.a. the Jungle.
Looking back at downtown as I cross the bridge to Beacon Hill.
The Jungle, I-90. It just occurred to me that this coming-together of on-ramps is essentially the very start of I-90, the longest interstate in the country. It ends in Boston. (One could also say that it starts in Boston and ends here, I suppose, but that doesn't seem right to me.)
If you know where to look, you can see the Starbucks headquarters in the distance.
One more stop before I head home. Red Apple Market is the only grocery store on Beacon Hill. I used to be too fancy for it, but now I kind of love it.
Yum and yum.
In the Mexican section.
In the Filipino section.
But this is what I'm here for.
We're going to a party tonight. The Kris Pinot Grigio and the Taurino Salice Saliente are nice, but I think I can do better. I have the whole day to waste, after all, and it's not even noon yet.