As I waited outside in the cool air, I knew only that Tandava drove an Insight, described as an odd looking car, and, through the convenience of FetLife, I’d seen a picture of him.
As I waited, I looked for an odd looking car. After about ten minutes, I saw it. I waved as Tandava saw me and parked.
For a split second, it dawned on me: I was about to be picked up by a person I had never met, driven away to a city I had never visited, and I was staying with people I barely knew.
Tandava got out of his vehicle, helped me put my things inside, and we were off.
All I wanted was hot chocolate.
The airplane had been cold, much colder than I expected. Thankfully I had dressed warmly, but that was out of mere practicality than an expectation of flying in what amounted to an icicle in the air.
Even through the leather of my boots (the most bulky item I brought) my feet froze. With one jacket on and the other draped over my legs (the jackets were my next two bulkiest items), my torso and legs remained moderately comfortable. But my feet were unhappy for the majority of my trip.
As Tandava drove, I voiced my request for my warm drink of choice. He found us a little cafe close to where MissAmyRed worked. I sipped my brew as we chatted and waited for her lunch break.
After savory crepes for lunch and fro-yo as a sweet treat, MissAmyRed had to go back to work.
Tandava and I had some hours to kill, so we decided to be touristy. He knew random trivia about Seattle, and I loved hearing all the tidbits of info.
First we went to a shop called Gargoyle’s Sanctuary, a hole-in-the-wall full of art and incense, sculptures and jewelry. It was a place one could easily spend hours exploring all the nooks and crannies. But there was much more to Seattle than one shop. We pulled ourselves away and moved on.
After dropping off my things at Amy’s house, we drove to the Freemont neighborhood.
It was a troll. An actual honest to god troll. Under a bridge. Holding, of all things, a punch buggy. That was when I knew I liked Seattle.
It was at least fifteen feet tall, but only the upper torso rose from the dirt. Adults and children alike climbed all over it, taking photos and laughing. A grin was etched on my face as I took in the sight.
A nearby plaque explained the sculpture was a project for the community, donated to the people living there.
After about ten minutes of whimsy, Tandava had me turn around. Instead of admiring the sculpture, I was now in awe of the architecture. The bridge above us, the bridge under which the troll lived, cascaded down a hill for hundreds of feet, art in its own right.
The air was cool, windy without being a bother. The sky was overcast but without being gloomy.
We stood on top of the hill, water far below us, kites flying about, and a gentleman operating a glider nearby. Sea planes took off and came in for landings. Duck boats and personal vessels skimmed across the water.
Across the bay I saw buildings and homes. Tandava pointed out the smoke stacks of a structure across from us. He explained how it now housed a medical facility, but in order for them to use the building they had to preserve its fascade, including the smoke stacks.
To my left was the remanants of an old gas plant, competely fenced in, over run with grass, a bit of graffiti high up on two seperate towers drawn by some brave taggers.
Behind me, inlaid into the ground, was a sun dial. Decorated with an astrological motif, it combined metal and stone and included a key as to how to read it according to the time of year. The piece, though only partially practical in a rainy city, was another bit of art for me to admire.
I looked around Gas Works Park. Saw people biking, kites in the air, families, a couple sitting in the grass together, and so many smiles.
Yeah, I liked Seattle from the start.
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