29 April, 2006 (Saturday)
Vancouver greeted us in the morning with cold drizzle. We rugged up as best we could and made a final sally to the car to share out the luggage and say farewell to the girls.
It didn't feel quite real as we said goodbye in the damp underground car park beneath the Holiday Inn. As we rearranged our worldly possessions and ejected Emily and Lauren's bags we awkwardly made our parting jibes at one another. Emily projected her familiar bravado, and Lauren promised to stay in touch. With final hugs the girls lugged their suitcases out and we climbed into the Jeep.
A brief stop-over at Julie's place to retrieve Sean's snowboarding gear and my mega-suitcase, repack Emily's skiing gear inside my big ski bag, and for Sean to instruct one of Julie's housemates on how to use a lamp, and we were once again on the road.
American Border Protection
For a Saturday the lines at the Peace Arch into the United States of America weren't terribly long. Nevertheless we had to suffer the automated message advising us of American Border protocol and last month's exchange rate for 20 minutes before we were able to inch to the
Border Protection agent. He didn't seem too phased when Sean couldn't recall a permanent place of residence and was vague on destination, and didn't even bother searching the jeep. I guess we just don't look like the ruckus causing types. Instead, he gave me a form to take inside and fill out a visa waiver - thank you Australian passport! (Picture: Welcome to the border)
While we were waiting in line one of the Border Protection agents came in and beckoned out three of his fellows. Before we knew it they'd surrounded a white stationwagon, the agents hidden behind concrete pillars at each corner. Everything was tense for a few minutes, and I half expected the stationwagon to expode. No such luck. Instead, the agents suddenly melted away from the car at some unknown signal and it all returned to normal.
It took another 20 minutes of waiting in line with a whole lot of Americans and annoyed Canadians before my application was processed. The Border Protection agent looked pretty bored as he took my left and right index finger imprints and then mug shot. I didn't even get to see how I looked! It was $6 administration charge for my 90-day visa, and then we were back on the road.
The rain kept on pouring down as we drove into Seattle. The city felt quiet and grey, all tall buildings with hardly any people on the streets. Sean navigated me through the maze of one way streets, until we found ourselves parked opposite the Green Tortoise hostel.
Capitol Hill
For our first night out the desk guy at the hostel recommended Capitol Hill, a good 20 minutes walk from the waterfront where we were staying. The walk wasn't overly arduous, and we soon found ourselves in the middle of alternative Seattle.
The shops and bars were darkly funky, with neo-goths, students and alternatively sexual types wandering about. There were more than a few live music venues, but we were cover charge shy, being our first night in town. (Picture: Seattle Space Needle through some columns)
In the end we hit a few of the bars on the strip, soaked in some of the ambiance, and found ourselves in a little coffee and beer cafe called the Six Arms. It had comfy booths and stool-ed benches looking out to the street. We watched the human traffic plod by and found ourselves back at the hostel just edging toward midnight.
Seattle Green Tortoise
The Green Tortoise hostel in Seattle is a block up from the historical Pike St Markets. It's an old-style building with loads of character - echoing corridors, white-washed walls and funny smelling rooms. Sean and I got a bunk bed in the co-ed dorm, with lockers (no keys) underneath our bedding.
The hostel has a common room and kitchen, and provides breakfast most mornings. We were excited about the free breakfast, until we wandered down our first morning and discovered that it composed of toast (mainly crusts by 9am), raw eggs, apples and bananas. Not quite what we had in mind. I guess it was a bit healthier than free lead-belly pancakes.
When we arrived we were surprised to see how old most of the residents were. It was mainly middle-agers, with a large showing of Americans. No Big Whiteans, and few, if any, Australians. Everybody seemed busy staring into their own plates as they ate, so we really didn't meet any people in our first day there. A strange kind of environment. Definitely not the friendly vibe we were getting used to in Vancouver, but apparently the HI in Seattle is even worse. Go figure.
Still, it was a place to stay and the location was pretty good, smack bang in downtown Seattle. We had a room and wireless Internet access, and the front desk staff, while spacey, seemed to have a fair knowledge of the city. The question was, how long to stay in Seattle?
It didn't feel quite real as we said goodbye in the damp underground car park beneath the Holiday Inn. As we rearranged our worldly possessions and ejected Emily and Lauren's bags we awkwardly made our parting jibes at one another. Emily projected her familiar bravado, and Lauren promised to stay in touch. With final hugs the girls lugged their suitcases out and we climbed into the Jeep.
A brief stop-over at Julie's place to retrieve Sean's snowboarding gear and my mega-suitcase, repack Emily's skiing gear inside my big ski bag, and for Sean to instruct one of Julie's housemates on how to use a lamp, and we were once again on the road.
American Border Protection
For a Saturday the lines at the Peace Arch into the United States of America weren't terribly long. Nevertheless we had to suffer the automated message advising us of American Border protocol and last month's exchange rate for 20 minutes before we were able to inch to the
Border Protection agent. He didn't seem too phased when Sean couldn't recall a permanent place of residence and was vague on destination, and didn't even bother searching the jeep. I guess we just don't look like the ruckus causing types. Instead, he gave me a form to take inside and fill out a visa waiver - thank you Australian passport! (Picture: Welcome to the border)While we were waiting in line one of the Border Protection agents came in and beckoned out three of his fellows. Before we knew it they'd surrounded a white stationwagon, the agents hidden behind concrete pillars at each corner. Everything was tense for a few minutes, and I half expected the stationwagon to expode. No such luck. Instead, the agents suddenly melted away from the car at some unknown signal and it all returned to normal.
Protecting US borders from people like you!
Border protection agents look pretty mean. They wear black uniforms, some with kevlar vests, and carry a heavy looking automatic on their webbing belts. All of them seem to wear ankle high SWAT boots and those cute little baseball hats with CBP stenciled in yellow on it. Of the ones I saw, all but one was middle aged and male.
It took another 20 minutes of waiting in line with a whole lot of Americans and annoyed Canadians before my application was processed. The Border Protection agent looked pretty bored as he took my left and right index finger imprints and then mug shot. I didn't even get to see how I looked! It was $6 administration charge for my 90-day visa, and then we were back on the road.
The rain kept on pouring down as we drove into Seattle. The city felt quiet and grey, all tall buildings with hardly any people on the streets. Sean navigated me through the maze of one way streets, until we found ourselves parked opposite the Green Tortoise hostel.
Capitol Hill
For our first night out the desk guy at the hostel recommended Capitol Hill, a good 20 minutes walk from the waterfront where we were staying. The walk wasn't overly arduous, and we soon found ourselves in the middle of alternative Seattle.
The shops and bars were darkly funky, with neo-goths, students and alternatively sexual types wandering about. There were more than a few live music venues, but we were cover charge shy, being our first night in town. (Picture: Seattle Space Needle through some columns)In the end we hit a few of the bars on the strip, soaked in some of the ambiance, and found ourselves in a little coffee and beer cafe called the Six Arms. It had comfy booths and stool-ed benches looking out to the street. We watched the human traffic plod by and found ourselves back at the hostel just edging toward midnight.
Seattle Green Tortoise
The Green Tortoise hostel in Seattle is a block up from the historical Pike St Markets. It's an old-style building with loads of character - echoing corridors, white-washed walls and funny smelling rooms. Sean and I got a bunk bed in the co-ed dorm, with lockers (no keys) underneath our bedding.
The hostel has a common room and kitchen, and provides breakfast most mornings. We were excited about the free breakfast, until we wandered down our first morning and discovered that it composed of toast (mainly crusts by 9am), raw eggs, apples and bananas. Not quite what we had in mind. I guess it was a bit healthier than free lead-belly pancakes.
When we arrived we were surprised to see how old most of the residents were. It was mainly middle-agers, with a large showing of Americans. No Big Whiteans, and few, if any, Australians. Everybody seemed busy staring into their own plates as they ate, so we really didn't meet any people in our first day there. A strange kind of environment. Definitely not the friendly vibe we were getting used to in Vancouver, but apparently the HI in Seattle is even worse. Go figure.
Still, it was a place to stay and the location was pretty good, smack bang in downtown Seattle. We had a room and wireless Internet access, and the front desk staff, while spacey, seemed to have a fair knowledge of the city. The question was, how long to stay in Seattle?
posted by the wastrel @ 8:11 PM
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