There is a lot of fun in visiting some place, especially when you don't have to worry about any of the things that make trips a nightmare. The tickets, the hotel, the sights, in general: the planning aspect. I hate planning for trips. It takes a lot of time and a whole load more of patience. I would rather have my nose stuck in a book or more likely, in a web page.
When you don't have to worry about those little gremlins, it is such a breeze, a wonderful experience. In fact, I am such a worry-master, I worry about every little thing, and if something is less than perfect, I go ballistic. It is impossible for me to enjoy a trip if I have to arrange it. What's more, I hate to worry about the expenses. I don't mind spending the dollar if it is worth it, but I fret that I may be spending unwisely, and I do tend to get prudish and picky and all uptight; translation: I spend extravagantly, given the opportunity, not worrying about the consequences. Which is a big, big, big problem, considering the fact that I am just a student and temporarily unemployed.
This trip to Seattle was a dream. One day of high-strung nerves and the other one and a half days of uninterrupted bliss. The cute hotel concierges didn't do any harm either. Say, what is the ladies' counterparts of "Bird-watching"? I've been rather curious. The one day of high strung nerves was the jet-lag of coast-to-coast travel and also another major factor that I won't quite mention here. Let's just get to the un-interrupted bliss right now. God knows it sounds much more intriguing.
Well the trip was paid for, the food was paid for, the luxury hotel was paid for. What more would one simple, single woman ask for? I can think of a couple of things, let's not go into details, shall we? I had a great Luxury suite to myself, all the food I could want to eat, and classy service. I had missed the feeling of having someone waiting on you for so long. Being a student in a grad school on your own money, can really make you a plebian. Would have been different if I had Mr.Lodge, Mr.Rich or Mr.Gates as a possible parent, but hey, a student can dream, right? That don't demand a down payment, unlike your surly land owner, but then again...
So I have this wonderful feather bed that I couldn't appreciate very well because of the nerves first and then because of the fact that my body was so used to using a sleeping bag as my bed that it kind of actually complained about too much comfort! Imagine that! And I thought I'd never see the day when luxury didn't click well with me. Then again, here I am, writing about it. Anyway, I digress. I loved the room and most of all I loved the services that came with the room and also the very fact that it was like a wonderful isolation that I had not had for a couple of years now. Just me, my solitude and my wonderful hi-tech gadgets. JOY!
I relaxed, completed the task I came here for and then relaxed again. Trust me, this was well deserved comfort. And did I use it well. I feel absolutely revitalized and rejuvenated and some happy heart-things happened, and there was some not so pleasant issues, but overall I give a "O" for Outstanding. I think I'm in love with luxury all over again. Oh, the pain! The separation of him from me. I think I shall cry. Of course I feel sorrow. I don't miss people this much!
The view was great, the temperature was perfect, a little too much sun for my tastes, but I think it is a part of Seattle's charm. It reminds me of this beautiful and harmonious union of technology, a fast and slow pace; a great ambience. I think I am taken with Seattle. And ironically I was sleepless for the duration of my stay here. Ha Ha.
I loved the rolling green lawns with children playing and old people relaxing and it seems so bloody cliche, but it reminded me of a sort of yawning hills and valley scene. Why do I sound like that Andrews woman, who couldn't shut up about the hills?
The whole thing was like a great care package, chicken soup for the soul, a big kiss on my aching mind. I think it's all better now. I find myself smiling like a right idiot. I think I figured out the reason that cute concierge is looking at me in a slightly alarmed manner. Who can blame him? I am in the lobby, hammering away at the keyboard, smiling weirdly and practically set up shop here. I think I want to come to this city. I think I have found the place I want to replace NY with. I think I finally fit somewhere. In a place that has something for my every mood without having me empty my wallet and over-drawing on my Visa, and where the people don't think smiling at a stranger (and having that smile returned) is something along the lines of "If you see something, say something." I love NY, I really do, but sometimes you would want to smile at someone and want that smile back, for no specific reason, or you would want to chat up a stranger and not have them threaten you with several thousand volts of electricity. Okay, maybe I exaggerated that a bit, but you get the idea. A place where you don't hear children spewing obscenities instead of nursery rhymes, a place where people talk politely and at the decibel required, a place where I can walk the streets or take a cab after dark and not worry about having anything untoward happen. I think I found a place where looking over your shoulder is something not necessary while you walk.
A place where rules are followed and people respect pedestrians, and offer help if you need it, and where I won't be scared to lift my eyes and look around, lest I invoke someone's wrath for being able to see. It is like a breath of fresh air before you return to the filthy docks, and you know that you will treasure it, and long for it, and want it to never end. But too soon it does. And you hope that you will have that chance, maybe for keeps.
It's a pity. I love the city of New York. It is my home, and I love it like my own. She took me in and gave me a place to stay, and have a little bit of her when I am there. Too bad that most people respect her so little, and it is always the people. The people who are only beautiful on the outside more often than on the inside.
