It was freezing and wet in Vancouver when I wandered down to Granville and Broadway to catch the Quickshuttle to Seattle. I'd opted for 2 jumpers, and had a beanie in my bag, which didn't stay there all that long as I waited, and waited, and waited for the bus. My ticket said to arrive at least 15 minutes early, but I could have actually shown up 5 minutes late and still had the required waiting time covered.

I was hoping that it would be warmer on the bus, but all I could manage was removing my beanie - the air conditioning was not set for the cold Australian shivering in seat 31. It took us about an hour and a half to complete pick ups and finally make it to the US Border. Once there we sat and sat and sat. Me? I was just pleased that the bus was in the off position and no more air conditioning! It was an uneventful border crossing, I got fingerprinted and retina scanned, paid my $6 for the privilege and that was it - free to come and go as I please for the next 90 days. The whole process took us just under 2 hours - quite good apparently. Unfortunately we were still over 2 hours away from Seattle.

It was after 11pm by the time the bus pulled up in front of the Best Western Executive Inn. Unfortunately this was not where I was staying. I had decided that I would find a cab at this late hour, but as I was standing on the sidewalk waiting my desperation for warmth over-ruled my better judgement, and I started walking the 12 or so blocks. I was trying to not look like the tourist that I was, but I wasn't doing so well at hiding the bright red back pack on my back...I have to say, I was pleased when I got to the nicer blocks on 5th, where the nice stores with the bright street lighting were, there are alot of homeless people around Seattle. Subsequently I was kinda jumpy the whole way there - one guy I passed (not even homeless) said "Hi" and I braced myself to run...

I was happy and warm when I got to the hostel - which then became a nice little self-perpetuating cycle. Even at that hour the hostel was still buzzing, but then Friday night, not surprising really. The hostel was a little grungy, but the bathrooms were immaculate - which still didn't mean I wanted to eat my free breakfast off of it - but its what generally separates the good from the bad in the hostel world. I was in a dorm room of 6 and needed to climb through clouds to get to my bunk. I hoped and prayed I didn't need to toilet that night.

Next morning, not fancying the make your own waffles breakfast I headed out to Seattle's Best Coffee to see if the claim lived up to its name. Unfortunately I have succumbed to the muffin culture here. I love walking into a cafe and studying the huge array of flavours, and finding the one that just leaps out at you. Of late I've been favouring anything cranberry, preferably with bran, just to maintain that illusion that this muffin might actually be good for me. Seattle's Best Coffee had great muffins, but the coffee was falling short. Regardless it gave me the start I needed to hit the pavement.

First stop was the Pike Street Public Markets - more specifically their Flying Fish. One of the prominent fish mongers has created a very successful gimmick of flinging whole fish from the ice stalls out front, about 3 or 4 meters over the counter to the waiting papered hands of the guys out back to wrap up. The guys usually throw the fish back to the frontman who catches it bare hands - which is kinda impressive, as there's a bit of pep in those throws. The standing gag is then that the guys out back will fire a plush shark back out to the frontman who is 'not ready', and it flies into the crowd who think they've just been struck by 20lb of dead fish. The reactions are quite amusing.

Knowing that the markets didn't really fire up for a few hours, I wandered down to Pioneer Square, an older part of town with original red bricked buildings and an awesome book store that I would so love to convert into a multi-leveled loft open style apartment...Other than that, I didn't find Pioneer Square all that exciting; Seattle's coveted Seahawks home ground was there, but that was about it.

I'd also read that Jimi Hendrix was buried just out of town, but I was being a bit lazy, so just wandered up to Capitol Hill to see the statue I'd heard would be covered in flowers, and offerings of cigarettes shoved in the mouth. However when I go there it was a pristine bronze statue - not quite the edgy homage to Jimi I was hoping for, or expecting.

It was about lunchtime by this stage, so I grabbed something and explored the markets, now in full swing. It was packed. And I kinda kept getting lost between levels - there was no real structure to the place, there were just rooms and stalls everywhere - the levels were not even level. It was kinda up and down, and there were corners in corners but it was fun to get lost for a while. I needed a coffee, and being the birthplace of Starbucks I was determined to buck the system and avoid the chain store all weekend. It was actually easy - I think Seattle's economy is based on coffee. If the flow of caffeine suddenly dried up, Seattle in not a place I would like to be.

Next I caught the monorail up to the Seattle Centre, because it seemed like the thing to do. Its a funny thing - if you looked at it, and closed your eyes, you could really picture life circa 1962 when it was built for the World Trade Fair - it just has that surreal look about it, particularly as it comes through the Experience Music Project building as pictured below - I can't be certain, but I think that architect may have been on acid. I walked back through Belltown, loaded with bars, and couldn't help wonder if they'd been around long enough to have maybe been visited by Kurt Cobain, or any of the other famous Seattle music exports.

For dinner I decided to head to the Pike Brewing Co. as I'd heard their brews were decent and the food wasn't too bad either. I ordered a Kilt Lifter; just cause I liked the name, but it also turned out to be a rather nice drop. My waiter reminded my of Uncle Fester, but had loads of energy, a big deep voice and great sense of humour. He probably felt sorry for me eating alone and so made sure I was well looked after. When I left I had a go at him for not asking me for ID - he looked worried for a microsecond, and then practically laughed at me outta there, he'd already gotten his tip.

Sunday I breakfasted at the Crumpet Shop. It was something different. Then I needed to check out, so grabbed my backpack and headed out. I needed to fill in 6 hours until the bus left, but by then I was tired of wandering alone, and with the added weight of my backpack, I decided to try to get on an earlier bus. I just had to try my luck cause I had no idea when any of the other busses were leaving. Thankfully I was only 45 minutes early for the 1.30pm bus. I called the bus company and OK'd everything and that was that. Crossing back into Canada was a simple half hour process. In fact there was barely time for a bathroom break...It was nice to get back to Vancouver - not to be back in Vancouver, but to know that I was ready to leave it, actually.