City Sights – Page 2 – Sandy Barker

Geocached up

August 19, 2009August 20, 2009sandybarker

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So, I have landed a new job.

As soon as my work visa is sorted, I will be working for Groundspeak, who run Geocaching.com among many other things.

Geocaching, as a recreation, was new to me when I applied for the job. I researched it, and decided that not only did I want to work with the people at Groundspeak, but that I wanted to become a geocacher. And so I have.

Ben and I signed up right away – when I was mid interviews. He has one of the fancy schmancy phones that does everything – including answer the phone – so we were all geared up with GPS technology. We created an online profile, and searched for caches based on our zip code.

Voila! Over 500 caches popped up within a 5 miles radius. Um, yeah, let’s narrow that down a bit.

We chose one and headed out from our apartment towards the Seattle Center. Unbeknown to us, we had picked the day of a huge festival to find our first cache. Our first task was to navigate our way through the throngs of people all desperate to get their hands on freebies, corn on the cob, or beer in plastic cups.

We rounded a corner and headed down a ramp, finally easing away from the crowd. You see, when you participate in geocaching, you want to keep a low profile. No one wants their cache raided or stolen by ‘muggles’ (they have appropriated the term from the Harry Potter series), so you have to ensure that you are discreet.

Down the end of the ramp, and around the corner, the GPS assessed that we were ‘there’. Now it was our job to find the cache within a 15-25 foot radius, not knowing exactly what we were looking for, and all the while trying to appear like we weren’t looking for anything at all.

It didn’t take long. Ben took a chance on venturing a little way into the garden bed and it paid off. The cache was a sealed Tupperware container, and enclosed was a log book, which we signed, and a few trinkets. We took nothing, but left a coupon for free yogurt.

Success.

We were quite pleased with ourselves, despite the fact that the ratings for difficulty and terrain were both 1/5. Still, we were no longer non-geocachers. We went to a film that afternoon, and when we got home, logged onto our profile and shared our success.

Since then we have sought three other caches, two of which were successful. The third is located in a small nature reserve in West Seattle. We chose it because we had yet to get out to West Seattle, and it was deemed a 2.5/5 for both difficulty and terrain. We wanted to kick it up a notch.

We discovered a few things that day.

Firstly, geocaching gets you out of the house, which is a particularly good thing when you realize that you are still in your pajamas at noon on a Sunday.

Secondly, if you choose caches in places you haven’t been to before, then you get to go somewhere new! This may seem obvious, but it is delightful, nevertheless, to go somewhere you haven’t been before.

West Seattle gave us this view of our neighborhood.

We also discovered the joy of finding a cache that someone else cannot find. While we were looking for a Rating 1/1 cache close to where I took this photo, we saw other people looking for the same cache. They were following the readings on their GPS, trying to be surreptitious, and left after they had looked in all the same places we had. Only we decided to keep trying after they left.

At that moment I looked down and saw a small piece of paper next to my foot. I picked it up; it was a fortune from a cookie. It said “Your short-term goal will be realized soon.” I showed it to Ben, just as he put his hand on the cache. Cool!

The last thing we discovered that day was that you can try too hard.

We went in search of the 2.5/2.5 cache (that is 2.5/5 for difficulty and terrain). We had some notes from the previous finders, and we had the location in our GPS, but under the dense canopy of trees, the GPS was rendered next to useless.

It got us in the general vicinity, but we could never seem to get close to the cache, no matter how deep we went into the woods.

At one point I had climbed down a steep incline, fought my way through giant ferns, knocked down about 5o spider webs, and traversed a fallen log that was 8 feet off the ground on its far side. Nothing. And the only way out was to repeat all of that in reverse.

After more than an hour we were both dirty, sweaty and a little baffled. We went back to the main path, and even tried a couple of other small paths. None of them could get us any closer to the location marked by the GPS.

P1020888_edited-1 — Ben emerging from a path

We called it a day.

We walked back to the car, drove back across town and when we got home looked up the cache. One note said, “The position of the cache is visible from the main path.” We had tried too hard. We had been searching for a cache that would have been rated much higher than 2.5/5 for either terrain or difficulty. We had dug holes, looked in trees, and gone WAAAYYYYY off the path.

But we’ll go back. I want that cache!

So, as I wait for the visa thing to be sorted, I am learning many wonderful and interesting things about all aspects of the geocaching world.

I have learned that in Western Australia there are 1818 caches. I have learned that most people I know in North America are geocachers themselves, or know someone who is.

I have also activated the Geocoin given to me by one of the founders of Groundspeak during my final interview. (Thank you Brian). I have set its course for the UK, and then Australia in the hopes that it will find its way back to me here. Isn’t that cool?

And, courtesy of my new boss, Jenn, I have my own geocaching profile now under the profile name, Sandy (for those who have accounts too – they’re FREE!) . At the moment I share all my caching information with Ben and our joint profile. Perhaps we will always cache together, as we are loving our mini adventures, but this gives us the chance to broaden our individual horizons too.

So, this is a little insight into my new world. I hope to see you out in it.

A big bite

May 5, 2009May 5, 2009sandybarker

I live with an amazing person. Yesterday morning, despite a niggling cold, he jumps out of bed and says, “Let’s have tea on the roof.” So, we made mugs of tea, grabbed our books, and headed to the roof of our building to enjoy the morning sun, and our incredible view.

Yes, it is a little gray today (it was sunny yesterday), but we are so close to the city and the water that I love the view no matter the weather. That said, the next time the sun shines – more and more as we head towards Summer – I will take more pics.

Back to the person I live with: yesterday afternoon, suffering a little from cabin fever and too many video games, he says, “Let’s head up to that park we haven’t been to yet.” It is about three blocks from home, and is less like a park and more like a series of paths and trails that traverse the giant Queen Anne hill. The canopy of trees is thick, and the air smells earthy and clean. Walking the trails I could just imagine fairies and princesses doing the same. We climbed the paths to see where they went, and headed back home. The Spring blossoms have spread a carpet of pink over the neighborhood. I stood under a huge tree and jumped up to touch the branches. A rain of petals showered down, “It’s snowing pink stuff!”

Just a little excursion shook off the cabin fever, and the post-flu blues.

This is such a beautiful city, with many wonders – big and small – that we get to encounter every day.

This is on the drive home from Ben’s aunt and uncle’s house.

Woodinville is about 30 minutes from the city, and is a semi-rural neighborhood, with white fences, rolling green hills and dozens of types of trees.

On the way back from Woodinville, we make this crossing of Lake Washington on the 520 bridge. This was a day when the wind was whipping along the lake, and because the bridge is floating, the water can be rough on one side and calm on the other.

And sometimes we get to share this city with visitors. My mom was here recently, and we took her to Bainbridge Island. We crossed Puget Sound on the ferry on a beautiful Spring day.

The main streets of Bainbridge Island are filled with cafes, stores and this church:

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And the shores are lined with trees and houses.

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For $6 dollar ferry ride, which is spectacular in itself, Bainbridge is a little treasure close to home.

More and more we are enjoying the company of new friends. Last weekend, our lovely friends Matt and Crystal invited us out on their boat, along with Monica and Brian.

It was still and peaceful out on the lake, and for some reason we were the only people who thought to get out there. We had the whole lake to ourselves. This blew us away:

Ben and I had our king and queen of the world moment as we headed back to the marina.

These are some snippets from our life here in a beautiful city. We are not sure how long we will be here – another year, or maybe more. We just want to be able to say we took a big bite out of this city. Oh, and to our friends here: keep the invitations to those parties coming!

back on the horse

April 8, 2009April 8, 2009sandybarker

On Saturday, April 4th, Ben and I made the drive from Vancouver to Whistler in good time, despite the copious roadworks. Our accommodation in Whistler was ready for us at 9am – 7 hours before check in – which suited us perfectly, because we could change for the slopes in our apartment rather than the car park. The sun was warm, and the day would yield blue skies, which was stark contrast from the -12C weather I’d experienced my first time there in 2007. We had prepaid our rentals and ski passes, so were geared up and ready to ski by 10:30am. Not bad for leaving Vancouver at 7:30.

The only thing tainting a perfect morning was my nerves. I always get a little nervous before skiing, because I am relatively new to it, but these nerves were making it hard to concentrate on anything other than the steep runs of Whistler Mountain. I haven’t skied many places, but when I skied Whistler in 2007, I felt liked it kicked my butt. The green runs were steeper than I had experienced before and the bottom half of the mountain was icy, which means a novice spends more time slipping and sliding than skiing.

“Are you okay,” asked Ben, noticing my apprehension.

“I feel like I did right before we went sky diving.” I wasn’t kidding, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not talk myself out of that fear.

We rode the gondola to the top of Whistler and Ben had already said that he would ski part the way down with me on the green runs ‘to warm up’. I was happy with that, and by the time I was actually standing on my skis and could see the powdery snow, I was feeling more calm. The run started well, mostly because I have had quite a few more hours on skis since my first time at Whistler. Add to that the gorgeous weather, powdery snow, and a grinning boyfriend skiing next to me, and my nerves dissipated. “I can do this,” I thought as I handled slopes that would have scared me not too long ago.

Then it happened: I started having fun.

I let myself pick up speed. I tried more parallel turns (nearly there), and I took bigger chances than I usually would. I was loving it, and even laughed off a clumsy fall, which happened when I overturned and headed down the mountain backwards. I also managed a terrific parallel stop which amazed me. I didn’t know I could do that!

Ben skied off in between trees, because he can, and was pulling off a spectacular cross-country maneuver when the edge of my uphill ski clipped something hard, crossed over my other ski and I fell face forward down the slope. I put my arms out to break my fall, and ‘pop’ went my right shoulder, which is a horrible sound to hear when you fall. More horrible was the pain that shot from my shoulder to my neck and down the length of my arm. I rolled onto my back, and lay there, swearing. The swearing part was involuntary, because it was the kind of pain that makes you feel a bit nauseous.

Ben came back and helped me to my feet. He retrieved my wayward ski and helped me back onto it. He wiped off the outside – and inside – of my goggles, and I reassured him that I was okay to keep going. I cursed my clumsiness, and we got back to the business of skiing down the mountain.

The thing was, we had skied most of the soft, powdery snow. Fairly soon after my fall we hit the mid-mountain runs which were icy and more steep than those at the top. And not only did my shoulder hurt, I also started to feel the after effects of the fall. Physically, the adrenaline was wearing off, and I became shaky and weak. Mentally, I lost my ‘mojo’. All confidence was gone, and when we turned on to trails I previously would have attacked (in my clumsy, novice way), I was scared again.

We got to a major junction where Ben could get on a ski lift to more challenging parts of the mountain. I kind of begged him to ‘go on without me’. I wasn’t being dramatic. I just didn’t want to completely fall apart in front of him. He seemed disappointed, and I wasn’t sure at the time whether it was ‘for me’ or ‘in me’, but perhaps it was a little of both. He got in line for the lift, and grateful to be on my own, I continued on my way down the mountain. ‘Snowplough’ featured heavily on my descent, even though I have been beyond that for some time now.

I skied 2/3 of the way down, and came upon a gondola station where I could ride the rest of the way to Whistler Village. As I leaned against the bench in the gondola I let my tears of frustration fall. I had a stern ‘get back on the horse’ talk with myself, and I knew that if Ben was disappointed in me – even if only a little – it could not compare to how annoyed I was at myself.

At the bottom of the mountain I splashed water on my face, looked hard at myself in the mirror and shook off my feelings of self-derision. I killed time before lunch with Ben by mooching about shops, and when I entered l’Occitane, I was greeted by three Aussie accents. I spent about half an hour having a chat with lovely young ex-pats who were good company, and let me try lots of different products. When I left for lunch I was feeling – and smelling – better.

Over lunch, Ben and I decided that we would start the next day by riding the Peak to Peak gondola that runs from the top of Whistler to the top of Blackcomb Mountain. There were green runs from there all the way down Blackcomb, so I could rest up for the rest of the day and then start fresh in the morning. I was committed to getting back on the horse. I spent the afternoon alone, but not lonely, nursing my aching shoulder. We then spent a lovely evening which included the resort’s hot tub, drinks by the fireplace of a wine bar, and a gourmet Japanese dinner.

I slept carefully, mostly on my left side, keeping my right arm close to me like an injured wing. When I woke on Sunday and tried to do something simple, like pushing the covers off me, I knew I wouldn’t be skiing that day either. My should and upper arm hurt worse, and showering, drying myself and especially getting into a turtleneck all presented challenges and required help from Ben. To put myself, a relative novice, on skis for the day would be irresponsible. Damn it!

I thought of wasted money and wasted opportunities – to ski again with Ben, to improve my turns, to ski under blue skies. I so desperately want to get past the part where skiing is somewhat challenging and even a little scary and onto loving it. It did occur to me to stay in our lovely apartment and read, but that thought did not last long.

I suited up for a day in the snow, and rode to gondola to the top of Whistler with Ben. We then boarded the Peak to Peak gondola, which holds the record for the longest span between towers (3 kms).

The ride gave us incredible views, including those from the window in the floor of the cabin.

Once on top of Blackcomb, I took a few shots and Ben kissed me goodbye before skiing off.

I headed indoors for a hot cuppa. I wrote most of this post in a notebook while I sipped a hot mocha and looked out at a breathtaking view.

When the table next to mine filled with three families who shared a total of seven children under six, I made a beeline for the door. (I knew I could not listen to much more whining about who got the most M&M’s.)

The ride back across the Peak to Peak was just as enjoyable, and I met a lovely Mexican couple who put me onto Arnica (a natural remedy) for my shoulder. I sought it out when I got to the base of the mountain, but two days later am still achy and sore. More rest, some anti-inflammatory pills, and keeping up with the Arnica will hopefully have me back to boxing class next week.

The rest of our time away was wonderful. We had evening drinks outdoors because the weather was so mild –

and took a morning walk along a trail through the woods before we left.

I got over the disappointment of not skiing, and am keen to hit the slopes again soon – mostly likely in Washington, if we can make time before the end of the season. My turns are coming along, and I really want to get better. I will ski Whistler again some day, but for now she remains the victor. She is beautiful, but she kicked my butt again.

What’s that aboot?

February 24, 2009February 24, 2009sandybarker

We spent the weekend in Vancouver, Canada. I need to make that distinction, because there is actually a Vancouver in Washington State. We discovered this as we sat in the car at 6:40am on Saturday morning, trying to input a Vancouver address into the GPS to no avail. We were due at 10am to claim a ‘prize’ we won at a recent travel show. The prize – a trip to Las Vegas for two, including flights and accommodation – comes with the catch that we must endure a 90 minute timeshare presentation. That’s it. We were both adamant we could sit still long enough to claim our prize, and then have the rest of the weekend to get out into a favorite city.

Back to the car at 6:40am on Saturday: the address didn’t compute because we are actually expected in Vancouver, Washington, three hours to the south. Vancouver, Canada is three hours to the north. Bugger! We laughed about it. I had gotten up at 5:45 to shower. So there we sat – do we drive down to Vancouver, Washington (probably not as enticing as the one to the north) to keep our appointment? Or head north where we had a hotel room booked, and the expectation of a fun weekend.

We headed north. And called the timeshare people from the road.

A treat when we arrived in Vancouver was blue skies and a mild sunny day – the first I have ever experienced there. I suggested we drive up to Grouse Mountain, about 20 minutes out of the city. The drive there took us through Stanley Park,

and across the Lion Gate Bridge.

It was a busy day at the base of the mountain, which was understandable considering there is skiing and snowboarding up there, and the weather was beautiful.
The cable car ride takes 6 minutes.

At the top, we walked into the bistro just as it opened and claimed a table by the window. I had never seen Vancouver from this height, as the last time I had been up the mountain (last year with Lara), it had been cloudy and rainy – and dark!

But Saturday was perfect and we could see the city laid out before us.

We ate a leisurely – and early – lunch of burgers, and chased it down with a delicious BC Pinot Blanc. We have tried this varietal a few times now, and it is well worth a sip – or two.

Back on flat ground, we checked into the Hyatt, mooched about for the afternoon – including a trip to the hotel gym – and then headed out for an early dinner at Wild Rice. Early lunch = early dinner. We loved the food there, except the spring rolls which were flavorless and oily. We sent them back. BUT the Kung Po chicken was inspired, the salt and pepper squid rivaled that which you can get in Sydney, and the hot and sour soup was hot – and sour! Delicious. We also enjoyed that all food was brought to the table in serving dishes, so we could serve ourselves. Overall, well worth a visit, and is a runner-up in the ‘Best Asian Dining’ 2008 in Food and Wine Magazine. But seriously, the spring rolls need attention.

Breakfast the next day was a special treat. We headed two blocks away to Caffe Artigiano, where I have previously had the best coffee EVER.

Muffins and a bowl of smooth, hot, creamy coffee. Heaven.
“You brought reading material,” commented Ben when returned to the table with our coffees. The coffees were huge, and I knew we’d be there a while. WIRED for him. SELF for me. We sat, we supped, we read, we smiled at each other across the table in silence while we enjoyed our breakfast. “That as so good, I kinda want another one.” I knew what he meant. We could easily have killed another hour with another cup, but we needed to check out of the Hyatt.

Our last outing for the day after checking out, was to head to the Vancouver Art Gallery.

I know Ben loves contemporary exhibitions, and they also had a Canadian Impressionist exhibit I wanted to see. The Impressionists didn’t disappoint, and there were some extraordinary pieces, but the collection became somewhat repetitive. more interesting were the second and third floors, filled with contemporary pieces and installations.

I was struck by this:

It is “Skull 2008” by Kristi Malakoff, and is 12 feet tall. It is constructed of 12,000 paper flowers, which are photographs she took, cut out and then assembled onto this wall.
Here is a detail:

Those flowers are 2-dimensional, even though they do not look it. It was my favorite piece of the How Soon Is Now collection. There were many that left me cold, however. And wanted to ask, “Really?” One installation was 6 panes of glass lying on the floor. That’s it. So, in the spirit of ‘art is subjective’, I created some of my own. Here are three pieces inspired by simplicity.

ROTUND(a)

GOING DOWN

TOPSY TURVY ESCALATOR

Okay, maybe I am being a little facetious, but 6 panes of glass? Perhaps it was left there accidentally by construction workers. Someone puts a rope around it, and it becomes art.

Outside the gallery is this:

It is the Olympic countdown clock. It should say at the top, ‘this clock will self-destruct in…’, because BC – like many Olympic sites before them – is going into massive debt – to the tune of about 8billion dollars – to meet their Olympic obligations next year. I realize that because the U.S. government is throwing around figures like 782billion, that 8billion doesn’t sound like much, but it is. I do suppose that if we are still living in Seattle this time next year, it is very likely we will do our bit to help refill the coffers.

Our trip back to the United States took a bit longer than our journey to Canada – by 2 hours and 30 minutes, which is the amount of time we waited at the border.

People got out, played some ball sports, and the atmosphere was generally more festive than any other delayed border crossing I have experienced. The North Americans are a little blase about the whole border thing, I have to say. It will get more strict in June when you need more than a Driver’s License to cross from one country to the other, but my experience of border delays is ‘stay in the car, and do not make a peep’. Not so yesterday…

Ben stretching his legs.

When we eventually got up to the border, expecting to contribute to the delay for those behind us, we were waved through after a cheeky border guard asked if I was trying to smuggle in Vegemite. I played the role of the charming Aussie girl, Ben the chuffed boyfriend, and we were on out way.

Because of this huge delay, I had resigned myself to the fact that we were going to miss the start of the Oscars – the part with the big song and dance number. I am such a Hugh Jackman fan too. But no. As if by magic, out of the 100 channels we subscribe to, our TV was set the right one (ABC), so when we walked in and turned it on – about 20 minutes after it started – we could ‘rewind’ to the beginning and watch it delayed. SIGH. It was a brilliant end to a brilliant weekend.

Thank you, as ever, to my best friend, Ben, who makes sitting home on the couch as fun as a trip to another country.

Oh, and the title of my post? Just a little nod to our friends to the north. That’s what that is aboot.

4 degrees of separation

February 11, 2009February 12, 2009sandybarker

Yesterday morning, Ben and I got up and went to the gym. This is not that unusual – he goes most mornings, and I often join him rather than going later in the day. Yesterday, however, it was 0 degrees Celcius when we left the house at 6:30, AND there was snow on the ground. It is a four block walk. We both kept our heads down and our shoulders hunched as the icy wind whipped around us.

“This is not the right jacket for this weather,” Ben said through chattering teeth. I was trying to ignore how the cold bit through my sweatshirt – or ‘windcheater’ as they are called in Australia. It was neither warming me enough to induce sweat OR cheating the wind.

There is a traffic light where we cross a busy intersection, and the wait can be minutes. We were lucky that it changed just as we approached, and we crossed for the final block of our journey. The beacon of the gym lights glowed ahead of us, and we quickened our pace. As we stepped through the double doors into the brightly lit entry, the heat washed over us and we both sighed, relieved.

I headed to the cardio equipment, and climbed on ready to take my body temperature from one extreme to the other. The long bay of windows overlooks Puget Sound, and interestingly, the path that runs alongside the water. I watched incredulous as runners, covered neck to ankle, made their way along the path in the 0 degree weather. “Crazy buggers,” I thought to myself smugly from the warmth of the gym.

Later in the day the sun broke through the dense cloud. I had walked up to the supermarket, as much to relieve the effects of cabin fever as to shop, and the fresh air combined with the milky sunlight seduced me into going for a run. When I got home I suited up – neck to ankle – with running pants, gloves, hat, and fleece, and headed out to the path alongside the Sound.

It was chilly, but it felt good to breathe the crisp air, and to watch the sun slip below the mountains in a fiery haze.

Sunset over Puget Sound

I did a 3 mile (5 km) circuit and returned home, feeling energized. After a quick restorative shower, I sat down to write some emails. I looked at my desktop, where a widget proclaims the temperature in Celcius. 4 degrees. 4! Four little degrees are what separate me from the ‘crazy buggers’ on their morning run.

I feel that I MAY just be acclimating to the cold. Just a bit.

This morning when we left the house, it was -1C and snowing. Although we dressed better for it than yesterday, and I am getting somewhat used to the cold, I still say, “Roll on summer!”

All quiet on the Vegas front

January 14, 2009sandybarker

So, I spent the weekend in Vegas.

The Virgin America jet from San Francisco to Vegas was stuffed to the rafters with techie types all buzzing about the excitement of CES, a big-deal Technological Conference. Those around me were chatting excitedly about the shows they would see, the tables they would play, and how they barely planned to see the insides of their hotel rooms. I just plugged in my headset and watched TV. I was heading to Vegas for a family wedding, and I knew there was little chance I would be seeing The Strip at all.

I was right.

You see, people – real, normal, ‘I have a 9 to 5 job’ people – live and work in Vegas. In fact, once you get beyond Las Vegas Boulevard (The Strip) and the few streets that run parallel, you are pretty much in the ‘burbs. The streets in Vegas are wide, mostly 6 lanes, and there are apartment complexes, and housing communities and mini malls.

So, how DID I spend my time? My cousin Mary’s daughter got married on Saturday, and she found a quirky and cool hotel to host the event. The Artisan is just off The Strip, and when we first stepped inside it took a while for our eyes to adjust to the darkness.

The lobby is home to a baby grand piano, a fountain, and dozens of paintings on the walls and ceiling – yes, the ceiling.

I couldn’t resist a dramatic shot like this one:

It was just that kind of place.

In fact, just when I started to get used to the dark interior we were ushered outside for the ceremony.

Yes, outside in the middle of January – but I will come back to that later.

The reception was held in the hotel’s dining room, where we were served by an eastern European waitress with a thick accent and black hair to her waist. “Where did you think she is from?” my uncle asked the next day. I went with my first impression, “Transylvania.” I wasn’t kidding.

And what is a wedding without cake? The cake, in the wedding colors of black and purple, was so good I had two cupcakes – but don’t tell the bride.

We drove home at sunset, as it was an intimate lunchtime affair. As I sat in the backseat, I looked across all the dazzling lights of The Strip to the mountains beyond, and watched as the sun crawled behind them. The silhouette of the mountain ridge was beautiful. For all that Vegas in known for, it is rarely its natural beauty that gets a mention.

The next afternoon, just before sunset, I went for a run down to the local park. The park is encircled by a running track, and was full of families and teens enjoying the last moments of the weekend. I ran the track five times as I watched the goings on around me. I was completely thrilled to be running outside in the middle of winter, without gloves, a hat or even a long sleeved sweatshirt. I also had the pleasure of seeing watching another sunset under a clear sky.

Las Vegas is not just a city of decadence and glamor. It is also a where families play in the park on Sunday afternoons. But perhaps my favorite thing about Las Vegas its natural backdrop. The mountains are truly spectacular –

– especially when it snows!

[With thanks to my mother for this shot.]

Yes, it is possible to spend a quiet weekend in Vegas. A bit of shopping, a trip to the cinema, chilling out with family, and getting out in the fresh air…that’s Vegas, Baby!

All Quiet on the Vegas Front (archive)

January 9, 2009October 12, 2012sandybarker

I am digging through the archives of my blog and found this post from Jan ’09, which was somehow mis-categorized as a ‘page’. Moving it over to join it’s fellow posts.

So, I spent the weekend in Vegas.

I was right.

The lobby is home to a baby grand piano, a fountain, and dozens of paintings on the walls and ceiling – yes, the ceiling.

I couldn’t resist a dramatic shot like this one:

It was just that kind of place.

In fact, just when I started to get used to the dark interior we were ushered outside for the ceremony.

Yes, outside in the middle of January – but I will come back to that later.

And what is a wedding without cake? The cake, in the wedding colors of black and purple, was so good I had two cupcakes – but don’t tell the bride.

– especially when it snows!

[With thanks to my mother for this shot.]

Yes, it is possible to spend a quiet weekend in Vegas. A bit of shopping, a trip to the cinema, chilling out with family, and getting out in the fresh air…that’s Vegas, Baby!

Block head

October 4, 2008October 10, 2008sandybarker

My brain is starting to work in a whole new way; I think I am actually accessing brain cells that have been hibernating for the past 39 years. I am now calculating distances by blocks.

Formerly, I used minutes, as in “It’s about 10 to 12 minutes away,” or kilometres, “Oh, about 5 k’s from here.” But in Seattle it is all about the blocks, because Seattle is on a grid pattern. Ben’s apartment, soon to be my home too, is on West Republican (even though I am not one).

From here, it is 3 blocks to the supermarket, 4 blocks to the post office and a cinema, 4 blocks to the gym (other direction), and 6 blocks to our favourite Asian restaurant and the expensive supermarket with the great wine selection.

Blocks do convert to time and distance though, because 12 blocks is approximately one mile, but of course I work in kilometres, so as I walk these blocks I start doing the conversions in my head. “6 blocks is half a mile and a mile is 1.6 k’s, so 6 blocks is .8 k’s and subsequently, 8 to 10 minutes away – at a steady walking pace.” Ben’s work is about 14 blocks away, so 2 k’s and a good 20 minute walk. Got that?

Last night after work, Ben walked further into the city to buy something, and because he is not well, I offered to pick him up (granted, in his car). This is where the whole block thing gets really useful. Driving in Seattle is easy. Downtown is rampant with one-way streets, but unlike Sydney and Perth and even Vancouver, every other street goes the opposite way. In Sydney, if you need to get to somewhere, you may need to drive 8 or 10 blocks out of your way and then cut back. I call that ‘being stuck in one-way hell’. Here, the most you have to overshoot is one block. Max. Now, that’s thinking.

I use blocks for running too. 6 blocks from here, on Queen Anne Avenue, is the steepest hill I have seen since San Francisco. And it is 14 blocks from the flat to the top. 2 kilometres! Oh, yes, that is a punishing hill. I walked it the other day – then ran it – in chunks – a few blocks at a time. Doubtful if I will ever run the whole thing all at once. I am not THAT much of a blockhead.

Third Date

October 2, 2008October 2, 2008sandybarker

I have been very candid about my month-long love affair with Seattle dating back to January of this year. We had a rocky start, though. It was a Seattle rain storm that took from me a favourite hat and an umbrella, but we soon made up and I embarked on a whirlwind romance with the city. I loved its restaurants and vistas, its culture and its people. I was smitten.

We had a brief fling in April – 6 days of five-star luxury while Ben attended a conference. We flirted, Seattle and I. I dressed pretty, I let the sunny days kiss my nose, and we drank each other in. Brief, yet passionate.

Now I am back, and this visit is a little like a third date. Now I know I am moving here, Seattle is starting to let its guard down, and I am seeing sides of it I haven’t seen before. Some are delicious, like the nooks and crannies of the Pike Place markets, where Ben and I bought aromatic oils and spices the other day, and some a little too revealing this early into our relationship.

I went for a run yesterday, and waited patiently for the pedestrian signal to change from red to green. The roads are wide thoroughfares – 6 lanes – so this took a while. I didn’t mind. It was a sunny day and I was in Seattle, working out new running routes for when I move here. I eventually crossed and started running at a warm-up pace. I got about two blocks before signs indicated that the ‘sidewalk’ (I read American) was closed and I would have to cross to the other side. SIGH. I hit the signal button, then waited, and waited, and waited. The light did inevitably turn green, and a couple dozen cars waited impatiently – or patiently – I couldn’t really tell as I jogged across the street. Of course, now I was back on the wrong side. And I was in ‘Butt-crack America’.

This is my affectionate term for those parts of the states – here in Seattle, or anywhere – that do not exactly show the country off at its best. That stretch of road, just three blocks from home, with its cracked pavements and warehouses, its homeless wanderers and youthful loiterers, is almost certainly the butt-crack of Seattle. I kept looking ahead to see where the pedestrian bridge Ben had promised was.

Like a beacon in the distance it stood proud and beautifully constructed, unaware that it was in the midst of decay and mess. I hit my third little round button of the day, and waited, and waited, and waited. “Oh, come the F@*k on!” I was losing patience. So far my run had consisted of two sprints and a lot of waiting. FINALLY the light turned. I headed up and over the bridge which traverses the railroad tracks, and started my ‘run proper’.

It is hard to marry the waterfront parkland with the street parallel, because they couldn’t be more different. On the other side of the bridge are tracks for pedestrians and cyclists, lush green grass, and park benches. On clear days you can see across Puget Sound to the Olympic mountain range in the west. The frightfully large seagulls of the northwest, duck and weave along the shoreline, and fishermen lazily dangle their lines in the water.

Once I actually started running along the waterfront, my tetchiness eased and I hit my rhythm. The air was salty and clean, and the sun hot on my shoulders. I glanced at the scattered few who were lying on the grass and soaking up the late-season sun. They had the distinctive look of ‘locals’ – comfortable enough in their environs to casually lounge around in public. I wondered when I will start to feel like that, but this being only my third date with Seattle, that is a little way off yet.

I hit a natural ‘turn-around’ point, and started running back towards the footbridge. I had already decided to overshoot it and find another way home. I knew that if I kept running and passed the apartment, I would get to another crossover closer to downtown.

Running back towards the city lends a spectacular view. The skyline has its distinctive icons, but there is so much I have yet to explore I wandered with my eyes, taking in as much as possible. I am starting to place myself within this city. I am learning street names, shortcuts and landmarks.

Just before the crossover to the other side of the tracks, there is an outdoor sculpture gallery. It is a favourite spot in Seattle, because it is a junction of sorts. The waterfront, downtown and our neighbourhood converge there. It is 5 minutes from the apartment, 5 minutes from Ben’s work, and right on the waterfront, where cafes and storefronts jut out over the water. Oh, and the sculptures are kind of cool too.

Not long afterwards, I made it back to the apartment with the sense of satisfaction I have after a long run, but also with something else. I am getting to know this city, much in the same way I got to know Sydney when I first moved there and discovered its many delights and frustrations.

At the moment I straddle two cities. I curse the Sydney traffic as I crawl along each afternoon, and think about living in a city where traffic is much lighter, and ostensibly we will likely live without a car. However, I know I will miss the coastal walk between Coogee and Bondi beaches, because there are few views in the world more beautiful. I will enjoy living in a city where there are literally 100 restaurants serving the cuisines of the world, but am mindful that the minor frustrations will reveal themselves soon enough.

No place is perfect to live in, but there is always more to learn about, more to appreciate and more to love. I think I am ready to ‘go all the way’ with Seattle.

P.S. Check out Ben’s FLICKR page for some more recent shots, including views from our roof.

Falling in Like

May 11, 2008May 11, 2008sandybarker

I took my heart to San Francisco, but I didn’t leave it there. I tend to fall a little in love with cities. There are cities that I love all over the world. I love Sydney. I love Venice. I love Prague. My love affairs in recent years have mostly been of the north American variety, and include Vancouver (very passionate and too brief), and Seattle (developed over time and rock solid). I did enjoy my brief trip to San Fran, and I can see why people would fall in love with it, but for now I will happily commit to ‘I am in like with San Fran.’

We had two days there between LA and the start of our road trip. Ben and I both know that two days is too quick for such an iconic city, but it is just our first trip there, our taster. We packed as much as we could into those days, so here is 36 (waking) hours in the beautiful San Francisco.

The Bridge Coming from Sydney, another city where the bridge is a draw card, I was looking forward to seeing the Golden Gate Bridge in the flesh, or the steel. We started to walk along the coast from Fisherman’s Wharf, a pathway that took us up steep hills, and along grey sandy ‘beaches’. When it became apparent that Ben thought we were walking all the way to the bridge (about 11 miles), and I thought we were just walking to where we could see it, we had a minor tetchy moment, and then hopped a cab. This was of great relief to me, as I was fighting jet lag and the wind was doing my head (and eyes) in. The cab took us the eight miles remaining, and we were deposited at the lookout area. They have really spent some money here! I am sure at one time, this was just a semi-industrial lump of dirt that just happened to be under one of the world’s most famous bridges. Today it is a landscaped parkland with pathways and lookouts. The Bridge itself is stunning. It is long, proud and bright burnt orange. Yep, it deserves all the hype.

Galleries Ben and I discovered early in our relationship that we both love galleries, and we tend to enjoy the small, boutique galleries most. On the way to the bridge, we happened upon a (what is the collective noun for galleries? A ‘monet’? A ‘picasso’? How about a ‘da vinci’?) a da vinci of galleries, all in a row. San Francisco has a plethora of galleries, and the handful we visited boasted impressive artists, including Dali at Franklin Bowles, and Warhol, Picasso and Rembrandt at Martin Lawrence. But perhaps my favourite, was a smaller gallery exhibiting artists not known to me. At Dennis Rae Fine Art, an artist called Thomas Arvid caught my eye, with his photographic style depictions of wine bottles and glasses.

China Town We wanted to go to China Town for Chinese food, so we caught a cab on our first night. China Town was dead. A few stores were open, and there was only a handful of restaurants to choose from. We walked a couple of blocks, looking for recommended places, and came across a family style restaurant. It was filled with Chinese people, they were eating and they looked happy, so it was as good a place as any. Except it wasn’t. It was bad. We paid, we left, we tried to forget, and scolded ourselves for not having better directions. There are some spectacular things for sale in China Town, at shops with brightly coloured wares crammed into every space. I wanted to buy a silk purse, and maybe a paper lantern, but not then. I was not in the mood to buy something pretty.

Little Italy On the way home from our spectacularly bad dinner, we inexplicably ended up in Little Italy, which we found on Columbus Ave near Washington Square. “Let’s go in a cafe and order dessert and some wine,” I suggested, wanting to resurrect our evening. We chose Panta Rei, for no other reason than it looked warm inside, and had an Italian man sitting outside, who said “Bueno Sera” back to me. It was warm inside, and smelled delicious. We ordered cheescake and a bottle of Lapierotta Sirah, on the waiter’s recommendation. Both were incredible. The flirtatious waiter brought bread and oil when we’d finished the cheesecake, and we settled in. We took our time, and left a little tipsy as we walked hand in hand back down Columbus to our hotel.

Coit Tower On our full day in SF, we planned to go to Alcatraz. Once we’d bought tickets, we had about a two hour wait for the ferry. We wanted to go to the famous Lombard Street – the windiest and one of the steepest in SF, but we were a little far from there. A local directed us, instead, to Coit Tower, which is the highest point in SF. From where we were we climbed up dozens of flights of stairs through people’s backyards and alongside steep driveways. It was worth the climb. We paid the $5 to ride the elevator to the top – lots of Aussies and French that day. The views were incredible, and we could see Lombard Street, where we would go later that day.

Alcatraz We paid $24.50, lined up, caught the ferry, and once on Alcatraz, we were free to do as we liked and could catch any ferry back that afternoon. Just as the ferry docked, Bob, a retiree with a gift of the gab, was starting his talk on famous escape attempts from Alcatraz.

Bob moved the crowd of 50 a few times, pointing out various places, but the skill was in his story telling. We could just imagine the events unfolding as he described them. None of the stories had happy endings. Officially, no one escaped Alcatraz and survived. The rocks are razor sharp and the currents strong. We took the audio tour of the main prison block.

Incredible. You can stop and start it when you want. It guides you through the whole place at your own pace, and is narrated by a former warden and former inmates. I really enjoyed it. And of course, the most excruciating aspect of being on Alcatraz, is that is it SO close to SF. If the wind was right, inmates could hear the goings on of a city they could not step foot in.

Fisherman’s Wharf We stayed right near Fisherman’s Wharf, so walked its footpaths several times. We ate twice at a restaurant called Tarantinos – once for lunch and once for dinner. The food was outstanding, and we returned for dinner our second day, as it is positioned so you can watch the sun set over the Golden Gate Bridge. Spectacular. Try the chowder!

Tonga Room and Hurricane Bar There is a Tiki bar under the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco. No, really. After dinner at Tarantino’s, we grabbed a cab, and headed up the hill. The Fairmont in SF is really impressive, and decorated in a Parisian style. We entered the lobby, ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ under our breaths and started our hunt for the Tiki Bar. Could a bar like this BE is a hotel like this? It just seemed so incongruous, but we went downstairs, turned a corner and there it was. We were two of 6 people in there, as it was a little dead on a Tuesday night, but we made our own fun. We ordered a cocktail for two, with enough alcohol to sedate a bull elephant.

Lombard Street We hadn’t caught a cable car yet, so thought we could catch one up Hyde Street and then walk back down the hill via Lombard Street. The queue for the cable car was long, and we had just finished enormous Ghiradelli chocolate ice creams, so we walked up Hyde Street, which is so steep that your body is on a 45 degree angle as you go up. Paying penance for the ice cream, we grimaced at the people stuffed onto the cable car as it clanged past, “Lightweights,” I grunted. We made it, our walk up well worth it to see the novelty of a street where the footpath is steps and the street so steep that it switches back several times.

A terrific city. And in the immortal words of the Californian governor, “[We’ll] be back.”

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