Portland II, Seattle I

My last day in Portland arrived, and my plans of staying until the hostel's open mic night finished then getting an overnight bus north were foiled by the journey to seattle only taking 4 hours, and therefore not suitable for an overnighter, and anywhow the last bus left at 8.30 - so I got the 5 15 which as of course an hour and a bit late and arrived in seattle at 11ish. A brief walk through the night and the hostel welcomed me with an open-mic night of it's own, mostly dominated by boys that could either play the guitar well, or sing well, but never both.

One girl could do both but wrote very long songs and played about a set's worth. A man read a funny story he'd written in a totally monotone voice, and some guy from england just off the greyhound played a guitar piece. He was, at least, relaxed. I went to bed.

Next day I wandered the streets of seattle, and it seemed that at all times there was a queue of events or prettinesses waiting to work to persuade me that the world hasn't gone terribly wrong, but is a lovely beautiful place peopled by kindly, insightful species', working together toward a golden utopia. However, in hindsight, these were tiny things that wouldn't make any sense from a computer screen - just trust I had a real good time amongst the statues and people and music (and waterfall gardens and ivy'd buildings) of seattle downtown.

The evening was 'first-thursday-of-the-month-museums-are-free-day', or, as seattle has more catchily put it: 'all-access day'. So I went for free into the usually $20 music museum which for some reason made me run about like a child in a candy (sweety) store (shop), looking at each exhibit for 30 seconds maximum and then running off again. I felt innocently happy and enjoyed it, even though there was nothing of particular interest there (more aimed at non-musicians and jimi hendrix obsessives). Then i took the monorail (seattle, seattle...) to the big bookshop to see a reading of some guy's new book, which was actually very very good.

Thence back to hostel and a shockingly well-cooked and bountiful meal, and an evening of free beer, guitar playing and (un)witty banter with people I didn't Like, as such, but were interesting in their misguided and transparent pettinesses.

Another day another gig in seattle's central square, this time an excellent bluegrass/old-time american band, all crowding round one microphone to amplify their voices and instruments. This trick they'd got to a fine art, moving closer to or further away to the mic depending on what levels they wanted, and were deeply entertaining, for 90 minutes. However, the day wasn't going to match up to yesterday and a malaise (malazyness) spread across the sky, due to a mix of -this-weather-and-place-is-similar-to-england, tiredness, and such minor factors. So Hostelday, and then evening on a 'beat-walk' in he north of the city.

This was good. $5 'cover' and entry into six or seven venues (coffee shops or booksops or bars of art galleries) each with a band or singer playing. I ran from place to place and was surprised by the quality of the music (even the relaxed old man in the coffeeshop wrote fascinating songs - "he went home and called the cops/you don't meet nice girls in - coffee shops" amused me) but the best was a band consiting of that classic bouzouki/double-bass/electric guitar combination, doing Zorba the Greek & Folsom Prison Blues medleys and things much much better than that sounds.

Then today I settled on going to Canada, said goodbye to my friends Paul and Martian from Dronfield who had crashed their van, and booked my Ferry up to Victoria. Hooray. On the way from the ferryport I found the most perfect beautiful tiny urban garden. This was possibly the prettiest and most wonderful place I've seen so far. It's on Vine Street, if you're ever in Seattle.