We knew it would be difficult to get the RV in and around Seattle. We planned to park it and take the Bremerton ferry into the city for a day of sightseeing. When we reached Bremerton, though, we found a wine and craft festival set up in the main open parking lot. We drove around and around in circles, trying to find a parking lot that we could fit in, even if we took up two spaces and had to pay $22 parking fees plus the $22 ferry tickets. We finally found an adequate space, free, in a residential neighborhood about ten blocks from the ferry. We were already getting a late start. As we sat there, assessing whether we would want to walk the ten blocks, at night, after walking around the city all day, we saw a man chase his escaped pit bull across the street, yanking up his sagging, baggy jeans and carrying what looked to be a 40 in a brown paper bag.
"There's a Macy's in the next town," said Nicole.
"Let's go," said Mary Lou.
We spent the rest of the day sorting through the 75% off racks, enjoying happy hour at the Brew Pub, and reassessing our Seattle attack plan. We decided to drive closer to the city and risk staying in one of the few, poorly rated RV parks. After sleeping, we woke up early, drove to a Park and Ride Station close to SeaTac airport, with 600 parking spots. We took two spots, way in the back of the lot and hopped aboard the Sounder Light Rail. We rode past Safeco Field, with the roof retracted to get ready for the evening Yankee game, and got off a few blocks from Pike Market. Even from that distance we could see the people streaming in and out of the warehouse like space that runs along the harbor, hear the music from multiple street bands, and smell the fish.
We walked straight to the fish market to find, gloriously displayed, all the seafood that we had imagined we would be eating all up the Western Coast. There was every fish and shellfish imaginable, and plenty of it. Up and down the main market hall, we walked passed aromatic fresh flowers, dried fruit, candy, fresh vegetables, fresh fruit, local honey, jewelry, pasta. . . anything you could possibly want. We passed by a quartet of young boys in suits and shaggy bobs, looking the like the Beatles, and singing Beatles songs. We passed a guy playing acoustic guitar and singing La Bamba. We did stop to listen to the Zydeco Band, complete with a the dorky guy in a wife beater and suspenders wailing on the washboard.
We found the fish market where they throw the fish. Attendants, down at the front of the crowd take orders, pick up the desired fish, and chuck it to the weighers and packers elevated behind the stall. Watching the Copper River Salmon and Golden Perch flying through the air made us hungry, so we bought a heaping crab cup and a few oyster shooters. We popped over to Mee Sum Pastry and had bbq pork homboys and pot stickers. We really could have stayed there all day, but, we moved on a few blocks to the Seattle Art Museum.
The current exhibition was Nick Cave, which we had seen at the Norton, in Palm Beach, but absolutely delighted in seeing again. His 'sound suits' are crazy imaginative, aesthetically beautiful, and, when he actually puts them on and moves with the inspiration of the suit (rolling, jumping, spinning, crawling. . . ), the visuals are rollicking. To place the exhibition side by side with the, now quiet, masks and tribal dance costumes of the Pacific Northwest Indians, was enlightening.
We walked around the Sculpture Garden, passed all the lilacs in bloom (Mary had to stop and get allergy medicine), and found ourselves in the middle of the Seattle Folklife Festival. The park below the Space Needle was an ocean of young, spiky haired, pierced and bolted, skateboarding, guitar slinging folkies. They were all dressed in black, the only splash of color in the fire engine red dyed hair. They seemed sort of goth, in a grungy sort of way, but branded in North Face. We had fun sitting on the grass, by the fountain, watching the freak show go by. We made a few friends while we passed the time until Happy Hour.
4.00pm and we were sitting in the middle of the bar at Toulouse Petite. Fantastic place. Mary Lou had a Katie-Mae (pearl vodka, grapefruit, St. Germaine, Prosecco), Nicole started with a Sazerac. We had some Foie Gras with Pear Conserva and Fresh Crab over Fried Green Tomatoes. Switched to Moscow Mules (vodka, lime and ginger beer) and had Tuna Tartar and Fried Okra and Pork Bellies. We chatted with the people at the bar. The couple to Mary Lou's left looked pretty sober, he was a wine maker, she a teacher. But they laughed the hardest when Mary Lou asked the heavily tattooed waiter why he would tattoo his wife's lips on his forearm. "That seems like a totally logical place to put my wife's lips," he said, "Where would you put them?" He wandered off while Mary Lou made knowing, dirty smirks at the couple. The waiter came back a few minutes later, saying "Ooooh, yeah. Ha ha. Yeah. Good one!"
The bartenders were adorable, and Nicole chatted with them and their local friends, while Mary Lou chatted with a distinguished, older gentlemen. It was such a fun night, and we giggled the whole way home, until we reached the parking lot at the train station and found a man shining a flashlight into our RV windows.
"Can we help you?" we asked.
"We're going to tow this," he said. "You can't park here. You can't take up two spaces. Didn't you read the sign?"
"We're very sorry, sir, but we did not see any sign. With 600 spaces, we thought this would be the ideal place for us."
"You can't park here. Oversized vehicles are not allowed."
"Where are we supposed to park to be able to visit your fine city?"
"You have to park at Walmart or KOA."
"We are spending the night at Koa. But that doesn't get us into the city."
"Well, the people who drive cars around here have it just as bad."
He let us drive away without a tow, and without a ticket, but we were left frustrated at the notion of getting into in the city again. Mary Lou especially, was looking forward to spending some quality time in Seattle, assessing it as a possible retirement place, but the pain of transportation and the non-stop drizzle was really starting to put a damper on that idea.
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