Even in Kyoto

I grew up 2 blocks away from the Washington State Arboretum, which is to say I basically grew up in the Washington State Arboretum. From a young age friends and I were allowed to just run over there and play. Apparently the Arboretum is turning 90 years old this year. Over the past decade or so, there have been some major efforts to improve parts of the Arboretum, most especially through the addition of a paved cycling path. I'm happy to see so many people continuing to appreciate the park and spend time there.

But I still mostly just love it for the old, familiar spots.

The pedestrian bridge which is how we would get into the main portion of the park from where I lived:


Of course, when younger I also spent a lot of time just playing underneath this bridge, too.

A sense of the wintry views along/near Azalea Way:


Apparently now Forest School is an organized activity instead of an unsupervised free-for-all. The sign is to request that passers-by not photograph the children when school is in session.


A favorite pond:


A good little beach near the bridge to Foster Island, where there are often great blue herons to watch, and ducks to feed (except now, it's no longer appropriate to feed the ducks I guess):


Where the path travels beneath the 520 bridge it has changed tremendously due to bridge reconstruction, but also including the appearance of this beaver mound, one of two in the area:



Looking out at Union Bay from the Foster Island Point. It's amazing how calm the lake water can be some days.


I swear that the floating sections of the Foster Island trail have had an outsize influence on my dreams over the years. It is most fun to see the water from boat wakes slop up between the cracks, although this particular day there was hardly any boat traffic at all. This is also a good spot to watch ducks and also swallows in the summer as they fly around catching insects.


A view of the actual ASUW Shell House on the far side of the Montlake Cut:


If you read The Boys in the Boat or see the movie, this is the boathouse that the University of Washington rowers used to row out of, where George Pocock had his boatbuilding workshop upstairs. The film wasn't actually filmed in Seattle because of how much of the shoreline around the boathouse has been developed as compared to 1934-36. For example, the Husky Stadium behind the Shell House got rebuilt when I was a kid, after the first build crumpled midway through the construction process. The filmmakers reconstructed the Shell House at the film site in England.

Historic plaque about the nearby Montlake Bridge, which I think has also inspired a number of dream elements for me over the years - the Bridge, not the plaque:


If you can't read it, it notes that the Montlake Cut was completed in 1917, with the bridge built in 1925-26. You can see the bridge in the background in a couple of shots in the Boys in the Boat. The Montlake Cut connected Lake Washington to Lake Union, creating a shipping channel between the lakes, and also creating a dramatic 500m sprint race course finish segment that I still haven't ever personally gotten to race along.

View from the top of the Montlake Bridge:


This year, the winter mosses, lichen, and fungi really stand out to me.




Quietly lush.






Plus the fact that apparently it's already spring in Seattle.


This is likely too soon. New York will be cold and snowy when I return.

Folklife: Come for the music, stay for the people-watching.

Flickr is crashing right now, so I suppose I'll have to upload a small handful of photos and video clips later. I guess everybody had a fun 3-day weekend and is now busy posting about it on the internet, heh.

1. slydevil wasn't kidding about the tie-dye chainmail. My mom enjoyed reminiscing about all the various things acquired at previous Folklifes as she browsed among the booths this year.

2. Mmm, festival food. I had some obligatory shortcake. It was very sweet.

3. My heart lifts a little as I watch hordes of small children jumping up and down to the music at the Fountain Lawn Stage. Someone had chalked in "Universal Healthcare" in giant rainbow letters around the fountain.

4. A church member's daughter is in a "Latin Pop Surf Sounds" band called The Pazific, which played today in the KEXP Gathering Space. The theme of the day is, when the music starts playing, people get up and dance in front of the stage.

5. Norwegian folk dance. Admirable knickers. Much more sedate.

6. I was hoping to see some Diwali dance, but apparently it was scheduled to start at 3:30, not 3 pm, as listed in the program, and there were other things I wanted to see starting at 3:30.

7. Instead, I caught the tail end of Pachanga Alert!, nice Latin American music, and then got to hear the Simba Youth Marimba Ensemble, followed by the Anzanga Marimba Ensemble. Lovely, upbeat Zimbabwe marimba music. Apparently the Azanga Marimba Ensemble has been performing at Folklife for over 30 years. Some beautiful, complex tunes mixed in there. I favor classical music played on marimbas, but the traditional marimba music is all right, too.

8. Bumped into my parents, eating dinner while sitting on a bench. Scarfed down some Kenyan vegetable curry, then scurried off to watch some flamenco dancers, with stomping, tapping shoes, twirly skirts, and an impressive fringed shawl.

9. Then off to hear VamoLa!, a Brazilian Drum and Dance Ensemble. Oh, they made my heart so happy. I guess it was a preview show in advance of HONK! Fest West. Best part of the day, hands down.

10. Listened to Filthy Femcorps for a little bit after that (all-woman marching band), but started getting tired and VamoLa! is a hard act to follow, so it was time to take the bus home. Also, all of the marijuana smoke was really starting to get to me. I wish people would just do that stuff at home and not in public (illegally) where I have to breathe it. Blech. Worse than cigarette smoke, and that's saying something.

As someone commented at some point during the day, Folklife restores one's faith in Seattle. I hope it persists for at least another 47 years.

Finally getting caught up on photos, but at the same time my left arm informs me I should minimize computer use for a while if I can.

( Clicky for photos... )

Presented without much further ado, because "further ado" would mean more work to the point where I probably wouldn't get around to actually posting.


Monday, April 14


My father keeps a voice recorder handy on bicycle rides - easier than stopping and pulling out a pencil and paper when thoughts occur. At the beginning of each coffeeshop bike ride, he pauses to note the starting time and temperature (according to a thermometer on the side of the house, which may have questionable accuracy).

After our stop at a coffeeshop in Georgetown for breakfast, my father headed back home for a class at the U, and I headed onward towards Enumclaw, to visit my grandfather.

It was a glorious, glorious day for a bike ride. The pavement was flat and smooth (no speed-sucker!), the bike felt light and swift and fast, the air was clear, the sun was shining.

Presently, I found myself south of Tukwila, on the Interurban Trail, headed towards Auburn, when I came upon this:


A train blocking the track. The signs read:


I know better than to climb between train cars, but while I stood there, pondering my options, a bicyclist appeared on the stairways of one of the locomotives, carrying his bicycle up and over the train. At least he wasn't in between the cars, where the jolting force of movement can have severe and deadly consequences for anyone foolish enough to attempt crossing. He advised me of a detour around the train.

I stopped for a second breakfast in Auburn (decaf latte and a chocolate-chip cookie), and then headed towards the Green River Valley.


At the end of this seven-mile stretch, there's a two-mile climb up an 11% grade to the Enumclaw Plateau, which made me grateful that the Centurion had a triple chainring.

I made it.


And was rewarded with splendid views of a certain large, dormant volcano:

(Mt. Rainier).

And lots of glorious Washington wildflowers:

(This tongue-in-cheek photo is for trifold_flame). At least all of the dandelions can be put to good uses, like dandelion pesto and dandelion wine?

--

Tuesday, April 15

The following morning, annikusrex texted me to ask how I thought Bakery Nouveau compared to Le Fournil. Well! I'd never been to Bakery Nouveau, so 'twas time for another expedition. When I parked out front, I spotted a lovely bike frame that scrottie has been lusting after:



So I gave it a Bike Ticket (of awesomeness). Hopefully the owner was amused.

Then I went in and admired BN's pastry case:



It's a French bakery, all right. After enjoying an almond croissant and latte, I texted AKW back to say that it's a real shame that Seattlites have to choose between two such wonderful French bakeries.

They had lots of beautiful chocolates on display for Easter, including this lamb:


From the bakery, I rode along 15th, right past the overlook at Louisa Boren Park, and again, the weather was so fine I had to pause and admire the view for a few minutes.


Everything is so green!

--

A few more sights:

Tulips are in bloom everywhere. I only photographed some dark-purple ones because I like to imagine they are cultivated especially for Goth gardeners.






This guy is on a major bike route not far from my house. I love the chicken full of eggs on the back.


--

Lastly, a brief nod to my religious upbringing.

This is the entrance to the church where I grew up. I have strongly mixed feelings about the Catholic Church, but I would hope that most thinking and feeling people would say the same thing, whether they consider themselves a part of the church or not. One of the most positive elements of this church community is its commitment to social justice, as evidenced by this banner. On this Sunday, in the church basement, two tables contained letter-writing materials to encourage parishioners to write to politicians on social-justice issues. This church gave me the chance to see, firsthand, the consequences of war, on an eye-opening trip to war-torn parts of El Salvador. That's all the tip of the iceberg. I'm grateful to have grown up in this kind of community, although as with any community it experiences its fair share of struggles, particularly in the arena of how it copes with human sexuality. Ugh. I blame the Holy Roman Empire, but it has been a couple hundred years since then, so grow up already, church, and stop firing gay ministers.

Here's another positive element, though: during Lent, in addition to fasting, people are encouraged to give alms to the poor.

Yesterday, I went to the herp-a-derp part of Seattle: the Espresso Vivace across the street from the REI, and then to the Pike Place Market (note lack of possessive; if you put in the possessive I will gnash my teeth at you, for have you learned NOTHING from associating with a card-carrying Native Seattlite?).



I suppose it's spring.

A Thursday morning is a nice time to visit Pike Place; the throngs weren't terrible, so I could get in and pick up some Holmquist Hazelnuts to make more homemade nutella chocolate-hazelnut spread. These hazelnuts are particularly nice for homemade nutella because they have thin skins that aren't bitter, so they don't really need to be peeled (but in case yours do, see the info at the link above). I eventually sat down for some fish and chips at Jack's Fish Spot, and then headed northward for some dress-shopping.

I will just pause here for a moment to note that I am a fan of the Nordstrom Rack. I found two dresses I liked relatively quickly (one for annikusrex's wedding tomorrow!), AND a pair of shoes that goes with both of them. I refrained from buying the incredibly tall, sparkly silver high heels (I would die if I tried walking in them anyway), and the tall, fuzzy, hot-orange heels, too (too small). I was mightily tempted by some of the other bright-orange options, including an incredible technicolor orange stripey Kate Spade skirt. But one must draw the line somewhere, and I was already buying two dresses (when you are me and you hate shopping but you find two things that you like and that fit, you buy.).

Something spotted just before the Rack, on the plaza outside Westlake Center:


Some artist painted the trunks of all the trees a bright blue last fall. I believe the chain and lock are a practical item, used to chain up a tourism kiosk to the tree at night. I suppose the tree doesn't care if its trunk is blue, but I have to wonder about other lingering aftereffects.

Next, up to Capitol Hill, to visit Stitches. Escape from the herp-a-derp, although the derp is trying mighty hard to swallow that part of the Hill.



Stitches had all of the good parts of a yarn and fabric store - the parts that make me want to create things. Sew-on googly eyes, interesting fabrics, all the little hard-to-find quality notions. I live about a mile away from a Joann's Fabrics in Texas, and always try to get in and out of there as quickly as possible before I get too overwhelmed by the chintzy stuff and decide I don't want to buy anything at all, after all.

From there, I biked up and over Capitol Hill, and home through Interlaken Park.

-

Today, I went to a more civilized part of town, the U-District. I did a bit of work while sipping a latte in Cafe Allegro*, and then walked over to Artist and Craftsman Supply to buy a screenprinting kit. What a great store - I highly recommend it if you're in Seattle and looking for art supplies. Sometimes it's a good thing I don't live closer to places like that.

Between Cafe Allegro and A&C Supply, I got complimented on my Zombie of Oz t-shirt at least six times. You know, I actually *like* the Seattle Freeze, because it means I don't have to feign interest beyond simple acts like those. But then, I'm a native. I can just say, "Thanks!" and get on with my business.

I was ravenous, so I went to Thai Tom for some peanut curry. I want to eat everything I can, while I'm in town, because even the unpretentious food is light-years beyond the things I can get in B/CS, where people are generally afraid to add spices to food.

Then, home again. It's spring in Seattle, and everything is blooming. Magnolia trees are dropping their petals all over the place, the dogwoods are just starting to gear up, and everything is growing and stretching up towards the sun.




*I also had an almond croissant - I believe one from Le Fournil. If it was one, indeed, LF is slipping in quality, which is a real shame. Also, Cafe Allegro is putting in its own roaster! Help them do it!

In the few brief minutes today when I wasn't on my way to here or there or enjoying some time spent with friends, I spent some time thinking about what I want to cook this week. Last Wednesday or Thursday I had suddenly realized that I have a lot of red lentils sitting around, so I set out to find a recipe for a delicious dish involving red lentils. My initial thoughts were to go with the status quo, with some kind of red lentil curry soup, which would call for poring through Madhur Jafferey's World Vegetarian (a favorite among vegetarians and Scrabble Society members alike) or Bharti Kirchner's The Healthy Cuisine of India (known for its excellently titled dishes with names like "Vegetables in a Mingling Mood" or "Cabbage-Potato Extravaganza"). [Alas, it would not call for poring through Fran Bigelow's cookbook, Pure Chocolate, though my friends would all be quite pleased if I were to do so].

Instead of going through these two books, however, I decided to pick up the Cafe Flora Cookbook, by Caterine Geier and Carol Brown. This cookbook is packed full of the recipes developed over years by many chefs at Cafe Flora, a popular vegetarian restaurant in Seattle (Incidentally, I have never been there before. Hopefully this will be remedied during my next visit home). After some looking, I found what I was after, though until that point I didn't realize that what I was after was not at all what I had originally set out to find ("Curried Lentil and Quinoa Burger with Tomato Chutney"). [Interestingly, it actually solved two dilemmas simultaneously: what to do with red lentils AND what to eat instead of so many fake chicken-burgers (which are somewhat delicious and yet pricey and not all that exciting).]

And that sort of discovery is the first pleasure of this good cookbook, stumbling upon something that's innovative and unexpected and yet enticing. The recipes that I have prepared so far from the book ("Seitan and Vegetables, Mu Shu Style" and "Oxaca Tacos with Black Bean Stew and Tangy Swiss Chard") have used mostly familiar and simple ingredients in novel ways, combining flavors that I wouldn't have thought to combine, or using a different preparatory technique that I wouldn't have thought to use. Though they can be finicky at moments, that effort always pays off.

My enjoyment goes further, because along with the presentation of the recipes, the book also includes sections about different ingredients and tricks that most at-home vegetarian cooks wouldn't necessarily know about. There's a brief segment about Quinoa, for instance, which mentions where it's from and its benefits (a high-protein grain). And it has also just taught me how to make my own breadcrumbs from leftover heels of bread.

The Cafe Flora Cookbook is composed of recipes that are truly and healthfully vegetarian, and are delicious on top of that, showing just how far vegetarian cuisine has come from the days of Diet for a Small Planet and Laurel's Kitchen. Instead of simplistic, boring casserole combinations of complementary proteins, or dishes that are too heavy or taste like cardboard, the complementary proteins are thoughtfully chosen and carefully woven in, and consist of tofu only where tofu should be found. Where appropriate, the book also makes suggestions for variations on recipe themes, especially with respect to soups and pizzas, turning recipes into springboards for creativity. I think it may have just now solved at least two of my vegetarian dilemmas as well: what to do about fish sauce and clam chowder. We shall see if it lives up to these promises.

Every time I re-open this cookbook, I am grateful once again to my good friend C, who gave it to me.

And now I ask you, o readers. Do you have a book, cookbook or otherwise, about which you feel similarly? Do tell!

Tonight the air has that still, damp quality to it that makes me want to just breathe in and breathe in and breathe in because my lungs cannot get enough of it.

The day got progressively more exciting, perhaps too much so; annikusrex and I met up at her house and then rode over to Madison Market to pick out ingredients for dinner. The Market was uneventful, but as we rode back towards her house we heard a loud BANG! and AK saw a flash of light, and then we saw 3 or 4 people running away (it was dark, details unclear). We decided to ride back along a different street instead.

After we reached her house, she showed me pictures of her trip to Europe earlier in the fall, where she and her boyfriend went bike touring and visited the place in France where his family is originally from. It was good to have the time to see how she saw the place, through photographs of old churches and cemeteries and boats. I appreciate such old things so much more than I appreciate the shiny and new (i.e. the condominium factories that are popping up in every city). I love Seattle for its broken-down sidewalks and for architecture that indicates a love of detail and artistry, and by extension older places fascinate me as well. Things that are worn around the edges reveal so much more character than the shiny and new.

We cooked, we ate, we played Scrabble (AK won), and then the evening drew to a close and so CD and I caught the bus towards our homes. CD and I talked about what comes next and it was good to have my friend's permission and encouragement to do whatever the hell I want to do with my life.

And the air as I reached home--oh, the air! To breathe freely, and deeply, to drink of the air! And so evening comes, and the next day follows.

Today was a day of pure hedonism--I walked over to The Ugly Mug Coffeehouse to feed my espresso addiction and enjoyed a delicious (whole wheat!) raspberry scone as well. Then I traipsed through Hardwick's, where I admired some not-too-fancy-but-not-too-cheap upright dressers that don't use those annoying drawer roller glides (if that's what they're called) and aren't made of cardboard*.

Subsequently, I wandered over to the Henry Art Gallery, which is largely in the midst of a show changeover, and I am sorry to report that I cannot recommend the current show, which consisted of sticks held together with duct tape and daubed with mud. One piece had a redeeming feature: it smelled kind of good. But that was it.

After that, I absent-mindedly got on a 49 instead of a 43 and found myself on my way downtown instead of heading in the direction of gfrancie's house. Nonplussed, I disembarked and vaguely wandered about in search of buses that would head towards Madison, though I couldn't recall if I wanted the 11 or the 12 until it was too late and I was on the 12. Turns out, picking the 12 was wrong, though it got me to another stop where I could catch the 11 and I eventually wended my way in the proper direction, only a wee bit late.

Then gfrancie and I had various adventures in drinking chocolate-drinking (and pain au chocolat eating--oh my I have missed you, good croissants) and ribbon-shopping (I should have bought more--I came home with only two lovelies and they were such a bargain!) and other various forms of shopping (gfrancie oh so patiently waited while I tried on pants--someone should give her a medal). And then - luxury of luxuries - I got to try some of the rich, delicious Christmas cake and met Senor Onion live and in person for the firstest time ever! He wooed me with his big brown eyes and flirtatious bashfulness plus a hint of drool so you know he's the real thing. It's true what they say--he has a way with the ladies.

And now I'm itching to get my craft on--I might not be able to resist the urge to pick up some knitting needles and go to town on the yarns I have gotten. One can only play so many games of Scrabble, after all. I really want to make a set of leg-warmers that will make people involuntarily exclaim, "Good gravy, learn to shave!"

*Though they are made of some particle board, which may cause chagrin among some of my gentle readers (all three of you), but I've had a hard time finding anything that even remotely resembles satisfying furniture in AZ, so I'm grateful whenever I see anything that seems at all real.

Theo Chocolates comes quite close to being heaven on Earth. I had a very hard time not buying everything in sight, and especially enjoyed tasting their different sorts of chocolate to figure out how they vary and what I like best. Alas, I couldn't afford any drinking chocolate this time. Perhaps next time, heh heh heh.

I have also finally made note of the statue of Lenin (he has a lovely glowing red star on his head, presumably for the holidays), and have been reminded that in addition to a weird place in Arizona, Fremont is also the center of the universe. In case you hadn't noticed.

Though it is probably more commercialized than it used to be, Fremont is still pretty freaking awesome and fun.

I went on a walk through the Arboretum with my Aunt L today. I love walking through the park in the winter, though it's not quite the same with my Aunt's constant chatter (I don't know the polite way to say this, but she's mentally retarded and operates roughly at the level of an exuberant second-grader). My mission was to photograph crows.

As we walked home back through the neighborhood, I enjoyed seeing all of the snug, carefully crafted homes--the attention to detail is pleasing.

And now it is snowing!

And also, sytharin created a most fantastic drawing for me, earning the title of Most Awesomest Sister Ever.

Delicious Cupcakes

A Particular Crow on the line