Car Less in Seattle

Antique car in the DeLand Mardi Gras parade

We're still getting used to the fact that people are surprised we don't have a car. Our neighbors keep asking us about our two empty parking spots. After talking, they start to envy us the fact that we don't spend lots of time stuck in traffic, or hunting for parking spaces or shelling out lots of money for gas and insurance. Such is the car oriented mindset that one woman admitted she has a membership at a gym because it means she can use their lot instead of paying for (and trying to find) on street parking. Personally, I always hated driving, and love cycling and walking. I don't mind taking the bus, except when it fails to show up.  I've learned not to try to get anywhere when it snows, but that was true for nearly every other city I've lived in. 

A friend who lives out of town was appalled.  "How would we get to Costco to buy industrial sized containers of snacks and paper products?" he asked.  Easy, we don't need huge quantities of anything - there are only two of us. It can lead to a slightly ascetic  existence. Every purchase is considered carefully. Can it be bought locally? Can we carry this home? Is it worth the bother?  Sometimes you have to be creative. I have cycled with small kitchen appliances and a laser printer strapped onto my little bike (not at the same time!).   I also took a Christmas tree home on a bus once, and pushed around all sorts of odd things in a wheeled shopping basket, or strapped to a rolling luggage rack. 

It's not as if we never use cars.  D. has occasional access to a fleet car, a zippy little hybrid, which is handy for a quick run somewhere that's either difficult to get to, or involves moving something too large or heavy to use our usual modes of transport. Sometimes we take a taxi, sometimes a kind friend will give us a ride. We also rent a car now and then to go out of town. The last trip we took was by small plane to Orcas Island. We were so pleased that we could get there and back without driving.  But because it was the off season, and our accommodation somewhat remote, we ended up renting a car.

Seattle from the inside of a float plane.

I was told: 'You need a driver's license for identification'.   Identification should not be synonymous with proof of one's ability to safely operate a motor vehicle. Besides, I already have a UK license (good til age 70) and a valid US passport, and just to have something with my local address, a Washington State ID card.  Our New Jersey licenses expired while we were abroad, so we have to take both the written and practical tests.  D. felt compelled to do this, and in the process he proved how difficult it is if you don't have a car.  The written test and the driving test are given at two different locations, neither particularly close to home.  He wasted an entire morning getting there, taking the half hour written exam and getting back. For the driving test, you have to have a car and proof of insurance for that car.  Rental cars and fleet cars have fleet insurance - the individual cars themselves are not specified in the document, and therefore can't be used fot the test.  Luckily, he has a very generous colleague who loaned him a car for a few practice runs and the exam itself.  D. now proudly possesses a brand new State of Washington driver's license*, but no car.

Meanwhile. . . I'm lusting after a bike with more than six gears and better luggage carrying capacity.

*I lied about that, they don't issue licenses where you take the driving exam.  So he had to go to yet a third office to have his picture taken, whereupon they issued him a temporary license and will mail him the real one. . . Possibly the most inefficient system (from an end user's point of view) I've ever seen!

Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been? I've been to London to visit the Queen

The Vaughan Williams Memorial Library

I have been back to London, but I had more interesting places to visit than the palace. It was strange, being back in the Vaughan Williams Memorial Library where I've spent a good part of the last decade.  I miss the place and my colleagues and friends now that I'm on the far side of the world. While I was there  The Carolina Chocolate Drops came in for a quick look around before the evening's concert. They were so fascinated, their manager had to drag them out again. We laughed about the irony that I came all the way to London to see them, and they promised they would appear in Seattle soon. Go see them if you get the chance or you can hear them on NPR.

A regatta in the snow

We've been learning about winter weather in Seattle.  Or the distinct lack of it.  My sister in the frozen north e-mails about  temperatures in the double digits below zero F.  Here, we rarely seem to get below freezing.  I was in the UK during Seattle's one significant snow and ice storm, though I got a brief taste of it the Sunday before, when a few flurries resulted in public transportation chaos. Admittedly, the hills around here are murderous when icy and the busses for the most part aren't equipped for those conditions. However, the  sailors were completely undaunted, and as the flurries cleared, they appeared as if by magic, on the dark surface of the lake. 

The rocket that didn't launch

For a change of pace we went to Florida to visit my family, something we always try to do in the winter months when the mosquitoes are dormant.  We timed it to coincide with a rocket launch at the Kennedy Space Center.  I grew up wanting to be an astronaut, watching night launches from the roof of our house, and witnessing the first five space shuttle launches while I lived in central Florida. Sadly, the launch was posponed due to wind.  But we toured the space center for nearly two days and still didn't see it all. Happily, amidst the glitzy exhibits, they still display an actual Gemini capsule with the scars and scorch marks from re-entering the atmosphere. 
One of the main attractions on the bus tour of the Space Center was the abundant wildlife.  The taped commentary droned on about an historic building to the left while the whole bus was looking to the right at an alligator in the drainage ditch, or an eagle's nest in the trees. Later in the week we took a long walk through the Lake Woodruff Wildlife Center. D. asked me if there were any alligators there, and I pointed out a mound of feathers - the remains of a bird after an alligator had digested it. Sure enough it wasn't long before we saw some basking in the sun, and turtles, and of course lots of birds.

Resident gator at Lake Woodruff

As we neared the exit, we met a man with a couple of poles and stout boots asking if we'd seen any rattle snakes.  I was happy to say we hadn't, since I was wearing sandals, but he seemed intent on finding some, and was well equipped for the job.  Generally though, if I see poisonous snakes, I head the other way.
After a couple busy months of traveling hither and yon, I am looking forward to staying put in the Pacific Northwest for a while.  We have started to hang pictures, make a few improvements, and clear up the last of the boxes, so it's beginning to feel like home at last. Soon we'll need to think about planting the balcony garden.  But that is another tale.

Wassail

Now Christmas is over
The New Year begins
Please open your door
And let us come in
With our wassail. . .

Reindeer enduring the invasion of the carolers

Don't let the silence fool you.  It isn't that things have been quiet, more like I've been too busy to sit down and write about it all.  Here it is, Plough Monday, and I'm only just looking over the photographs from Christmas Eve.



D. is at the airport waiting to board the red-eye to New York and I find myself without pressing engagements, rehearsals, performances, last minute cooking or sewing projects, packages to wrap or or send, or even laundry to do.  Phew!

View from the top of Queen Anne hill

Christmas itself was very quiet, featuring a climb to the top of Queen Anne hill and gathering free-range rosemary for our supper. But the rest of  the last few weeks have been a blur of singing, dancing and making merry culminating in the ninth annual Seattle Wassail.

Wassailing is an old winter time tradition from the apple growing regions of southern England. It involved traveling around the local orchards singing and toasting the apple trees to encourage them to bear a good crop.  Oddly enough, the first wassail we ever participated in was in Brooklyn. As far as I know not a single apple tree was serenaded at that event,  but it was a great excuse for a progressive party.

In Washington, apple growing is very important to the economy, and even in the city apple trees are everywhere. The Seattle Wassail took the form of a schoolbus load of singers, morris dancers, musicians, and friends progressing around Greenlake and Wallingford.  Following a schedule of pre-arranged stops, we sang to the trees, danced in driveways (or the street) and enjoyed the hospitality of our hosts. In a special event at the Meridian playing field, members of the public joined in the celebrations. Cider and apple cake were shared, songs sung and a huge ring of dancers of all ages circled gingerly in the mud around the apple trees.  Sadly your intrepid reporter was having so much fun that the camera phone lay utterly forgotten in the bottom of the bag. Suffice it to say, a good time was had by all, and given the energy and enthusiasm of the participants, we're expecting a fine apple crop next year.

Now we enter the deep dark days of winter, when the holiday decorations are packed away, the parties and performances are over, and the glittery, spangly, gaudiness is stowed away for another year. Time to focus on work and grimly hang on til February is over and we can start looking forward to spring. When we lived in England I used to think there was a good reason the second month was the shortest.   It can be seriously bleak and dismal. However, my sister in North Pole Alaska assures me that the days are growing noticeably longer, so summer is on its way.

Happy Holidays

• It's Chanukah
• It's the Solstice
• My mother's birthday would have been on the 22nd of December
• Christmas is nearly here. 

So many special days all bunched up together.  It can be overwhelming, or giddily exciting depending on your point of view.  Whatever you celebrate, may you find joy and peace. Remember those who are no longer with us, and cherish the ones who are.

Is this table supposed to be in two parts?

"Is this table supposed to be in two parts?" is on my list of phrases I never want to hear again.  A week ago we took delivery of the items that were in storage in Connecticut, some of which had a rather complicated and circuitous route to our door.  It all started back in 1997 when we moved to London. We were packed up by one of those high class professional international moving companies.  The type who insist on custom built wooden  crates for valuable, easily damaged items, plus reams of industrial strength wrapping material and special bumpers on the corners of the furniture. Our small electrical appliances, lights, power tools, D.'s ham radio gear and stereo equipment was to go into storage because it wouldn't work in the UK. That was the theory at any rate. A few boxes wound up on the wrong side of the pond and we dutifully dragged them around with us each time we moved. When it looked as if we were going to be in the UK for more than a couple years, we had the items in storage shipped up to Vermont, where D.'s parents had space in their barn.  Sadly, over the years, both his parents died, and we subsequently inherited family heirlooms, antique clocks, pictures and childhood mementos. These were packed up and shipped down to Connecticut along with the electrical items that had never been unpacked, to be stored for another six years.  No wonder we weren't quite sure what to expect when it arived. 

Luckily we had the foresight to hire the man who had maintained the family's clock collection to prepare them for shipping.  Everything else looks as if it was just hurled onto the truck.  A large photograph of D.'s mother was shoved unprotected in a box with a heavy lamp base (resulting in the inevitable broken glass), a pewter tea set (badly dented) was underneath the crock pot, the list of absurdities goes on. One particularly large piece of furniture has a broken leg, and yes, a butcher block table was delivered in halves. D. said I was very brave when faced with the destruction. But I think I was just in shock. 

There were unexpected surprises like seven mismatched chairs, and a hand-quilted wreath made by an aunt (just in time for the holiday season). We are missing one lampshade (the other was damaged beyond repair), several crucial power supplies, and possibly a toaster oven. Yet, through some sleight of hand with the various packing lists they claim to have delivered everything (something very fishy was going on with box numbers, and some things had been unpacked before they got here). 

What did we do after the delivery?  Went shopping for furniture.  Sounds ridiculous with a spare room piled waist deep in damaged furniture, but we still don't have a dresser. There was much excitement when we saw 'dresser' on the inventory, but it turned out to be a blanket chest.  With a big chunk knocked out of one corner.   Now we're waiting for various insurance companies to respond to our claims, before about half the furniture goes back out the door for repairs. At least we still have the view!

Moonrise

Anticipation

Warming up for our first performance

 I don't know why it is, but every year, I am surprised when December arrives. It's especially hard to understand how it sneaks up on me, considering Thanksgiving is followed by 'black Friday, when the rest of the country has a massive holiday shopping attack. Furthermore, I have been practicing with a carol singing group since early November. You'd think all this carrying on about virgins, blessed infants, and angels shouting 'hark!' would remind me of the impending season. So why did panic strike when I arrived for a rehearsal to be greeted with the spectacle of a Christmas tree occupying the corner were the alto section had once stood?

Make believe snow family in Florida

Christmas is the time of year when children are nearly exploding with anticipation. Adults too, look forward to the festive decorations, parties, gifts, special foods, music, and religious celebrations. I enjoy Christmas once it's here, but when the first of December rolls around I find myself groaning and wishing for another month to get everything done. Things are a little harder in a new town, when you don't know where things are.  Not having a car or even useful shops within easy walking distance means we have to be very selective about what we buy, when and where. We've already carried a few odd things home by bike (a printer, a long piece of weather stripping, a bag of potting soil). Not sure how we're going to obtain and transport a tree, or even wrapping paper. Or when for that matter.  I try not to think about the fact that there's less than three weeks to go!

Chief among the things we've been anticipating is a phone call from the driver of the van containing the various useful things like lamps, power supplies, etc. that were stored in Connecticut.  All they can tell us is that he will call about 24 hours before delivery.  We had a much more exact arrival date for the shipping container that had to cross an ocean and circumnavigate a continent. We're also anticipating the day when the furniture repair company will come to haul our damaged items off to their workshop. They say it will take three weeks to do the work,  so we're also anticipating Christmas without a sofa.

One thing we're both really looking forward to is that feeling of finally settling in.  That wonderful moment when all the pictures are up, the shelves arranged, the furniture in place, and we can finally invite people over for a housewarming party. I optimistically thought this would happen in November, but now if we're lucky, it might be closer to Chinese New Year. The tandem, however, is right at home in its cubbyhole under the stairs. Harry Potter never had it so good.

Thanksgiving

We are out of practice in celebrating this holiday after so long abroad, in fact the end of November snuck up on us when we weren't looking.  Some Seattle cyclists participate in an annual Thanksgiving day ride to raise money for Northwest Harvest. With fond memories of the London Christmas Day rides, we put it on our calendar.  While discussing when we should reassemble the tandem and take it on a shakedown cruise before the big day, it occurred to us that it was a little over a week away.  Yikes! 

The Saturday before Thanksgiving we put the bike together and after making sure the brakes worked, went flying down the hill. It was a bright, sunny, and cold as we headed for the farmer's market with only a vague idea of what we wanted. It's amazing what will fit in a large backpack and two saddlebags - potatoes, apples, beets, quince, several types of green food, smoked salmon, and a ten pound bag of organic potting soil, (for an oregano plant that was on its way from Cape Cod) with room to spare.  All systems were functioning perfectly and by gum, those eight extra gears sure make a difference on the hills.

We were pleasantly surprised that it (just) fit in the elevator. We used to have to keep it in its collapsed state for storage under the bed, and to get up and down in the tiny elevator at our previous residence.  Fine Sunday mornings often found us reassembling the bike in the lobby of the building, much to the amusement of our neighbours.  Now we can roll it out in a matter of minutes.

The forecast was rather grim: wind, rain, more rain and not very warm.  Flooding and mudslides were in the local news.  It should be just like Christmas in London we said as we dug out the waterproof booties in anticipation. We were up before the sun, breakfasted, swaddled in man made fabrics and out the door around 8 am. We pedalled off to parts of Seattle we'd never seen before.  Leschi was the starting point, and as we swooped down the long hill and pulled up next to the crowd of cyclists, I had the feeling of being distinctly underdressed.  No, we weren't cold, and no they weren't wearing formal wear, but I had an uneasy feeling as I eyeballed the expensive matching cycle clothes.  They went with the expensive ultra light bikes with skinny tires, unburdened by so much as a handlebar bag. Uh Oh.  The information on the ride said, 'Pace: Social'  and that the ride would keep together (instead of everyone going at their own speed). It was not an organised ride per se. There was no route sheet, and we only had a rough idea of where we were headed - a 25 mile loop around the bottom of Lake Washington and back via Mercer Island. 

So far, much like the London Christmas ride.  Except  in London, ostentatious cycles and athletic wear are generally absent. For example, a woman rode through the pouring rain one Christmas on a rented bike in a wool coat. At least we had our booties on, but the rest of our outfit was more sensible commuter than Lance Armstrong. We started out near the head of the pack of about 100,  only to be passed by every last one of them.  There are fast tandems out there, but ours is built for long leisurely rides, carrying a reasonable amount of luggage; not for speed.  We still have the bomb proof tires on it (for riding over London's shrapnel strewn roads) that have a fairly high degree of rolling resistance.  Their idea of a 'social pace' was about five miles an hour above our top cruising speed.  It wasn't long before they were out of sight. We compounded the problem at Seward Park when we zigged and the route zagged.  Deciding there wasn't much point to a 'social' ride when we'd been left behind without so much as a backward glance, we turned around and went the other way around Lake Washington until we were back in familiar territory. At that point the drizzle started and the wind picked up and we gladly pointed ourselves in the direction of home. Not long after we dried off the bike, tucked it into the cupboard under the stairs, and hung up the wet gear it started to rain heavily.  It was not our happiest cycling experience, but we saw some pretty back roads near the lake, contributed to a worthy cause, got some exercise and were in home with plenty of time to cook dinner.  

Blackened Tarte Tatin

We suffered from indecision about the menu. No turkey, no sweet potatoes,  and no pumpkin pie, but I absolutely had to have cranberry sauce (cranberries being extremely expensive and exotic in London, I really missed them).  Ours was a rather unorthodox meal:

Mackerel (from a Japanese supermarket)

Mashed potatoes with fresh horseradish

Cranberry sauce with orange and ginger

Creamed pearl onions and peas (pearl onions were also very rare in London)

Asparagus

Tarte Tatin (despite consulting several conflicting recipes it still turned out rather tasty, if a little blacker in places than is traditional).

When all else fails, consult the GPS

There are so many things to be thankful for:

After all the stress and upheaval of moving we're still glad we did it (and still speaking to each other).  I am also thankful for my family. I am lucky  to be related to such a kind, loving, and talented bunch of people. And then there are my friends, without whom life itself would be impossible. Chief among them is my beloved, the captain of a slow, but comfortable tandem.